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ChapterEight
Bailey
The headlines were already painting the senator as some kind of saint simply because he didn’t die in the car accident.
Maybe it was a lack of sleep that had me so annoyed. I hadn’t been able to get much sleep knowing that my four mates were hanging out in my living room, sharing a couch and taking shifts through the night to keep me safe.
Well, it was that or the fact that somebody had thrown a smoke bomb into the office last night. Considering I’d been the only one working, the attack felt targeted, and I wasn’t naive enough to think I’d be safe forever. It had to be because of my association with the senator, right? Other than that, what reason would someone have to come for me? It couldn’t be the Syndicate. They already had their plans for what they’d do if I let them down or failed in the mission I’d been assigned.
Either way, I was in a terrible mood, and I had to get my shit together quick because I had to go to another charity event for the senator in less than six hours. I had no choice in the matter. If he went, so did I.
“You look like you could use some coffee.” Sterling was the one who’d made the comment, so I wasn’t sure if it was an insult or an offer. He had no mug in hand, so I raised an eyebrow at him.
He held up his hands. “Don’t worry, Hayes is getting it for you,” he defended. “Look, I’m sorry for being a dick. I didn’t mean to…” From the constipated look on his face, I had a feeling this man had never truly apologized to anyone. Maybe I should be touched he was even considering it for me.
“Throw me into a flashback?” I offered, taking pity on him. “I don’t think anybody ever intends for that, Sterling. You were definitely a dick, but it’s not like you’re the one who gave me the trauma.”
His eyebrows furrowed, and I could easily see the alpha zeroing in on that last statement. Angry chocolate eyes narrowed on me, and his spiced cider scent intensified, his anger lacing it with a smoky undertone that was more appealing than it had any right to be.
“Who did, Bailey? Tell me who hurt you.”
Did he really think I’d just hand over a name? It would only take him to an obituary now anyway. Plus, in my mind, the Syndicate was always watching and monitoring. Would their query bring them to the Syndicate’s attention? That wasn't a risk I wanted to take.
My laughter had him stepping back, breathing like a bull. Apparently, my reaction had surprised him.
“Why would I tell you that? We’re not even friends.” He recoiled as if I’d physically slapped him.
“We may not be friends yet, but wearemates,” he countered as if that was the be-all end-all. This alpha and I would have to overcome fuckingmountainsif he wanted to win me over. Right now, he was pushing buttons I didn’t even know I had.
He thought being mates meant I’d lost all autonomy, meaning he should know everything about me. As if he and his family didn’t have their own pile of secrets tucked away. Did they think I didn’t notice the quiet phone calls and secretive conversations or the way Hayes was always on his phone, tapping away? He wasn’t mindlessly swiping on social media. The concentration he had was unmatched, and he never let me see what he was working on.
“If you don’t even know my coffee order, you don’t get to know my past, Sterling. I’m not a pushover, nor am I here for your alpha machismo.” I rolled my eyes and started to turn away, but he stopped me with a strong hand on my shoulder.
“You use two sugar packets and enough creamer to make it barely look like coffee,” he countered easily.
A snort behind us broke the tension, then Hayes stepped around his brother to hand me a steaming mug of coffee. It was the exact shade I always made mine, so I knew it was good.
“Don’t let him fool you. He only knows that becauseIjust told him how you take it.”
I took a careful sip from the mug and hummed in appreciation. “Thanks, Hayes.” I smiled sweetly. “You make an amazing cup of coffee.”
“Well, it’s easy when you have a high-end coffee maker in there. Even mine isn’t that nice,” he teased. “You must come from money… This place, the coffee maker, I know you aren’t paying for that on a campaign manager’s salary.” His voice was light, but there was a lingering curiosity under it that told me he was fishing for information. He knew I wasn’t as I seemed.
He was also correct about my salary. The money that was deposited from the campaign was barely pennies compared to what the Syndicate was paying me.
That was on the list of things they didn’t need to know right now. I shrugged and took another sip of my coffee instead of answering.
“Why do you look suspicious, Bailey?” Weston asked as he came over. He took the mug from my hands and set it aside before lifting me up and putting me in his lap instead. He handed my coffee back as soon as we were settled like this was an everyday thing to do.
It seemed Weston had no boundaries and expected me not to either, but for some reason, I didn’t mind the manhandling from him. If Sterling had tried I would have punched his smug alpha face.
“Just another one of Bailey’s secrets,” Hayes said as he sat down across from us.
“And you’re an open book?” I asked sweetly.
“Valid point.” Weston chuckled. “She’s got us there.”
Weston offered him a non-committal hum before leaning forward and taking a sip of my coffee, another example of impulsive affection. Even though we hadn’t spent much time together, or at least much time where I was studying them, I thought I was starting to put the pieces together. Weston was unapologetically himself, the bold one who did what he wanted even though some might expect him to be less assertive, given that he was a beta. But there was something a little… softer about the way he commanded my attention. I had the gut feeling that if I really wanted some space, he’d give it to me. Sterling was more or less an alphahole. He didn’t take anyone else into account when he acted, doing what he thought was necessary, right or wrong.
