img Bred by My Ex's Boss  /  Chapter 4 | 8.00%
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Chapter 4

Word Count: 1315    |    Released on: Today at 18:47

or doors slid open

e penthouse. He tossed his wet car keys to the waiting valet staff and s

le wealth. Everything was sharp angles, black marble,

on ha

e faint, lingering scent of chamomile hung in the air. It was Alsto

it. Tonight, it made his s

buzzed in

. The screen lit up w

tonight? The bed i

ermanent scowl on his face softened. He typed back

're still going to the Hampt

chen island. He walked over to the crystal decanter on the

ting the alcohol burn t

ic sight of Alston standing in the

lip curled

tood there, letting the entire corporate staff look dow

avy crystal glass, his

med the trust fund agreement down on his desk. The terms were absolute: Braydon would only inherit the con

son of a bankrupt manufactur

bon. He slammed the glass down on the marble co

a weak, useless Omega bec

nt door keypad beepi

clicked open. A

grocery bags in his red, freezing hands. He pus

cond he saw Braydon

wered his eyes to the floor, trying to make h

at him, his eye

n said. His voice was flat, carrying across the room like a wh

he plastic bags tightened unti

uments," Alston said softly, his voice barely

st fund was like throw

his hand flat against the marble cou

ng room, closing the dista

his S-class Alpha pheromones. The scent of burnt c

es buckled under the biological pressure, and he stumbled

eached out and grabbed Alston's jaw, his larg

Alston's

up on me," Braydon hissed, his face inches from Alston's. "You

ut he refused to let them fall. He dug his thumbnails into h

, his eyes filled with a

stance made Bray

ay, releasing his jaw with

ched into his pocket, pulled out a silk handkerchief, and rou

ly, tossing the used wipe onto the floor. "Stay out of my wa

console table. He walked out the fr

avy door echoed th

s legs

bags dropped from his hands. A carton of cherry tomatoes spilled out, r

his arms. His shoulders shook violently, but he didn't make

n against his th

is phone out of

It was an automated alert f

Cycle approach

lood drained from his face. A cold,

. And Braydon was g

to help him through it. He would have to

hroom and ripped open the medicine cabinet. He pushed aside the aspirin a

back of the she

le last month. Braydon had promised to sign a new

escription for the high-grade suppressants. The FDA regulations required the signature of a

o buy the illegal, synthetic suppressants that tore up his stomach

his pocket to

ed against a piec

ck business card. There was no name on it. Just

had wiped the mud from his face. The man had slipped this c

lver numbers. His thumb

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