Page 70 of The Boss Omega
I stare at him for another second, then shake my head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Probably good. We’ll see how the talk goes before I decide.”
We climb out of the car and walk across the campus lawn toward the lecture hall. The evening air is cool, and our hands stay linked between us.
“So why this?” I ask as we approach the building. “For our first date, I mean.”
He glances down at our hands before answering. “I like learning things,” he says simply. “And you,” he continues, “love OmegaBox. Love watching it grow.”
I tilt my head.
We reach the doors to the auditorium, but he pauses before opening them. “I thought this might be the perfect intersection,” he says quietly. “Something I love and something that might help you.”
The sincerity in his voice catches me a off guard.
“You have no idea how much I love that my omega is brilliant and ambitious. I think it’s incredible.” The words are so earnest my breath hitches.
“I’ve already bragged about you to everyone in my department.”
That makes me laugh. “You’re showing me off at work?”
“Of course.”
“You’re a scientist.”
“And?”
“And I assumed scientists had cooler things to talk about than subscription box businesses.”
“Incorrect,” he says gravely. “My colleagues are all alpha nerds. Trust me, there is no one on earth more interested in an omega’s box.” He winces a little like he’s not sure if the joke landed. And god help me, I laugh in surprise. A week ago, I would have never imagined a crass joke coming from the mouth of my gentle giant. And yet here he is, looking thoroughly pleased with himself while pretending he isn't.
He opens the auditorium door and gestures for me to go in ahead of him. He slides his hand to the small of my back and guides me to our seats.
The room is already half full. Students, faculty, and a scattering of professionals fill the rows of seats. We settle into two near the middle. As the lights dim and the speaker begins, Graham’s hand finds mine again almost immediately.
The lecture is fascinating. Dr. St. James speaks with the kind of confidence that comes from years of studying the same topic from every possible angle. She walks through research on omega-driven purchasing trends, how scent influences spending behavior, the ways omegas quietly shape entire markets without most alphas ever realizing it.
My brain starts firing almost immediately. Ideas pile on top of each other. Seasonal box variations. Heat-cycle specific boxes. Regional scent preference trends. Marketing language shifts. I barely notice the passage of time until the lecture ends and the moderator opens the floor for questions. Before I can second-guess myself, my hand goes up.
Dr. St. James nods in my direction. I stand, my mind already turning over what I’m going to say. Beside me, Graham is watching. His eyes are bright, focused on me with an intensity that sends a thrill straight down my spine. Like he’s genuinely excited that I’m about to ask a question. Like my brain turning on is just as interesting to him as anything physical between us.
It might be the most attractive thing anyone has ever done for me.
I make a mental note to tell Cammie that Graham Wiley took me to a lecture for our first date and it was the most romantic night of my life.
She'll never believe me.
Graham stays seated while the crowd begins to thin, so I do, too. Eventually he stands and gives my hand a gentle tug. “Come on,” he says.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m introducing you to Emille,” he says mildly.
Before I can protest, he’s guiding me down the aisle toward the small cluster of people gathering near the podium. Dr. St. James is speaking with a pair of graduate students, signing a book one of them hands her. When she looks up, Graham waits politely for the conversation to end before stepping forward.
“Dr. St. James,” he says. “I’m Graham Wiley, from the Pharmaceutical Sciences department.”
