Chapter 67: Seconds
Torin Pov
A week has passed since I demoted Oril, and yet I still haven’t filed the papers. It’s not as simple as saying the words, there’s a whole legal procedure to officially strip a second of their position. You need a reason, a documented justification. Every pack must have a second; it’s law.
The system is designed to promote healthy pack relationships and democracy, so that one Alpha’s word doesn’t suffocate the others. Until I file those papers, Oril remains my second in the eyes of the council.
I should have filed them days ago, but I’m plagued by the memory of how hard he was denying it. His desperation gnaws at me. It makes me wonder if perhaps Lorali got it wrong. How would she know Oril was responsible anyway? But guessing won’t solve anything. There’s an easier way. If I corner my mother, she’ll tell me the truth. That’s why I arranged for dinner with her tonight. It would have been lunch, but this smiling devil in front of me, decided to call me here for lunch today right when I was going to meet my mother. I thought he was out of the country, but apparently he came back for the Boleyn funeral and hasn’t left since.
"Are you listening?" Mr. Masintosh asks, snapping me back into reality.
"Yes, to every word," I answer smoothly, flashing him a smile.
"Don’t you like your food? You haven’t touched it." His gaze flicks to my plate which remains untouched.
I laugh awkwardly, my hand brushing against my temple. "I do. Who wouldn’t like food from the highest‑rated restaurant in the city?" The truth is, I’m too stressed to eat. He invited me here, booked out the entire top floor so it’s just us, the glittering view of the city, and the silence between courses. It’s nerve‑wracking. He could kill me right now and no one would know.
"You haven’t touched your food," he repeats, his tone sharper.
"I just want to discuss the business you called me here for first," I say, pushing the plate slightly forward as if to prove I’ll eat later. "What makes you think I invited you for business?" His voice is teasing, but his eyes are calculating.
"I know you wouldn’t take time out of your day to have lunch with me otherwise," I point out. He nods. "That’s true. Let’s get to business then."
"I don’t like the numbers you’re producing. Spade is running at a loss."
I knew it. Of course he was going to bring this up. "Oh... no, that loss is only temporary. We went public about Lorali recently hence the negative decline. Give us time. Once the Whales Project rolls out, we’ll be running a profit."
Yes, Spade has been bleeding money for the past week. On one hand, Packs are furious that we have two omegas when they don’t even have one so they are boycotting us and on the other hand, Walter’s rabid fans keep vandalizing our building sites. But all of this is manageable. We’re not going broke anytime soon.
"I don’t care about that, it’s not the Lorali thing that’s bugging me." he says, fiddling with his salad, stabbing at the leaves with his fork. I didn’t take him for the kind of man to order a salad. "Why did you go public and that girl, if you don’t mind telling me?"
"It was one of those tough decisions I can’t explain. I had to make it as a leader. I’m sure you, as a leader yourself, can understand. You had to make decisions like this before."
"Oh..." he sings, lifting his gaze to me, his eyes gleaming. "I’m not the main Alpha. That’s my elder brother. I am the second. So I truly don’t understand a word of what you just said. Perhaps my brother will. I’ll ask him later."
"You’re a second!" The words slip out before I can stop myself.
He nods casually.
I stare at him, irritation bubbling in my chest. I thought I was dealing with the man himself. This explains why he doesn’t match Erin’s description at all.
Ridiculous. Why must I deal with a second? I’m done with them. Oril has dragged me through hell, and now the very idea of speaking to another second grates on me. Even if this one is clearly smarter and more composed, I can’t shake the feeling of irritation. Seconds can betray trust at any moment. And I’ve had enough of betrayal.
"Anyways, back to more serious business. Lorali isn’t the problem, your numbers have been mediocre from the beginning. You’re not pulling Boleyn numbers. You’re scared to branch out, to take chances on larger‑scale projects. Your hotels all look the same. I know you’re playing it safe, but playing it safe gets you small money, higher risks so you get better profit."
"I am not Boleyn. Safe is profitable enough and stable," I reply, my tone clipped but steady, though inside I feel irritation rising. "Yeah, but I need better numbers. And according to the contract, if I’m not impressed, I can appoint a CFO of my choosing to help get those numbers."
"Alright, no problem. I don’t have a CFO anyway."
I lean back in my chair, forcing a calm expression. Truth is, I don’t mind the idea of a CFO, it would take some of the burden off me but I’m not changing the way Spade operates. We will always play it safe. Riskier means more elaborate designs which have a higher chance of collapsing, and that’s not worth the gamble or money. Just because someone wanted an ice sculpture inside a building now the whole building must have a chance of collapsing.
"Good. I’ll appoint my wife, Arabella. I’m sure you know her."
My gaze snaps to him at the mention of that pink‑haired devil. My jaw tightens, my fingers curling against the tablecloth. "She’s been wanting to do something lately other than interning at the omega council, and I feel like this would be perfect to keep her busy. You two will work well together."