An inside source reveals that Darius Holt's right hand man is an omega!
Will Darius Holt carry on another of his father's traditions by marrying an omega?
Darius felt like his face had settled into a permanent expression of stress and concern after the board meeting last week.
Owen did his best to continue the routine and keep things as normal as possible, but even his professionalism had not been able to mask the sheer gratitude shining in his eyes when he had come to Darius immediately after the meeting and thanked him for being so kind. He was so sincere and almost tearful that it made Darius start to wonder if anyone had ever defended him before. In this society, it was unlikely. Owen was an omega, which by society's standards meant that he was born to be an object for whatever alpha decided they wanted him.
Darius hated it, but he knew that the board had been right on a certain level. How many alphas had Owen slept with? And how often had he used his body to get a promotion?
The questions made Darius feel sick, but he had to admit that society did not favor those it considered weak and inferior. There was no way Owen had risen so far at such a young age on his talent alone. Someone, or multiple someones, had pulled strings for him.
Darius tapped his fingers in a repetitive rhythm on the top of the desk, thinking more than working. He glanced up when Owen slipped back into the office. "Are you feeling okay?" he asked when Owen approached the desk. "You've been in and out of here all morning."
Owen looked paler than usual, like he was sick or something. He hesitated and then admitted, "My stomach's been bothering me. It might be a stomach bug or something. Would you like me to take sick leave for it?"
Darius frowned. "If you think you need it, go ahead and take it. I don't want you to force yourself to work if you're sick."
Owen blinked, like he was surprised that taking leave was up to him. "I think I'm fine, Mr. Holt."
"Then stay. But don't overwork yourself." Darius wiggled his mouse to keep the screen awake. "I don't want you to actually get sick."
Owen nodded and headed over to the corner Darius had had made into a sort of mini office space for Owen. He sat down and worked studiously for several minutes. He seemed fine, but then he was leaning over, clutching his stomach.
Darius quickly got up and walked over. "Owen, I don't think you're okay," he said softly as he crouched by Owen's side.
Owen opened his mouth to reply but then slammed his hand over his mouth. He looked absolutely awful as he gagged but did not let himself vomit.
"Maybe you should go see a doctor?" Darius suggested gently, putting one hand on Owen's shoulder to keep his assistant upright.
Owen jerked back like Darius' hand was made of hot iron. "No," he whispered from behind his hand. "No doctors." That was strange. Who did not want to go to a doctor when they got sick?
Darius tried to be understanding. "Okay, well then, you should probably let me drive you home. You need to rest and have someone take care of you."
Owen's face twisted. "No one takes care of me." It was a simple statement, but why did it feel like a confession and a cry for help?
Darius put his arm around Owen and helped him up. "Come on, I'm taking you home."
He pushed back, almost falling. "No!"
Darius blinked, surprised at the violence in his movement and voice. "Woah," he said, trying to stay calm, "I'm just trying to help you. I need to take you somewhere you can relax and recover. The best place for that is probably your home. Just let me help you, please."
Owen was trembling as Darius carefully put his arm around his waist. Without warning, his legs gave out and he slumped into Darius' side.
When Darius bent down to look into his face, he realized that Owen had passed out. This was not good. He slid his other arm under Owen's knees and picked up his assistant as gently as possible. Even if Owen was unconscious, Darius wanted to be respectful about crossing lines. He took the elevator down to the lobby and walked straight out the doors to the company parking garage. He knew how it looked: the big, strong CEO carrying out his omega assistant. He did not care.
He settled Owen into the passenger seat of his car and, since he had no idea where Owen lived, drove back to his own apartment. He carried Owen up and laid him down in the bedroom where the bed was closest to the bathroom. After hesitating for a few minutes, he pulled off Owen's jacket and vest, draping both over a chair. When he saw an undershirt beneath the dress shirt, he took the stiff shirt and tie off as well. He carefully pulled the covers over Owen and then went to go make some peppermint tea for when Owen woke up. He returned with the tea and sat on the floor by the bed, formulating answers to the questions Owen would certainly have when he woke up.
When Owen finally stirred, Darius had already reheated the tea five times. He slid a hand under Owen's neck and lifted his head, holding the tea to his lips. "Here," he whispered. "Drink some. You'll feel better."
Owen obeyed without opening his eyes.
The trust made Darius' heart skip ten beats in a row. He was holding someone so small, so tiny, so fragile…and he was trusted. He made Owen drink until half the tea was gone. Then he set it down on the end table and lowered Owen's head to the pillow. "Just rest, okay? You don't need to do anything."
Owen moaned softly, and his head twisted away. He was sweating. That was not right. The tea should have helped. Things should not be getting worse.
Darius got up and bent over Owen, listening to his breathing and checking his heart rate like all of his first aid classes had taught him to do. His heart rate was fast and his breathing heavy. Not good. If Owen had not so vehemently refused to see a doctor, Darius would have had him in the emergency room yesterday.
Owen's eyes snapped open. He gave a cry of surprise at finding Darius standing over him and scrambled across the bed so fast Darius could barely follow the movement.
"Woah," Darius said softly, trying to stay calm despite the panic of the situation. "Calm down. You're okay."
Owen crossed his arms over his torso in such a defensive movement that Darius' heart broke.
"I didn't bring you here to hurt you," he murmured, not moving from his position. "I brought you here so I could take care of you."
Owen looked ready to bolt, but he doubled over and threw up.
Darius was immediately over by his side, holding him up and using a clean corner of the sheet to wipe his mouth. "It's okay," he whispered as Owen began to cry.
"I'm sorry," Owen sobbed out.
"No, no, it's okay," Darius insisted. "It's really okay, I promise. I've got an extra toothbrush in the bathroom here if you want to brush your teeth and get the taste out of your mouth. I'll change the sheets and wash them. It's not a problem."
Owen slowly calmed and then let Darius help him to the bathroom. He seemed to be fine leaning on the counter, so Darius changed the sheets, throwing the dirty ones into the washing machine and starting the cycle. When Darius came back, Owen apologized over and over again until his energy died and he dropped off into sleep.
Darius sat there by the bed, wiping away Owen's sweat with a damp towel. When his phone rang with business calls, he left the room but kept the conversations short so he could return to the room and continue to take care of Owen. Part of him cursed these surfacing protective instincts that he knew alphas started developing when they spent a long time around an omega they cared about. That did not bode well for him, since he had promised his dad and himself that he would not make a move on Owen. But his body had misinterpreted the work environment as a relationship. He groaned and ran a hand over his face. "It's nothing," he told himself harshly. "I'm nothing to him, and he's nothing to me." The first part might have been true, but the last part was definitely a lie. Darius cared more about Owen in a month than he did about his younger brother Sario, who had been in his life for fifteen years. Well, nineteen years if Darius counted the four years he had been in Europe.
So when Owen was still throwing-up sick the next morning, Darius called Noah.
Noah yawned as soon as he answered. "My guy, I had the night shift last night," he complained. "Why're you calling so early?"
Darius sighed. "This is going to sound bad, and you're one hundred percent going to take this the wrong way, but Owen's at my apartment. And," he added quickly before Noah could say anything, "he's sick, and nothing I'm doing is making it any better. Can you please just come over to help me figure out what's wrong with him? He's refused to go see a doctor."
Noah groaned, but it sounded like he was getting out of bed. "Alright, I'm coming. Gimme ten minutes, okay?"
Darius spent the ten minutes pacing and constantly checking on Owen, who had collapsed into bed after this morning's early vomiting experience.
Noah showed up at the ten minute mark, dressed in simple casual clothes and carrying his medical bag. He definitely looked like he had worked the graveyard shift at his residency hospital. "Either I'm a stupidly good friend or I'm just crazy," he muttered when Darius thanked him for coming. He motioned tiredly with one hand. "Lead the way, good sir."
Unfortunately, Owen was awake when they came in, and the omega's eyes got huge when he saw Noah. He glanced around the room, likely looking for an escape or a possible weapon.
Darius crouched down to make himself appear less of a threat. "Owen, this is my friend Noah. You might remember him from your first day at work."
Owen cautiously analyzed Noah and then slowly nodded.
"He's a med student. He's not a doctor. I just wanted to know how to help you get better. Is that okay?" Darius had to force himself to ask for permission instead of ordering Owen to do what he thought was best.
Owen's eyes were so narrow that Darius could barely see the iris. Just when it looked like he was about to refuse, he carefully nodded. He must have felt horrible enough to set aside his fears for some relief.
Noah sat down on the edge of the bed, more nonthreatening than Darius had ever seen him. "I'm going to start with a basic exam," he informed Owen quietly. "Just checking your breathing, heart rate, blood pressure, and blood oxygen. Nothing too crazy, okay?" At Owen's nod, he put the blood pressure cuff around Owen's upper arm and slid an oximeter onto a finger of his opposite hand. He pressed two fingers to Owen's wrist, glanced at his watch, and started counting silently in his head in a way that blew Darius' mind every time. How did Noah keep track of all those numbers, much less decipher what all of them meant? "You're in your mid-twenties?"
Owen looked down. "I'm 21."
Noah nodded. "Your heart rate's a little high for your sex and age, but it's still within normal range." He pulled off the oximeter. "Oxygen's at 98. That's good." He checked the blood pressure readings, and his face furrowed slightly. "Your blood pressure is slightly high, though. Let me check a few more things, okay?" He measured Owen's breathing and seemed really relieved when he said everything sounded normal. But Noah looked confused again when Owen's temperature was only 99. "That's not much of a fever. Not enough to explain what's going on." He turned and rummaged in his bag for a moment, coming back out with what Darius knew was a rapid blood-testing device. Noah had used it to run Darius' blood for fun one day, and that was how they had found out Darius was an alpha. "I'll just prick your finger and get a little blood to run through this to rule out some bigger issues, okay?"
Owen nodded but looked away from the needle, his breathing visibly quickening. He must have a fear of needles.
Noah snapped the blood sample into the device and then put a bandaid over Owen's finger. "This will just take a few minutes to process." When the results came up, he scrolled through them. "White blood cells, normal. Blood sugar, a little low but still normal. Normal. Normal. Normal…" His voice trailed off and he looked up at Owen with an expression Darius had never seen before: surprise mixed with worry. "Owen," he said softly, "did you know that you're pregnant?"