Business and Pleasure, page 1
Annabel Rose
Business and Pleasure
M/M Omegaverse Second-Chance Romance
Copyright © 2022 by Annabel Rose
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
Keeping It Professional
Unlikely Omega
Prologue
Blake Avery steamed down the corridors of Colbury Prep like a train bearing down on a hapless rail-jumper. Fellow attendees of the parents’ conference that Michaelmas Term flattened themselves to the wall to let him pass. Ava Martin’s mother muttered to Lily Gaitley’s father that clearly someone’s son or daughter wasn’t meeting expectations.
In fact, this couldn’t have been further from the truth. Blake was so full of pride in his small charge that he felt he might split at the seams. It was his expectations of the school that were not being met.
He came to a stop at last in front of Miss Cuthbertson.
“Headmistress,” he announced, “a word, if you please.”
Miss Cuthbertson was all of five feet tall, somewhere between forty and a very well-preserved sixty, and had been Headmistress of the Pre-Prep for ten successful years. She was sprightly, warm, clever, and possessed of a core of iron required to deal with the sort of parents who sent their small children to fee-paying schools and expected to get exactly what they believed they were paying for.
She was therefore well-acquainted with Mr Avery’s type. She met his request - that was really an order - with gracious condescension that made it clear she was bestowing on him a favour.
“Of course, Mr Avery.” She smiled at him the same smile she gave to all fractious and demanding parents and children. It was a smile that assured the recipient of her full and undivided attention. It revealed no irritation or impatience. And its very confidence asserted her own superiority. The parents were like children themselves, some of them: it was bad for them to let them always get their own way.
Mr Avery at once launched into his complaint.
“I don’t believe Bella is being appropriately challenged in her language lessons. She’s already fluent in basic conversational French. What she needs is grammar instruction. I think it would be better for her to be taught separately so she can be given work appropriate to her language level.”
“That is a possibility we have considered,” Miss Cuthbertson agreed neutrally.
You had to be very careful what you said to these types, the go-getter CEO run-my-own-business time-is-money lot. They were so used to getting their own way that they didn’t take kindly to having their will frustrated. Some didn’t even seem to realise that they’d been told no, they heard it so little. It was Miss Cuthbertson’s art to ease them into precisely the opposite opinion they’d begun with, all the while convincing them it had been their idea in the first place.
She continued:
“However, Bella is so attached to her new form, we think it would be a real shame to deny her the chance to share her learning with them. Miss Elliot, the French mistress, tells me that Bella absolutely loves acting as her assistant in the class.”
Miss Cuthbertson wondered how close she could come to the blunt truth that it wasn’t more French little Bella needed, but more socialisation with her peers. A dear, clever girl, but one who had spent most of her childhood thus far with adults, leaving her ill-equipped to navigate the turbulent social waters of her new classmates in Year 3.
As expected, Mr Avery was somewhat mollified by the Headmistress’ reference to Bella’s amazing accomplishments, which were obviously far beyond those of any other child in her year and probably the whole Pre-Prep.
“Bella has said how much she enjoys helping her French teacher,” Mr Avery admitted. “She absolutely loves Miss Elliot. But that’s beside the point. Bella may be helping in the education of her classmates, but what about her education? I’m sure you can appreciate that that’s my priority. She needs to be pushed in French.” The Or what are we paying you for went unsaid.
Miss Cuthbertson studied Blake Avery as she formulated her answer. Tall, dark, conventionally attractive - a real fantasy of an Alpha, and fabulously rich to boot. But unmarried, and with no partner on the scene. Bella was his niece, not his daughter. This was the first parents’ conference he’d attended, the family usually preferring to send their impeccably qualified young nanny. The school had received very late warning that poor Hannah had come down sick, and so Mr Avery, who was something high-up at Marchallen Pharmaceuticals, would be attending Bella’s conference as her legal guardian while her parents were out of the country.
“Every child’s education is our priority, Mr Avery. We always tailor our learning plan to the child, and we would be more than happy to accommodate extra French lessons for Bella. We do have two native speakers in the school, who currently benefit from explicit instruction in grammar in the Tuesday activity slot. I’m sure Miss Elliot would be glad to take Bella as well, so that she can really excel.”
As she had expected, the promise of a small group tutorial and putting the sainted Bella on a par with native speakers satisfied Mr Avery.
“That sounds like an excellent idea, Miss Cuthbertson.” He managed to make it sound like it had been he who’d given her the idea in the first place. Miss Cuthbertson hid a smile as he began obviously scanning the hall for anybody else he might want to buttonhole to discuss his niece.
But he stopped dead, eyes fixed on something over Miss Cuthbertson’s right shoulder. He looked like someone had stunned him.
Miss Cuthbertson opened her mouth to suggest he sit down and take a cup of tea, but he’d already forgotten her presence. And, without so much as a by-your-leave, he left her even more abruptly than he’d accosted her not five minutes before.
She turned to watch his rapidly retreating back, trying to work out who was his target in the thick crowd of parents. After a moment, she saw it: he was heading for that nice Mr Nelson, who’d done some part-time cover work for them when it was sorely needed. His daughter Mary was in Bella’s form, wasn’t she?
Oh dear, thought Miss Cuthbertson as Elias Middleton’s parents came into view with smiles that demanded her attention. Best keep an eye on what was going down in that corner of the room. That was Alphas for you.
Chapter 1
Mattie Nelson had been having a very normal parents’ evening. Or a parents’ conference, as Colbury termed it. He went round Mary’s teachers and was told all sorts of nice things about her, while being plied with tea and biscuits by Annie from the catering staff, who’d taken a shine to him when he’d done a bit of cover down in early years back in April.
It all changed in an instant when he saw the man bearing down on him.
Mattie didn’t recognise him for a minute, he was so out-of-place. It was only a man who looked like Blake Avery, surely. His vision was strangely blurred, and he briefly saw two of them, one superimposed on the other.
His sight cleared. Hell’s teeth, that was Blake Avery. Blake Avery was storming across the school’s sports hall in his direction, forcing other parents and small children to jump out of his way or get mown down.
Mattie instinctively glanced around, trying to find a hiding spot. It was no use. Blake had spotted him. Of all the places for them to meet again, for the first time in four years, why did it have to be here? Not only was there nowhere to politely escape to, it was horribly public. Parents and teachers alike had noticed the tall, dark Alpha making a beeline for the much smaller Mattie. No doubt several would be trying to eavesdrop. Mattie weighed his chances of persuading Blake to retire to a quieter, more private area.
Blake came closer and closer, and Mattie took an involuntary step backwards. It felt like Blake was just about to plough right into him. He could do that and often had, just picked Mattie up and carried on to the sofa or the bed. Mattie had loved it.
But Blake stopped like he’d been pulled up by an invisible lead, only a couple of feet away. He stared at Mattie like he was seeing a ghost.
“Mattie,” he said at last. The word sounded like it was being forced out ahead of a great many other things he wanted to say. “Mattie.”
There was no help for it. Mattie swallowed, fought the urge to wipe his suddenly sweaty palms on his jeans, and said,
“Blake. How nice to see you again.” He’d been aiming to sound cool and professional, but his voice came out just as strangulated as Blake’s had. Oh God, how had he ever spoken to Blake normally? How had he not been overwhelmed by his sheer Alpha presence?
They stared at each other for a few moments. Blake’s throat was working, but no sound came out. Mattie’s mind was blank. Absolute
Salvation came in an unlikely form.
“Mr Nelson, what a pleasant surprise.” Mattie turned from Blake’s hypnotising stare and grinding teeth to find Miss Cuthbertson gliding in from the left, subtly placing herself between them. His presence was not a surprise to her - of course he’d be at parents’ conference for Mary’s year group - but she had obviously sensed trouble and sought to distract them from what probably looked like an impending punch-up in the middle of the sports hall.
“Headmistress,” he replied, finding his voice again. He dredged up a weak smile. “Lovely to be back in the building again, though I’m quite relieved it’s not filled with Year 6 tennis players this time…” He was babbling. He shut his mouth and smiled tightly. He was painfully aware - his whole body was throbbingly aware - of Blake in his peripheral vision, just on the edge of his senses.
Would he still smell the same? Mattie had loved the way Blake smelled. He’d said it was one of the ways he knew they were compatible. He’d said a lot of mushy things in the course of their four-year relationship, and every single one was coming back to haunt him.
“It was very kind of you to step in to do that week’s coaching, though, especially when you were already covering down in early years.” Miss Cuthbertson sailed past his discomfort with the serenity of a woman whose job dictates that awkward moments in conversation only happen at her choosing.
Mattie demurred and thanked her, trying to keep his eyes on her and away from Blake. What could Blake even be doing here? He couldn’t have a child Mary’s age. It had only been four years since they’d last set eyes on one another, a time simultaneously equivalent to a geological age and the blink of an eye.
Blake interrupted with minimal grace.
“You work here.” He stated this flatly, but his eyes were frighteningly intense.
“I’ve done some cover work,” Mattie corrected. “I’m halfway through a na- childcare course.” Only a year away from finishing, in fact. They’d been ever so understanding, saying they looked forward to welcoming him back for his final year when his family situation settled.
Well, the family situation had settled, in a manner of speaking. Unfortunately, it had settled into something that wasn’t compatible with full-time study. Mattie’s eyes instinctively sought out Mary, who was chatting with a dark-haired girl who might be in her year.
Blake’s gaze followed his.
“They know each other?” he asked, which was such a non-sequitur that Mattie just blinked at him owlishly for a moment. Then he connected the glossy dark hair on the girl with the same on Blake. The dark hair he’d loved to run his fingers through years ago.
“I think they might be in the same class,” he said carefully. “I’m afraid I don’t know her name…?” He didn’t dare ask what the relation was. The girl was surely too old to be his daughter, unless he’d got some Omega pregnant immediately after Mattie had left?
Mattie tried to ignore the hot clench of jealousy around his heart. He no longer had the right to feel jealous. Especially when he’d been the one who’d left.
“Bella.” The obvious pleasure in Blake’s voice surprised Mattie even as it elicited a pang of jealousy. She was clearly very special to him, and it made Mattie think of the fantasies he’d had as a teenager in love of the children they might have together. He wanted Blake to look parentally proud like that over the accomplishments of a child Mattie had borne.
“Who’s her mother?” Mattie managed to ask. He held his breath and gritted his teeth and prayed for the answer not to contain the phrase “my wife”.
“Ellie, of course. Bella takes after her mother rather than her father in looks, which was one of her better in-uterine decisions.”
Mattie had to laugh. He’d forgotten Blake’s exact dry tone in which he told unexpected jokes.
“She certainly does,” he agreed. She was the absolute spit of Eleanor Avery, Blake’s elder sister, which was how he’d pinged the familiar resemblance immediately. A knot of tension in his chest eased at the realisation that Bella wasn’t Blake’s own daughter. He felt stupid for even thinking she might be.
“And that’s Mary, your little sister.” Typical Blake, not asking a question when he could make a statement instead.
“I would say ‘well spotted’, but it’s obvious, isn’t it? Even though she’s much bigger than when you last saw her.” Oh dear, back down the conversational hole.
Blake was looking at him again. Mattie wished he’d go back to looking at Bella and Mary, who seemed to be getting on famously.
“Mary has mentioned a Bella in her form once or twice, but I hadn’t realised there was a relation…” he ventured, trying to steer them away from uncomfortable topics.
“Ellie and her husband are out of the country for a month, and the nanny is off sick. This is my first time attending a parents’ evening for Bella. Or even seeing the school.”
“I’m sorry to hear about the nanny.” Mattie hoped it wasn’t stress. The Averys were an exacting family. “I’m sure it must be lovely to talk to Bella’s teachers and hear how well she’s doing.”
To Mattie’s amazement, a transformation took place. Blake took on a glow, his eyes sparkled, and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“She’s got full marks on all her spelling tests since the start of the year,” he boasted. “She hasn’t got below ninety per cent in any of her maths assessments, either. And her history work is the best Mrs Jones says she’s seen in years.”
Mattie gawped. Avuncular pride beamed from Blake’s every pore. His whole being softened. Mattie realised with a flash of insight that Blake - cold, collected, emotionally-muted Blake Avery - was absolutely besotted with his niece.
“That’s wonderful to hear, what a clever little girl she is,” he managed. “She must take after you.” He laughed nervously.
“I was always very good at school,” Blake agreed magnanimously. “In marks, at least.” He caught Mattie’s eye and they both grinned reflexively as several choice memories of their schooldays came to mind.
No, Blake had certainly not been a model student in other ways. His manners and stubbornness had driven his teachers to distraction. He had made it plain he didn’t respect several of them. Mattie, who would never have dreamed of disrespecting a teacher even if he privately thought they deserved it, had been star-struck.
It hadn’t been a surprise that he’d developed a crush on Blake - just about every Omega had had at least some steamy fantasies about him. But no-one had expected Blake to reciprocate. Blake had barely shown interest in any Omega all the way up to sixth form. And then, at seventeen, he’d set his sights on Mattie.
It was hard not to feel seventeen again when Blake fixed him with that blue gaze. Everything about him was so powerfully familiar that Mattie just wanted to step into those strong arms and close his eyes. Blake had always made him feel so safe.
“I have to go,” Mattie blurted. “Sorry, I…” Excuses failed him. What could he say? Sorry, I need to escape your presence immediately before I throw myself at you and beg you to take me back.
Blake’s eyes narrowed, but Mattie had long experience of getting out of awkward conversations. He was scuttling in the direction of Mary, who was speaking with her beloved and rather harassed-looking French teacher, before Blake could get the words out to tell Mattie to stay. He knew just from that minute of being in Blake’s company again that he couldn’t refuse him.
Blake’s attempt to follow him was stymied by Miss Cuthbertson, that force of nature. As he speed-walked away, he heard her cut-glass vowels saying:
“Bella’s art teacher, Mr Hawthorne, is very praising of her recent work. If you’d care to accompany me to the art room…”
Thank God for Miss Cuthbertson and her refusal to have any ‘unseemliness’ at parents’ evenings. She had the firm hand and presence Mattie only wished he could command when faced with twenty ten year olds trying to master the backhand serve.
Mattie reached Miss Elliot, who looked rather more relaxed after Mary’s little chat with her about her after school French cooking club. Mary, always keen to help her older brother in the kitchen, had joined the moment she’d heard about it.
