Billionaire Alpha's Human Mate

Lunch

Avery

His eyes are locked on me the moment I enter the office. Like a predator, he watches my every move as I look around the lavish office. There are statues and paintings that look like they cost more than my house. I am overwhelmed by the scent of sandalwood. It reminds me of my father in a way. I look right at Mr. Emerson and smile. “Hello,” I say awkwardly.

“Hello, Avery,” he responds while rising from his big leather chair. "Are you ready for lunch?”

“Y-y-yes, sir,” I mutter.

“Sir,” He chuckles and approaches me. The scent grows stronger as he stops in front of me. I look into his green eyes and swear they turn yellow for a brief second. “You do not have to call me sir. Just Tristan is fine.”

“O-okay,” I say with a nervous gulp.

“Are you afraid?” He asks.

I shrug, “N-no.”

“Don’t be,” He smirks. “It’s just lunch,” He gestures to two large leather couches by the windows. “Come sit,” he says.

I move toward the couches, “Great view,” I say as I sat down.

Tristan sits beside me, “I often stare out the windows and wonder about the people below.”

It’s silent for a moment as I continue to look out the windows.

“What would you like for lunch?” He asks. “The chefs can make anything you want.”

My stomach rumbles, but I can’t think of anything I want to eat.

Tristan reaches out and brushes his fingers on my chin. “You smell lovely.”

A strange ticklish sensation spreads through my body as he touches me. “You do, too,” I say. “What cologne do you wear? It smells like one my dad used to wear.”

Tristan chuckles, “I do not wear cologne. What is it you smell?”

“Sandalwood,” I respond.

“Hmm,” He smiles. “I smell lavender and vanilla.”

I narrow my eyes at him.

“So, about lunch?” He says with a tilt of his head.

I watch the red curls shift every time he moves. “Right, lunch,” I say. “A sandwich would be fine.”

“A sandwich sounds good,” He smiles.

“A club sandwich with chicken,” I say. “I love club sandwiches.”

“I love them too,” he smiles and pulls out a cell phone. “Hello, this is Tristan Emerson,” he says. "I would like to order lunch.” He nods. "Yes, bring it to my office.”

I rise from the couch as he orders the food. I walk over to the windows and look down at the city.

“What would you like to drink?” I hear Tristan say. “Avery,” He calls my name, and I turn to him.

“Huh?” I mumble.

“Drink? What would you like to drink?” He asks.

“Pepsi is fine,” I respond and turn my attention back to the city. The Grand Park sits in the middle of the city with its large gleaming lake. Dad would take us there to feed the ducks and ride the swan boats. I sigh at the memory.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Tristan appears at my side suddenly, and I jump. “Sorry,” he says. “You seemed sad for a moment.”

“I just remember playing at the park with my dad and siblings,” I say.

“And that made you sad?” He asks.

“My dad died a couple of months ago,” I say. “I was off at college and moved back here to help my mom with my younger siblings.”

“How many siblings do you have?” Tristan asks and lightly brushes my neck.

Again, a strange ticklish sensation spreads through my body. “I have four,” I say. “Two brothers and two sisters.”

“Wow,” Tristan chuckles. “I thought two sisters was a lot.”

“My dad was a police officer,” I say. “He was killed on duty.”

“I am very sorry to hear that,” Tristan remarks. “It’s a tragic thing to lose a parent. I assume. Mine are both alive,” he says with an almost bitter tone.

“After the funeral, my mom found out my dad owed money on the house,” I say. “I came back here to get a job to help her save the house.”

“How much?” Tristan asks.

“Huh?” I turn to him, and he is giving me a serious look.

“How much is owed on the house?” He asks.

“It’s not important,” I say and walk back to the couch.

“Avery, I can help,” He walks up to me.

“I don’t want to do that. I just started here,” I laugh.

“It’s no trouble,” he smiles. “Especially for you,” he reaches out and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, causing more tingles. He leans toward me. “Do you feel that?”

“Mr. Emerson,” the secretary’s voice comes over the intercom, and I swear Tristan growls.

“What?” He groans.

“Your lunch just arrived,” the woman responds.

“Send it in,” He mutters and stands up.

I take a deep breath and watch a young man walk in with a large brown bag.

“Here is your food, Alpha,” the man bows to Tristan.

“Thank you,” Tristan says, hands him some money, and then takes the bag.

“Enjoy your food, sir,” The other man bows again and leaves the office.

Tristan carries the bag to a table. “Lunch is served,” he smiles while pulling Styrofoam boxes out of the bag. He sets a bottle of Pepsi down. “It smells good, but not as good as you.”

I feel myself blush as I sit down and open my box. “Thanks,” I say in a near whisper. I look at Tristan and notice he has the same lunch: a club sandwich with chips and a soda.

“It sounded good,” He remarks.

“Oh, I thought rich guys like you ate caviar or whatever,” I say, and he busts out laughing.

“While I do like a good caviar, I also like a good sandwich,” He explains. “Believe it or not, my favorite is a good old grilled cheese.”

“Really?” I laugh. “I love grilled cheese.”

“Who doesn’t?” Tristan laughs.

I pick up the sandwich and start eating, “This is delicious,” I say.

Tristan reaches over to wipe something off my face, “Mayonnaise,” he grins.

“Oh,” I sigh.

“It’s okay.”

We eat in silence for a few moments. The sandwich is delicious, and the Pepsi tastes extra good.

“So, how much money is owed on your family’s house?” He blurts out.

“What?” I nearly spit out what I am chewing.

“Tell me,” He insists.

“I-I- “I stutter.

“Avery,” he says in a low tone. “Tell me.”

“One hundred thousand dollars,” I say.

“That’s it?” He laughs.

“Well, to us, it’s a lot of money. My dad’s pension doesn’t come close to covering it,” I say.

“Done,” He shrugs.

“What?” I snort.

“The money, it’s yours,” he says.

“No,” I say.

“I insist,” he says. “Please let me help you.”

“I am not some charity case,” I say with rising anger. “Is that why you brought me up here?”

“No,” Tristan frowns. “I just wanted to have lunch with you.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Don’t you feel it,” he says, lightly grazing my hand. Tingles spread through my body, and I jump. “You feel that?” He asks.

“I don’t know what that is,” I say.

“What if I told you something strange?” He says. “Something you probably aren’t going to believe,” He touches my hand again. “What if I told you that you and I are connected in a spiritual way?”

“What?” I say and stand up. “I have to get back to orientation.”

“Avery,” He grabs my hand.

I try pulling it away, but he pulls me toward him, and I bump into his very hard chest. “Mr. Emerson,” I say.

“Tristan,” he says. “You have no idea how good my name sounds coming from your lips.”

I watch his green eyes flash to yellow briefly as more tingles spread through my body. “What is happening?”

“Just let it,” he says and leans in.

I want to resist, but at the same time, I know I can’t. “Okay,” I whisper as his lips brush mine.

Tristan stops and pushes away from me. A second later, a woman bursts into his office.

“Tristan James Rupert Emerson!” she yells and looks at me.

“Hello, Mother,” He mutters and looks at me. “Excuse me.” Tristan walks over to the other woman.

“There were no rogues!” his mother yells.

“Mother,” Tristan hisses.

I take that as my cue to sneak out and rush out of the office.

“Miss,” the secretary calls to me.

“I have to go,” I say and enter the elevator. I lean against the back and place my hand over my chest as my heart slams against it. The elevator stops, and Hattie and Carlos enter.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Carlos asks.

“How was lunch?” Hattie asks.

“It was fine,” I respond. “Are we ready for more orientation?” I say and straighten myself out.