Chapter Text
It was a day like any other at Hale’s Fashion, with people running around like something major was going on and they were on a deadline they had long since passed. They were actually on a deadline with Fashion Week just around the corner — A.K.A just a couple months off — but they hadn’t yet surpassed it.
What made them run around and hide a bit more often than other times, however, was that their boss had been in a bit of a snit ever since he showed up. People had heard yelling coming from his office every couple of minutes for the last few hours, and a few assistants had taken to hiding underneath their tables whenever Peter Hale opened the door to his office to call another employee inside.
They weren’t getting laid off, it wasn’t that. No, some had even gotten a raise today — Erica — or had simply been told that scarves didn’t work on the catwalk, and especially not with the suits he’d be wearing — Isaac.
But the news that went around the offices today was that their boss would be getting a special guest of some sort of importance, though those rumors didn’t tell them just who this might be or what importance they held. And his personal assistant wasn’t talking, not beyond reassuring the employees that their boss wasn’t displeased with any of them.
So in the end, mostly everyone went about their day, working on their jobs and trying to finish everything in time so that it could be checked over by their respective bosses and probably be scrapped or halfway remade.
In the meantime, the small group of managers that Peter had handpicked himself were gathered in one of the many conference rooms, waiting for their boss’ assistant to join them.
It took another ten minutes, but then Kira walked into the room with a tray of coffee, putting it in the center of the conference table while Boyd closed and locked the door behind her before retaking his seat.
“You,” Stiles was already halfway through his coffee, the bags beneath his eyes really beginning to show, “are a goddess amongst mere mortals, Kira.”
Isaac let out a weak noise of protest as Stiles stole his coffee as well after he had finished his own, but didn’t make a move to retake it, knowing just how much the marketing campaign around Fashion Week was kicking his ass.
Hale’s Fashion had taken a blow just a few months back, when a couple of their designers had walked over to a rival company and taken their designs with them, designs that had then been their show-stopping pieces for Fashion Week. Ever since that happened, Hale’s Fashion had to start over and make a new collection completely from scratch, while making sure it would be grand enough for Fashion Week so that they could keep their hard earned reputation.
The press hadn’t been kind to them, hounding them about every little thing, whispering about the fall of the Hale Fashion line, derision about the owner behind nearly every sentence they wrote. A few of the magazines were kinder on them, more understanding, but no one seemed to have much faith left in the company.
The employees doubted that Peter Hale had been sleeping much more than two hours a day, with how snappish and irritable he’d become since the Incident, but they were all motivated to pull off a great collection. Most of them had been there since the youngest Hale brother had started the company, and none of them wanted to see it go down.
So Stiles had taken to inhaling an ungodly amount of coffee and adderall every day, and taking the press by storm, countering as many of their insult-ridden arguments with fact-riddled comments of his own. It was somewhat working, the press had been focusing a bit more on their competitor who seemed to actually be using Hale Fashion’s stolen designs, but the company wouldn’t be out of the fire until after a successful Fashion Week.
“Can someone please tell me what has Peter in such a snit?” Lydia was tapping at her ever-present tablet even as she spoke, frowning down at what were probably some excellent algorithms none of them understood. “He snapped at our shareholders yesterday, and I don’t want it affecting our stock.”
“Yes, well…” Kira started wringing her hands a bit nervously, smiling at Boyd when he handed the one cup of hot tea to her. “So you know how Peter doesn’t really talk to his family, right?”
“I think we all got that after he sent that guy, it was an uncle I think, crying home.” Erica said in a deadpan tone, even though she finally put her sketchbook down and started paying attention.
“Apparently his sister wasn’t happy about that,” Kira winced as she thought back to the phone call she had picked up, and where a woman had been shouting at her before realizing that it wasn’t Peter who had picked up, “and is coming in person to meddle in Peter’s business. His words.”
Danny looked up from his laptop with a raised eyebrow.
“Would this be the same sister that tried to demand a couple hundred in stocks a while back?”
“It is.” Lydia sneered her answer before Kira could confirm, the tapping on her tablet a bit louder being the only indication of her rising agitation. “Of course Peter said no to that.”
“So what does she think coming here will prove?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t like it.” Stiles muttered from where he sat slumped in his chair, hugging a half-full coffee pot to his chest that he had somehow magic-ed from out of nowhere.
“What are you planning, Stiles?” Danny sounded tired as he closed his laptop, sending Stiles a deadpan look as he did so, fully aware that the marketing manager didn’t like anyone encroaching on his territory. And considering Stiles had all but pissed on everyone in the building to mark it his territory — Stiles was damn proud of all the work he had put in this company, just like all of them — Danny was sure Stiles had a plan already.
Hopefully not one reminiscent to their high school days, where Stiles had at one point teamed up with Finstock and exploded the chemistry room out of protest.
So far, Stiles hadn’t yet divulged the details on that.
Harris’ eyebrows were never quite the same after that.
“I don’t like seeing Peter unhappy.” Stiles pouted into his coffee. “And I’ve done my research into his family. Did you know that they kept his part of the family inheritance from him?”
At hearing that, Lydia perked up in her seat, shooting a look at Stiles that told him to explain just what he meant. In detail. Immediately.
“Wait, I thought he started Hale’s Fashion with inheritance money?” Isaac spoke up, looking confused. Though to be fair to the guy, he looked confused and adorable more often than not.
“That’s what I thought as well,” Stiles shrugged, “before I started digging into his history. He never had access to his inheritance. I’m not too sure on the particulars, but the relationship between him and his family doesn’t seem too good. From what I found, Peter got a loan from the bank and one of his nieces slipped him a sizable piece of her inheritance, but until the company started to grow, Peter had barely enough to his name to rent an apartment.”
“Is that part of the reason you pulled us all into working here?” Erica spoke up. Just like the rest of them, they had all been convinced by Stiles that yes, the company would be worth it and it had the potential to grow into something bigger.
Ever since everything that had gone down during their high school years, which was a lot, the group had difficulty being apart from one another for very long. The few of them that didn’t work for Hale’s Fashion did live in the same city, and they saw each other at least once a week. The drama of high school hadn’t separated them, college hadn’t pulled them apart. So they wouldn’t let work life pull them apart either.
Though they did consider themselves extremely lucky they had managed to make a place for themselves in a company they actually enjoyed working for.
With a boss they enjoyed working for.
A boss they preferred seeing happy, because a happy Peter meant a relaxed workplace. Not the chaos and drama that had been Hale’s Fashion the last couple of months.
“It might be.” Translation: it totally was. “My point is, his sister is going to come in here and probably tell bossman what to do. And I don’t think he’s going to send her away like he did his uncle.”
“Kira,” Lydia interrupted before Stiles could go on one of his tangents that ended up going nowhere, making the man pout and go back to sipping coffee, “do you know when his sister is set to arrive, and for how long she’s going to stay?”
“Well, Peter had me clear his schedule for the next week, except for a few shareholder meetings. So, next week for a week, probably.” Kira shrugged a little even as she pulled up her copy of Peter’s schedule on her tablet, turning it to show to the rest of the room.
“Alright, I can work with that. Who here agrees with Stiles?”
No one even paused for a second to think, as they all put up their hands. In Erica’s case, she put up both hands, twisting her leg to put that up in the air as well and nearly kicking Stiles in the head while doing so.
“Then this is what we’re going to do.”
——
“Alright, listen up you little shits!”
Stiles was standing on top of one of the desks in the middle of the chaos cleverly disguised as a ‘Marketing department’, bullhorn raised to his mouth to be heard over the shouting of his minions.
The silence that fell over the room wasn’t nearly as abrupt as he’d like, but those working with him had long since gotten used to his eccentric antics, and the bullhorn wasn’t exactly a new strategy added to the mix. But they did all fall silent eventually, especially once they saw the serious look on the face of their seriously sleep deprived boss.
“You lot might have heard about a visitor we’re getting next week, right?”
One of the minions closest to him nodded dutifully for the rest of them. Of course they had heard of the visitor, Stiles hadn’t been quiet when he had ranted about someone ‘coming to fuck shit up for Peter’. Stiles was rarely quiet about anything that pissed him off.
“Well, Kira has just informed us that we’re getting visited by her royal majesty the sister!”
Stiles waited dramatically for a long minute, as if he was expecting some reactions to his announcement. In his sleep deprived state he seemed to have forgotten that not everyone knew the entire family history of their boss, so his minions just looked at each other for a while, before one elected himself as a sacrifice.
“…And what does this mean for us?”
His sacrifice wasn’t in vain, as Stiles seemed to recognize that not everyone was him. Though, maybe he should look into that once he had a bit of free time. Cloning himself would mean he could get twice as much work done, maybe get all this mess with the press sorted out on time and get the correspondence with France to go smoothly for once. Of course that would also mean handing over coffee to his other self, which was a definite con…
He needed sleep. Or more coffee.
A glance down at his mug showed that he was once again out of the bitter life juice.
Definitely more coffee.
“This means that some bi—lovely lady,” Lydia had told him to cut down on his swears, apparently it was ‘unprofessional’, “is going to come in here, demand things of Peter, demand things of this company while not being a shareholder, and sour Peter’s mood even more. You’ve all noticed his shit mood, right?” Rapid nodding all throughout the room. “That’s because of her.”
And suddenly, mystery sister wasn’t liked by anyone. Peter in a sour mood meant the company in a sour, sleep deprived mood. Get rid of the cause, however, and Peter’s mood would lift again, which would mean glorious sleep. And they were all ready to kill for some sleep.
“What do you want us to do, boss?”
“Continue to work, but whenever she’s in the room, don’t talk. Don’t do anything. Turn off your monitors, close the files you’re looking at, hide the advertisements. Don’t. Work. Stare her out of the room. Be unhelpful. I want her gone.”
One of the minions in the back spoke up, tentatively bringing up what everyone else was thinking.
“What does miss Martin think of this?”
Stiles glowered in the general direction where he could have sworn the question came from, but seeing as the minion had ducked into hiding, he found himself looking at the wall instead. Why was it that his minions were still more afraid of Lydia than him?
Oh right. Common sense.
“She’s approved it.”
It was as if a switch had been flipped with those words, as suddenly people were grinning and whispering to each other, excited by the prospect of being allowed to be rude to a guest. Stiles pouted a little as he was once again being ignored, before he sighed and hopped off the desk again, only nearly braining himself on the side of it.
——
The cafeteria was more silent than it had ever been, with workers trying to meld themselves to a wall as far away from the general area of their Marketing manager as they could without phasing through solid brick. It was the day that The Sister was set to arrive, and tensions had been running high in the company all throughout last week and the morning. The air had gotten heavier and heavier as people anticipated whatever was about to happen, to either the company or The Sister, and something had to give eventually.
It was very unfortunate that the thing that decided to give up was the coffee machine. While Stiles was attempting to fill his giant mug with the liquid he seemed to be living on these days.
The first few minions had managed to slip by him and through the cafeteria doors, hightailing it out of there before Stiles comprehended just what was happening — or more accurately, not happening — escaping from the silent rage that was a sleep- and now coffee deprived Stiles.
Just as it looked like Stiles was going to pick up the heavy machine with his bare hands and throw it out of the window, Lydia Martin came prancing through the doors in her high-heeled, impeccably dressed glory, pressing a cup of coffee she had probably sent someone to get for her into Stiles’ hands.
“I’ve already sent for a repairman, Stiles.” Lydia’s tone was only slightly exasperated, though it would have held a more judging tone if she didn’t know just how much work was currently piled upon Stiles’ entire department. They were well-staffed, but nothing could have prepared them for the surprise press release this morning, where one of Peter’s own family had apparently been stupid enough to hold an interview on how Peter would probably crawl back to his family for money after the setback of having his designs stolen.
Stiles had put his minions on contacting the press immediately, their social media accounts had blown up and had to be managed before it grew out of hand, and Stiles himself had been on the phone all morning with worried Fashion Week organizers.
If Stiles ever met this Derek Hale, he was going to strangle him with his bare hands.
“An interview, Lydia,” Stiles croaked even as she gently led him out of the cafeteria, “this moron held an interview. With Vogue. And they listened.” Stiles was fairly whimpering in his coffee, before groaning as his phone rang again.
With a pat on his arm and a sympathetic smile, Lydia left Stiles to go back the sharks of Fashion Week, the press or a competitor attempting to get some hot gossip, going back to her own department to see whether they couldn’t spare a bit to give Stiles a raise. If he survived the next couple of months, he would have definitely deserved it.
Peter would undoubtedly agree with her, once he was back to being more reasonable.
——
“Talia, dear sister, how lovely to see you again.” Peter drawled even as he opened his office door, the skin around his eyes tight even as he grimaced a smile at her. Grunting a little as he was almost shoved aside by her, Peter dropped his attempt at a smile as Talia waltzed into his office without even pausing to greet him.
Seeing Kira looking worriedly at him from where his assistant was seated behind her desk, Peter shot her what he hoped was a reassuring look — which, considering her frown, didn’t work — before closing the door to his office. He already wasn’t looking forward to the next week, especially not when the rest of his company needed his full attention at this time of the year.
The rumors had been threatening his stock for a while now, and Peter knew that if he actually started to lose stock points he might be in big trouble with some of his more fickle stockholders. But for now, his pool of managers had, for reasons unknown to him, decided that off-days and reasonable hours were unnecessary. They had been putting in a truly ridiculous amount of hours and Peter was sure he had seen most of them sleep in their offices more than once these last months.
Lydia was keeping his stockholders happy for now by way of baffling them with numbers, Boyd was handling the shops that bought their stock admirably, somehow managing to sell their older collections to them as they waited for the new one, and Stiles was waging outright war on his behalf.
The shit that had come his way lately had been almost unbelievable, and Peter was still terrified the company he loved and worked his ass off to built was about to collapse on him, but he hadn’t expected his employees to be so loyal to him. He tried to be a good boss, of course he did. He might not always come across as the nicest guy around, or the most sympathetic, but he cared for his company and his people.
His employees were his pack, even if they weren’t Supernaturally aware, even if he wasn’t an Alpha. He’d do everything he could to keep this company standing, not just because it was his passion, but because all the effort his employees put in it.
But the fact was that the employees that had left with his designs in their grubby hands were now threatening his livelihood, his pack, his everything. And his stupid nephew holding an interview didn’t make it any better, it made it almost impossibly worse even. And now his sister was here for an entire week…
Peter honestly despaired for his company surviving the week. With his sister here, he could hardly do all the work he needed to do. Even his managers needed direction, but he had been forced by his sister, who was despite everything still his Alpha, to cancel all those important meetings.
No matter that they were necessary to his company. His Alpha wanted his undivided attention.
Damn her. Damn her to all hell. And damn him for not being an Alpha himself, or at least having finally found a new, more agreeable Alpha.
——
“The eagle has landed.”
Danny squinted at the woman who had just walked into his computer palace, taking in the fact that she wasn’t wearing shoes, her socks were mismatched — and one was definitely not her size — her sweater had coffee stains and the bags under her eyes probably deserved to be counted as actual countries, and deduced that she must be from Stiles’ department.
“Thank you. If you want to get some rest, you can borrow my — alright then.” Danny hadn’t been able to finish his sentence before the woman had dropped face down on his bed, muffled snores almost immediately coming from where her face was buried in the fluffy pillows.
It appeared that Talia Hale had arrived. Tapping at his keyboard, Danny sent out a quick, company wide message to inform everyone else that secrecy was now the most important word of the week.
——
“Peter, there has been a—”
Lydia cut herself off with a frown as she walked into Peter’s office, even though she knew full well that his sister would be there.
The moment she had opened the door, the woman had stopped talking at Peter, turning to look at the newcomer who hadn’t even deigned to knock before entering. Looking the small woman who was standing in the doorway over for a second, taking in the short, flowery dress that showed off long, tanned legs ending in a pair of high-heeled Louboutins, Talia dismissed her as nothing more than Peter’s personal eye candy.
Peter saw the exact moment his sister made that mistake, by the sour look marring her elegant face, and had to work to keep his grin hidden.
“Yes, some coffee would be nice.”
His grin died a swift death and Peter didn’t even bother to hide his wince as Lydia froze.
“Excuse me.”
“Coffee. One sugar for me, please.”
Lydia let her gaze move from the back of Talia’s head, and aimed an incredulous glare at Peter, who grimaced in apology. The nerve of this woman, to just look at her and suggest—right. She had told Stiles there would be no maiming, that meant she couldn’t maim either. Pity.
“Hilarious.” Lydia finally found her voice again, but this time her tone was ice cold. “I’m not your servant. Peter, Blackwood needs to speak with you, he’s on the phone in conference room three.”
Peter was half out of his seat already in relief, when Talia turned around with a thunderous look on her face.
“My brother isn’t going anywhere, tell this Blackwood to reschedule for next week.”
Eyes narrowed.
“Are you one of our shareholders, ma’am?” Somehow, Lydia managed to still sound civil. Which was more than Talia could boast.
“Not yet, but I’m sure my brother—”
“Frankly,” Lydia cut her off, making a slashing move through the air with the ever-present tablet in her hand, eyes hard, “Peter isn’t the one who manages the stocks, that would be me. And I’m not going to sell you any stocks anytime soon, not after what your idiot of a son did. Honestly, giving an interview like that? He’s just begging to be sued. No, you’ll never be one of our shareholders if I have a say in it, and it seems like I do. Blackwood, however, is one of our shareholders, and he’s requesting a meeting.”
Lydia marched over to Peter, past a furious Talia, and pulled a slightly stunned Peter from his seat with force, before pushing him towards the exit of his office. When Talia moved to stand as if to follow her brother, Lydia aimed an icy glare at her.
“Stay seated, ma’am. This meeting has nothing to do with you, and is only open to other shareholders. You’re free,” Lydia’s face twisted as if she had bitten down on an especially sour lemon, “to tour the company while you wait for Peter to return. That might take a couple of hours, so might I also suggest returning to your hotel?”
Without waiting for an answer from the fuming woman, Lydia closed the door behind her, slamming it a bit harder than necessary. As she turned to look at her boss, she could see some of the tension seep from him, and it took everything she had to keep her scowl from showing. Damn that woman for showing up now, for attempting to fuck up everything for them, for their boss.
“The meeting might take a couple of hours, Blackwood wants to talk some things through regarding the new collection.” Lydia gentled her voice in an attempt to assure Peter that while she was furious with his sister, she wasn’t angry with him.
“How long has he been waiting?” Lydia could see the moment Peter returned to his business mindset, back straightening as his eyes flashed, ideas flowing through that brilliant head of his.
“Five minutes, Stiles has been entertaining him.” A.K.A, informing Blackwood why Peter was late. Their shareholders had all been carefully handpicked by either Peter or the manager pool, and they could easily be trusted to understand their current difficulties. These good relations were why their stock hadn’t dropped yet.
Lydia and Kira exchanged meaningful looks as Peter hurried towards conference room three. There was no way in hell that they were going to let their boss’ sister ruin what they had worked so hard to built, there was no way they’d let her ruin Peter.
They might have to give Stiles free reign.
——
“No no, Ruth! Ruth, get over here!” Erica shouted over the heads of her worker bees, watching as a harried woman rushed over to her. “There you are you — Ruth, there’s a feather in your hair.”
Ruth grunted a little as she aggressively dragged both her hands through her curly hair at the same time, snagging on a few knotted bits but also succeeding in removing the feathers that some intern decided would fit nicely on a headdress. Spoilers, they didn’t and had to be removed.
“What is it, boss?” Ruth grumbled, accepting a cup of coffee from a passing intern who had been delegated to beverages today, downing it in two big gulps. “There’s a dress being fucked up over there, it’s almost a near copy of our stolen collection and the designer you put on that dress is in tears.”
“Right, I’ll go and have a chat with Roberto in a bit, but just, I need you to look with me for a moment. This skirt?” Erica was motioning at one of the pieces that she herself had marked as complete just a few days ago. “It’s amazing, right?”
“Of course it is, it’s been approved and ready for manufacturing.”
“No it fucking isn’t!” Erica yelled, though not to Ruth but to the skirt in question, looking seconds away from throwing her own coffee at the incredible creation they had worked hard on. “Do you know why, Ruth? Because Marc fucking Jacobs just revealed that his new collection will be having a skirt that looks way too much like ours! We’ll be accused of copying!”
Ruth was a bit terrified of Erica at this moment, as a glance at her boss revealed that she was this close to tears. First Roberto with the dress, now the skirt, it seemed like everything was working against them at the moment.
As if the universe read her mind and decided things could always get worse, the doors to their open office dash workplace plan opened as Talia Hale moved inside the room.
Luckily, they had practiced for this. The woman barely had time to blink, or designs were being stashed away, clothing disappearing everywhere — one intern somehow managed to stash a very loud pair of shoes down his shirt and look like he was still sitting comfortably — papers were turned upside down and screens were turned off.
As one, everyone turned around to look at Talia. They were no longer yelling over one another to be heard. No longer crying over something or the other, though there were still some red eyes all around and Roberto was hiding behind a potted plant hugging his cactus. They were all just staring at Talia.
It clearly unnerved the Hale sister, but for a long minute she seemed to persevere through the painfully obvious silence created just for her.
“Excuse me miss, could you…” Talia trailed off, looking confused as instead of answering or even listening to her, Erica turned her head to resolutely stare at the blank wall for a second. Once Talia stopped talking, she turned back to stare blankly at her once again.
“Excuse me…” Erica looked away again.
“This is unbelievably rude, do you know who I am?” Talia was frowning, and looked close to putting her hands on her hips besides from just looking at Erica with disappointment.
“You’re Talia Hale.” Erica broke her silence with an annoyed sigh, inspecting her nails and frowning when she found that one was a little chipped. She’d need to get a new manicure, something which she definitely didn’t have time for. “And word is out that you’re not a shareholder.”
“Yes,” Talia sounded perturbed, “my brother mentioned that I could freely tour the company.”
“Yes you can.”
Silence stretched for a bit as Erica and Talia stared at one another, the first looking bored while the second had an expectant look on her face. It took almost a full minute before Talia let out an agitated sigh.
“Then why is it that I can’t get an idea of this company in any of the departments?”
“Because you stress Peter out. We don’t like people that stress Peter out. And your son is an idiot.”
Judging that to be enough information, Erica turned on her heels resolutely and marched back to her desk, ignoring the sputtering Talia she left behind. The woman would leave eventually after being ignored enough, and that would mean they could get back to work, finally.
They had so much work to do still. And not enough coffee in the world to get through in unscathed.
Damn those thieves to hell.
——
“How is everything going with the new collection, Peter?” Deucalion Blackwood was leaning back into his expensive leather chair, tablet in his hands as he flipped through the drawings Peter had just sent through, along with a couple of pictures of the very few finished pieces they had. “Do you need me to send you any help?”
Once the door had closed and Peter had found himself alone in the conference room with just one of his closest friends on a giant screen, Peter sat down heavily on a chair, slouching with a sigh. He was tired down to the bone, but even with this break from his sister, he knew that until Fashion Week was over and done with, he wouldn’t be able to get a good night’s rest any time soon. No matter how much he needed it, he wasn’t going to sleep well knowing none of his employees were doing the same.
He wasn’t that kind of boss. He had promised himself a long time ago that he’d never be that kind of boss.
“I think we might just finish on time, but maybe a conference call between Erica and Kali would help. Apparently some of the new collection — the skirt on the fourth page for example — look too closely to what Marc Jacobs is going to be doing, so we need some new ideas.”
And he was flat out of ideas. Normally, he would have no issue creating something new and amazing, but with his collection having been stolen, the rush, his family…he was just tired. His ideas were running dry and he had no way of going somewhere to dig up new inspiration, he simply didn’t have the time he needed.
Bless his employees for working as hard as they did, but even Erica probably needed some help by now. And Kali would probably have some new ideas, if given the time to share them.
The most difficult part would be dragging Erica away from her department for a while.
“I can set that up, no problem. A couple of hours first thing tomorrow sound alright for you?”
“I can’t thank you enough, Duke.” Peter sighed, making the Alpha grin wolfishly at him through the webcam.
“Don’t thank me, thank that lovely young man with the moles. He set up this meeting to, and I quote, ‘get you away from the office and that’ — well, I’m not going to reveal what he had to say about dear Talia, but it wasn’t too kind.” Peter blinked owlishly at the screen. “Charming young fellow, quite blunt. I do like him, where did you manage to find him?”
“Stiles?” Peter answered even though he was struck dumb. Stiles had set up this meeting? Just to give him a break from Talia? And Deucalion hadn’t minded? “Stiles found me. He interviewed me on where I was taking the company, and brought my current manager pool with him.”
“Ah, so he is your second, then.”
“He isn’t pack.” But he so dearly wished the clever young man was his pack. “He isn’t Supernaturally aware.”
“He could be though. You could make your own pack. Remember, I did offer to find you an Alpha to kill.”
And while Peter appreciated Deucalion’s ruthlessness, he was quite ruthless himself when it came to protecting that which he loved, he found himself reminded of why he hadn’t joined Deucalion’s pack. The Alpha had a pack of Alphas around him, all with the obvious Alpha traits that meant that sometimes, as a pack, they didn’t quite work out.
Peter didn’t want a half-dysfunctional pack. He wanted a pack with Betas, with humans, with Others, a pack like he had grown up in. But then better in every way, with no one being left behind, with everyone valued for who they were and what they did, no matter how bloody their solutions might be.
And though Deucalion had made an Alpha pack work for him, Peter didn’t see himself happy in that.
Not that he was happy now, but he could still get there.
Stiles as his second.
If the company’s employees were a true pack, Stiles would probably indeed be his second. Either him or Kira. Lydia would probably be his enforcer, though Stiles might also fill that position. And Erica—
Peter sighed. He was getting way ahead of himself. They weren’t a pack.
And with the way his company was going, they were likely never going to be a pack.
——
“Give me some good news.” Stiles spoke up as he tripped inside the meeting room, nearly walking straight into Boyd before falling onto his seat and spilling some coffee on his lap.
Cursing loudly, Stiles pressed napkins on his leg in hopes of absorbing at least some of the spilled life liquid, almost spilling the rest of his coffee in the process. His friends watched his frantic movements for a moment in amusement, before Kira finally reached over and patted him on the shoulder.
“You’ve got some spare pants at your office, just leave it be.”
“But I really liked these pants.” Stiles outright whined, even though he did stop patting. He knew it was a lost cause, he knew of course he did, but this was just one more crappy thing happening on an entire day of crappy shit.
“I have some good news.” Erica kindly decided to take the attention away from Stiles for now. “Peter and Blackwood set up a meeting between Kali and I for tomorrow morning, so I’ll probably be able to present the last new designs in the afternoon. If that all works out as I’m hoping, we might just have all the concepts we need by the end of the day.”
“I might have missed this somewhere,” probably because of the polite messages of how and where all the journalists could shove their opinions, “but what is the theme of the new collection? I’m assuming we didn’t continue with the navy theme, correct?”
Stiles got a couple of deadpan looks, and only shrugged sheepishly in response to them. He was fairly sure he had probably seen the theme somewhere on the stack of papers on his desk, but his focus wasn’t currently on promoting the new collection. That would come after Erica had at least a full collection to work on and be nearly ready to show the world.
Yes, normally he’d be more than aware of the theme and already be working on promotion material. But for this collection, he had to delegate a lot more to his army of minions. Not just because of the bad press surrounding them due to the theft, but also because their last collection had been a hit and people expected a lot of them. Expectations which he was working his ass off to keep in place.
“Revenge. Modern look, sharp lines, bit of punk thrown it. It’ll be so different from the collection people will know was stolen from us, but we’re aiming to make it bigger. The critics called our first collection daring,” and it had been, with their theme having been Wild Fall, consisting of copious amount of fall colors and animal prints that somehow worked, “they’ll call this one a statement.”
No one mentioned the way Erica crossed her fingers behind her back, because they were all hoping that the collection would be exactly what she was saying.
“I could kiss you.”
“Please don’t.”
Stiles stuck his tongue out at Erica, before looking at Kira next.
“Any updates on The Sister?”
At the mention of Talia Hale, Kira’s face darkened and she looked ready to spit fire, not quite a look any of them were used to see on the normally mild-tempered woman.
“The sooner that…that woman is gone, the better. She has Peter running everywhere for her like he’s an errand boy! The first time I saw him relaxed today was after he came out of the faux-meeting you set up with Blackwood, Stiles, and thank you for that. She’s been making me run for coffee like I’m just an assistant, and she tried to order me to give her a copy of the current collection. I’m this close to shoving that scrapped skirt up where — ugh!”
Kira cut herself off before she could get too graphic, but everyone was still leaning back a bit in their chairs, eyes wide. They had not expected that blow up, especially not as Kira often saw the best in people and tried not to judge. To have her ready to spit nails was a new one, and a terrifying one as well.
“Well, we’re chasing her out of our departments pretty easily.”
Isaac got a dark look from Kira for his troubles, and shrugged a little even as he started fiddling with his scarf again.
“Chasing her out, yes. But she just returns to the office to complain to Peter and there’s only so much meetings I can fabricate on the spot.”
“Well, we could always—”
“No Stiles,” Lydia immediately leaned over to smack him on the back of the head, knowing him well enough by now, “we’re not breaking into her hotel and fucking her stuff up. We keep this nice and professional, and provide Peter with some Irish coffee now and then, but no lawbreaking. Do I need to remind you that her husband is a lawyer?”
“He’s a shitty one though.” Stiles pouted a little, slouching in his seat again. Another plan scrapped. At this rate, he might never get to commit a crime ever again. How boring.
“Stiles,” Danny finally spoke up, an odd look on his face as he took in the information on his laptop, “remember the plan we talked about just after the designs got stolen? Before everything became so hectic?”
Stiles frowned a little in thought before he suddenly straightened again, twisting his entire body around in his seat so that he could shoot Danny an excited look. “Yes, I remember that! I could still do that, if I have enough time and manage to catch the right flights. I could visit most of them before Fashion Week, plan a couple of conference calls for those I can’t meet in person. I’d need to take an assistant with me, the files we have on the old collection and the work contracts we had with the thieves, but I can still make that work.”
Shoving Isaac off of his chair and ignoring the loud squawk the model let out as he was dumped on the floor, Stiles stole his seat besides Danny. The two started muttering to each other, pointing at whatever it was that Danny had pulled up on his screen.
Lydia broke the silence after a minute, voice deadpan as she spoke.
“Care to enlighten the rest of us?”
“I could.” Stiles shrugged a little. “But I kind of want it to be a surprise for Fashion Week. Can you keep Peter off of my back for like a week after The Sister is gone?”
Frowning, Kira looked through Peter’s schedule on her planner, making note of the appointments that were planned, before nodding.
“Sure, I can move your appointment for the Thursday to next week, that should give you a week and a half. We’ll explain your absence away to Peter.”
“But this had better be spectacular, Stiles.” Lydia butted in again, scowling with her hands on her hips. “He has enough to worry about without you adding more to the load.”
“If everything goes as planned, it will actually boost our name by quite a bit. Even if only a couple of the meetings work out as I hope, it will still be worth it.”
“This is all good and well,” Boyd finally deigned to look up from his phone, where he was either managing his department from afar or playing Angry Birds, “but we still have Talia to contend with. And I just got news that her spawn is joining us for a day as well.”
Kira’s head hit the table with a loud thunk.
They were going to need a lot more coffee to deal with all this shit.
A side-ways glance at Stiles made her amend that though. Coffee, painkillers and possibly band-aids. Because spawn meant Derek Hale was coming, and Stiles had a bone or fourteen to pick with the guy about that thrice damned interview.
Could this week just end already, please?