Myron had never been good with his employers—especially when they were Alphas, as employers often were. He’d butted heads with his department chair over the unfair expectation that all the omegas in the mathematics department would become teachers, as he eventually had, while the Alphas would go on to brilliant careers as researchers and engineers. He’d clashed with his boss at the school for calling out the different ways students who weren’t Alphas were treated. Even if he hadn’t wound up leaving his job to take care of the family when his father had taken ill, he knew it was only a matter of time before he got fired for refusing to pander to the entitlement of the rich young Alphas in his class who thought all they had to do was intimidate the teacher for a good grade.

Even worse was the prick who’d tried to hit on him after being flunked, and told the principal he thought it was justified because “unmated omegas were always bitchy” and he was doing the class a favor. That was the day Myron had backed the hell out of teaching high school and decided if he never dealt with another Alpha in a professional capacity again, it would be too soon.

Despite his disastrous employment history, he’d never screwed things up quite to the point of getting caught with his pants down screwing his boss’ liaison. To make matters worse, the encounter unfolded in his boss’ office. This was bad even for him, and if he made it through the week without hearing from Avery and Nicholas, it would be a miracle. Surely they’d hear all about it through the grapevine and every ounce of respect he’d earned would go out the window.

The truth was, as little as he wanted it and as ill-suited for it as he was, he needed this job. Not for the money or the prestige. Not even for the opportunity to live as far away from home as possible so he could regain his sanity before he humiliated himself by showing up at Inara’s doorstep and begging her to take him back. He needed the job because he needed to prove to his family—especially to Nicholas—that he wasn’t the colossal fuckup they all thought he was. That he was capable of doing something right, and seeing it through to the end, and that he wasn’t actually as close to jumping off a bridge as their constant worried texts seemed to imply they thought he was.

The next few days at work proved that the grapevine had been swinging alright. He doubted Andy had told anyone, given the humiliation he’d seen on the omega’s face as he ran out of that office, but their discovery had been theatrical enough and everyone lived in the same building. Myron had made an attempt to apologize to Andy when he’d finally caught a glimpse of him the following day, but the omega had insisted on keeping things on the iciest professional terms.

Not that Myron could blame him. He had a way of fucking up everything and everyone he came in contact with. He’d just hoped it would take longer than a day to do it.

Aside from the guilt of damaging Andy’s reputation, the worst part was the way his new colleagues were looking at him. Yeah, a few omegas were giving him curious glances that would’ve given him new avenues of amusement to explore under different circumstances, but the way the Alphas were looking at him made his skin crawl. Until he and Inara had gone public, Myron had always preferred to keep his preference for other omegas under wraps because there was no shortage of Alphas who found it hot. The idea of giving any of them jerk-off material made him want to puke.

It didn’t matter that he was six-foot-two, or that he benched more than most of them, or that he did everything possible to avoid looking like an omega who was interested in anyone’s knot. Sure, he had shaggy hair, but it made him look more like a rebel than a femme. Despite all his attempts to be as unappealing as possible, Alphas still smelled an omega and that was enough to get their boner-fueled brains on the wrong track.

God, he hated them. Nicholas was the one and only exception he’d encountered and even he drove Myron out of his mind half the time.

Of course, there was Charles. While Myron was fucking Andy, he’d been forming a plan for what he was going to do if they were caught and Charles tried to turn it into a threesome. Then Charles had surprised him by being appropriately furious instead. Then he’d surprised Myron again by letting him keep his job.

The omega still wasn’t sure what to make of that, but he wasn’t ready to assume good will just yet. For all he knew, Charles was just waiting to use his leverage. Well, that was going to end badly for him. And probably with a boot in his face, depending on Myron’s mood.

He’d yet to actually see Charles for a few days, even while he’d been getting his security clearances, attending HR meetings for everything but the violation he’d already committed, and reviewing Avery’s old materials. Just when Myron had started to wonder if things were going to be awkwardly silent between him and his boss for the rest of the year, the CEO sent Myron a request to see him in his apartment.

At least Charles answered the door fully clothed. That was a promising start. He looked too exhausted to try shit, in any case, and Myron was almost disappointed that he wouldn’t get a chance to break in his new boots. The omega couldn’t help but notice how rumpled the Alpha’s shirt was, or the dark circles beneath his shockingly blue eyes. Myron was already a few inches taller than Charles, but the Alpha was slouched and the difference seemed more stark.

“Thank you for coming. I’m sorry it’s late, but my flight from Johannesburg was late,” Charles said, stepping aside. Always so formal. It might’ve been an endearing trait if he wasn’t running a fringe science lab masquerading as a matchmaking agency. Myron had only been with Futurus for a week and he was already suspicious as hell of the lab upstairs. The conspiracy theorists were having a field day ever since the company had confirmed rumors that it was indeed working on a way to genetically select for Alphas and omegas, but Myron was pretty sure the truth was a hell of a lot more shocking.

Myron stared at him as he closed the door. “You flew from South Africa today?”

“Yes, an hour ago,” Charles answered, yawning as he led Myron into the living room. His apartment was big, but not nearly as lavish as the one Myron had. Myron wasn’t sure if it was because he was being given the celebrity treatment in hopes it would convince him to stick around or because Charles just preferred a more modest home.

No wonder Avery was so prissy.

“How are you even still alive?” Myron asked in disbelief.

Charles seemed genuinely confused by the question.

“That was hyperbole,” Myron added flatly.

“Ah. Forgive me.” Charles rubbed his face. “Long week. Before we begin, can I get you anything to drink?”

“Thanks, I’m good.” He wasn’t exactly intimidated by the Alpha, but he still wasn’t interested in being drunk around him when they were alone. “What did you need?”

“We haven’t really talked since I brought you on. I hear your training has been going well?”

“Yeah. Everyone’s been helpful and I’ve been watching Avery’s old speeches to get the gist of the job.”

“I might have saved you the trouble,” Charles said, taking a seat. “Avery was gifted at what he did, but I’m afraid he didn’t cover any of the material you’re going to have to deliver next week.”

“Next week?” Myron echoed.

“I hate to throw you in at the deep end, but I just received word from our head of R&D,” said Charles, guzzling espresso like water. At the rate he was going, he’d end up stroking out by forty. Myron wasn’t sure why the half-serious thought bothered him as much as it did. “There’s been a breakthrough in a major project, and that puts us on track to unveil it to the public a year ahead of schedule.”

“A year?” Myron asked. “Wait, one the public doesn’t know about? Do you mean the, uh, the cloning thing?”

“To put it in painfully simple terms that would probably make our researchers sob, yes,” he quipped. “It’s about the cloning thing.”

“Shit. You’re really going to do that?”

Charles arched an eyebrow. “If you have any moral objections, you’ve waited a bit long to voice them.”

“You’d have to have morals to have moral objections,” Myron scoffed. “As you’ve seen firsthand, I don’t have an overabundance of character. I’m just surprised, that’s all. It’s controversial.”

Charles gave a short laugh and refilled his cup from the canister on the coffee table. He was the strangest combination of flighty and graceful Myron had ever seen, and he found himself transfixed on the Alpha’s movements. He was so catlike and odd and charming in a way that was hard to put a finger on, but the longer he was around, the more absurd Myron felt for assuming the worst.

Besides, Charles struck him as the kind of guy who thought of sex once or twice a year, and only if he was feeling particularly “randy.” He probably pencilled in appointments for it too. It also struck him that he didn’t want to think of Charles and sex in the same sentence, or any Alpha for that matter, and he dismissed the thought.

A bit too late, judging from the expectant way Charles was looking at him.

“I’m sorry, what?” said Myron.

“I agreed it is controversial, and that’s why it’s a problem that we haven’t had time to do the slow roll of PR conditioning we had planned. That’s where you come in.”

“Me?”

“Yes,” Charles frowned. “I just said I need you to announce Project Renaissance at the summit in Berlin.”

“Project Renaissance?”

The irritation in the Alpha’s eyes was more than deserved. Myron knew he didn’t have an excuse that wouldn’t open another can of worms. “The clones. Right. Sorry. Why are we calling it that again?”

“Because it’s the opportunity to stage a renaissance of the finest points of our species and rally spirits when we’re facing the threat of extinction,” Charles cried, standing. He swept past Myron, talking with his hands as he went. “It’s not just about another way to increase the birth rate, it’s about the possibility of bringing back the greatest minds in recent history. Everyone has lost someone to that awful war. Friends, mates, family, leaders, scholars.”

Myron watched him as he bustled around the kitchen, searching the cabinets for something until he found a plastic stack of coffee filters. “And you think cloning those people is the future of our species?”

Charles shot him an impatient look. He clearly wasn’t used to having to justify his brilliance. “It doesn’t matter that the Federation of Wolves and the Alliance have made peace. We’re still a generation haunted by loss, and if we have the chance to get some of what we’ve lost back, don’t you think it’s worth it to try?”

Myron hesitated. “It’s really not my concern, but I’m not sure the answer to the future is in the past.”

When Charles fell silent, he was sure he’d overstepped his bounds. Rather than respond with indignation, the Alpha spoke in a measured tone. “Haven’t you ever lost someone and thought you’d give anything to have them back, just for one moment?”

Myron chewed the inside of his cheek, wondering how he was going to give the honest answer without sounding like the smartass he usually was. “Yeah. I guess I have.”

“Pleading with people’s reason has only gotten the Initiative so far,” Charles murmured. “Everyone says they’re concerned about the birth rates, but no one is willing to sacrifice their chances of finding a destined mate to secure the future of the species. If, however, they had incentive—”

“I’m not sure I follow. A clone with every signup to the program?”

“Of course not. That would be absurd.”

“Riiiight,” Myron laughed, standing. He walked over to the counter where the Alpha was struggling to open some canister of coffee beans he definitely didn’t need. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to dumb it down for the plebeian. I only have a Master’s in mathematics, not a PhD.”

Charles sighed, setting the canister down. “I’m not good at explaining things. Doing the work, yes. Explaining it, no. I was always a hair’s breadth away from getting fired for not being able to explain my research properly and then…”

“And then you ended up running the company.”

The look on Charles’ face made it clear that had not been the original plan. “Anton’s death had its benefits. My promotion was not one of them.”

“So you don’t like your job?” Myron asked in disbelief.

“I like the opportunities it affords me to advance my research and change the world, if all goes well. The job itself, no.”

Myron stared at him. Did he really not get that he already had changed the world? He talked like some startup founder convinced he was still waiting to make it big even though his company had just started publicly trading shares. “That’s a surprise,” he admitted.

“That’s why I hire people like you to do the talking for me,” he said pointedly, shaking his head. “Avery was so good at it. All I had to do was hand over my research and he’d go up there and somehow not only make sense of it himself but make them believe in it.”

“Yeah,” Myron murmured. “Avery’s good at that. He’s good at helping people see what’s important.”

“It’s a gift I do not possess,” Charles said wistfully. “I feel like I’m going to pass out every time I talk to more than three people at a time, let alone a crowd.”

Myron opened the canister and slid it over to him. The Alpha just looked surprised, whereas any other would have been irritated about being “bested” by an omega.

“You’re in luck,” Myron grunted. “I might not be as easy to look at as Avery or half as charming, but I’m good at spinning bullshit. And I’m not a genius like you, but I know my way around a scientific journal article, so you tell me what you want to say and I’ll figure out a way to get it across.”

“That’s why I brought you on,” Charles said with a tired smile. “You’re the best of both worlds.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Myron admitted, reaching out to stop him from pouring another scoop of espresso beans into the grinder. “But now that I know what you actually want me for, I think I can help you. Starting with making sure you don’t overdose on caffeine.”

Charles stared at him, wide eyed, and Myron realized his hand was still on the Alpha’s, so he pulled it away. “What I want?” His voice was hoarse.

“You know. A proxy. Someone to deal with people so you don’t have to.”

“Yes,” Charles said quickly. “Of course. Avery and I didn’t work one-on-one so much, but the demands have become a bit much, as of late.”

“I can tell.” Myron looked him over and realized that if the Alpha didn’t get some rest soon, he was going to shut down. He was surprised Charles hadn’t already. “Why don’t you give me your research and I’ll spend the week looking over it and coming up with a plan for the summit?”

“The only problem is that I can’t let it leave the apartment.”

Myron blinked. “Why…?”

Charles started to speak, then stopped.

“Come on. If this is going to work, you have to be honest with me.”

“It’s highly confidential, and truth be told, I don’t trust anyone,” said Charles.

“Not even your own researchers?”

“No. Not with everything. There’s still so much that could go wrong, and so many people who want it to.”

“Okay, so… you want me to stay here?”

“Would you mind? You’d have the guest room, of course. And I’m not here often, but the common areas are monitored in case…”

“In case I run off with your research.”

Charles gave him an apologetic smile but he was dead behind the eyes. “I warned you I was paranoid.”

“And I signed a bunch of legally binding documents I didn’t even read. We’re good for each other,” Myron said, taking him by the shoulders to lead him down the hall where he assumed the Alpha’s room was. “Sleep. I’ll go pack my shit and tomorrow, we can start.”

“Are you sure?” Charles asked, dragging his feet.

“Yep. That is what you’re paying for.”

“Right,” Charles murmured, opening his door. “Well…goodnight. And thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Myron said, watching him go into the room.

The most unsettling thing about what had been an otherwise pleasant evening was that he kind of wanted to follow Charles inside.