Page 45 of Beautifully Scarred Omega

“Now,” she says, pulling her chair closer to mine, “where were we? I was going to show you the filing system, wasn’t I?”

Right. The filing system. Because that’s what I do now. I file things.

I stare at the computer screen.

The only problem is that I don’t actually know how to do most of this. My skills are in surveillance, infiltration, and taking down men twice my size. I can pick a lock in under four seconds and disarm a loaded weapon in two. But formatting a spreadsheet? That might actually kill me.

Celine walks me through the basics, how to access the shared drive, where to find templates, which folders belong to which team members. I nod along, making mental notes, trying to look like someone who finds this genuinely interesting rather than mind-numbingly tedious.

“Do you like working here?” I ask during a lull, taking a careful sip of the coffee she brought me earlier.

Celine doesn’t hesitate. “Oh, I love it. Absolutely love it. The pay is good, the work is interesting, and Pack Cavill, they really take care of their people, you know?” She leans in conspiratorially. “Last year, I had to take six weeks off for surgery. Hip replacement, getting old is no fun, let me tell you. But they paid my full salary the entire time. Didn’t even use my sick days.”

“That’s generous.”

“It’s more than generous. It’s...” She searches for the word. “It’s family. That’s what it feels like here. Like we’re all part of something bigger than just a job.”

Interesting. Synthera clearly invests in employee loyalty. It makes sense from a business perspective. Loyal employees are less likely to leak information, less likely to be turned by outside interests.

But it also complicates my investigation. If everyone here genuinely loves their job and feels indebted to Pack Cavill, the mole has to be motivated by something stronger than money.

“What about you, dear?” Celine asks, her eyes bright with curiosity. “Do you have family nearby?”

“Not really,” I say, Sophie Dysart’s voice light and casual. “My parents are gone, and I’m an only child. But I have friends, you know? They’re like family.”

Celine makes a sympathetic noise. “I’m sorry to hear that, dear. But you’re right, friends can be family too.”

I smile and nod.

She gives me a stack of filing to keep me busy. Simple work, organizing documents, updating spreadsheets, learning the company’s systems.

I try to look productive while quietly taking stock of the people around me. The marketing team is small, eight people including Celine. I note their names and positions, and who hangs out with whom.

The glass doors swing open and Finn walks in.

He stops at a desk near the entrance, a young woman with red hair and a nervous energy about her. She looks up and her whole face changes, brightening like someone just turned on a light.

“Phoebe,” Finn says, leaning against the edge of her desk. “Did you manage to finish that competitor analysis?”

“Just sent it to you five minutes ago, Mr. Preston.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling. “Let me know if you need me to dig deeper on any of the brands.”

“That’s perfect. Thanks, Phoebe.”

Then he smiles, and there it is, the dimples, the crinkle at the corners of his eyes, the warmth that makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room.

The one I haven’t seen since that night on the terrace.

Phoebe practically glows under it. I grip my pen tighter and keep my eyes fixed on my screen.

He pushes off from her desk and heads toward his office, his path taking him right past me. I don’t look up, but I can feel him getting closer.

He nods once as he passes, brief and dismissive, like he’s never seen me before in his life. Then he’s gone, disappearing into his corner office.

I stare at my computer screen, my pen still clenched in my fingers.

That’s fine. I don’t care. Why would I care?

He’s punishing me because of his ego, plain and simple. He can’t stand that an omega walked away from him.