Lola & the Millionaires: Part One (Sweet Omegaverse #2)(7)
Designate was located in the Stanmore, one of the tallest buildings downtown, not to mention one of the most beautiful old Art-Deco buildings in the country. It’d been the same location for the magazine for over sixty years, and the magazine was as much a part of the history of the building as the building was to the city. I stepped inside and allowed myself a good twenty seconds to gawk at the angled chandelier, the gold framing details, the intricate tiling of the floor, to just enjoy that I was here—not as a spectator but as someone who worked in the building. Then someone bumped my shoulder, and I let the moment pass.
I was early, thanks to David’s car service, dressed in a simple black dress that was designed to hang loose and formless, and I blended in with the sea of men and women in business attire and wool trench coats that squeezed their way into the building. I didn’t know the full rundown of the offices in the Stanmore, but I did know that under the five floors Designate occupied was a well known and entirely beta run legal company.
I wiggled my way through the crowd, breathing through my parted lips to avoid the few faint wisps of alpha pheromones I caught, and headed for the security desk. The woman behind the gorgeous stone counter was a bulky beta woman who took a remarkably unhurried look up from her newspaper after I cleared my throat.
“I’m a new hire for—”
“Name?”
“Lola Barnes,” I said.
A few clacks of keys and a screeching old printer at work later, and the woman passed me a flimsy cardboard square with a barcode across the bottom. “That’ll get you up to your floor, and they’ll manage the rest. If you don’t have your pass by tomorrow, you can come to the desk for another. You check-in at floor fifty.”
I blinked and took the temporary key card, resisting the urge to make the snarky comments hovering on my tongue. I slipped through the turnstile with my pass, tucked the card into my pocket, and headed for the elevators, wincing as I stared at the crowds. The people in the lobby were packing themselves into the carriages like sardines in a can. I may have been early to work for Designate, but the rest of the building was filling up quickly.
Just breathe.
I dove onto an elevator at the last second, everyone shifting by tiny increments to make room for me, a briefcase jammed against the back of my left thigh. I held my breath as the door slid shut in front of me and wiggled my hand over to hit the button for the fiftieth floor. I took tiny breaths as the seconds passed until I realized I was in an elevator with no one but other betas and then relaxed. I didn’t like being crowded, but the elevator was gradually emptying and I was able to actually slouch against the wall, well out of reach of the last four occupants when we reached the fiftieth floor.
The doors parted and I stepped out, breathing deeply for the first time in minutes. I was alone in the beautiful hall, the heels of my shoes echoing against the marble floor. I turned and watched the elevator doors shut behind me, finally able to admire the incredible Art Deco scrollwork engraved in the polished gold.
I was here. I was at Designate, and I was an assistant beauty editor on her first day.
The hall was a soft shade of periwinkle with faux pillar molding accented in cream and gold. Every detail—from the intricate floor tiles grouted in brassy gold, to the swirling crown molding—was pure decadence. Ahead of me, beautiful cherry wood doors with crystal glass panes waited to be parted. One of the elevators ahead of me chimed, and I started forward before I was caught ogling.
And then my feet stalled, the heavy whiffs of sensual masculinity and bright startling champagne filtering out of the elevator. Alphas, two of them, stepped out together, and shock froze me in place. It’d been a long time since I was in close quarters with an alpha, but that wasn’t even the only reason I was so startled.
The first of the pair, tall with silver streaks running back from his temples through dark brown hair and crows feet at the corner of his eyes, was Matthieu Segal. The Matthieu Segal, CEO of the global media company Voir. Voir owned Designate along with a half dozen other major magazines and outlets, and this was the man in charge of all of them. Next to him, dressed in a dapper velvet jacket and wearing shoes that had a trim of gold along the sole, was the exquisitely handsome and polished Cyrus Cohen. Also known as my immediate boss, the Head Beauty Editor of Designate.
Cyrus’ head twitched in my direction, sunlight glowing on the deep brown of his skin, and I had the urge to dive and hide, but it was too late. He spun to face me, and I tried to force the terrified expression I was no doubt wearing off my face. His eyes narrowed as he took me in, and Matthieu Segal slowed and turned on black polished shoes, staring at me over the high collar of his tan wool coat.
Look at her like this, it’s pathetic really.
I shivered, shaking old voices out of my head. I tried to force my steps forward, even as every muscle in my body clenched, desperate to run away.
Matthieu Segal took one step back as I managed one struggling step forward, and Cyrus’s narrow stare suddenly broke into a shining smile.
“You’re my new hire aren’t you?” he asked, eyes brightening. He glanced at Matthieu. “Told you I needed to be early today.”
I forced the barbed wire in my throat down and dipped my head once. “Lola.”
“I’m Cyrus, you’re in my department.” He stepped forward, and my whole body gave a brief flinch until Matthieu’s hand landed on his shoulder and held him in place.