Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha novel Chapter 21

Chapter 21: Something Hinky

My computer’s off, which is a little strange—but I boot it up as Penelope sits on the edge of my desk, watching what she can over the cubicle walls.

The computer whirs to life, its gentle hum a stark contrast to the thoughts whirling in my mind. My fingers hover over the keyboard, hesitating for a split second before I punch in my login credentials. The familiar company program interface greets me.

I type in the first client name from Fernsby’s list, my heart rate quickening as the results populate the screen.

Everything matches.

Every. Single. Detail.

The knot in my stomach tightens as I dive deeper, clicking through to the service tabs.

Dates, times, consultants—it’s all there, laid out in neat little rows. But something’s off. My eyes narrow as I spot Scott’s name. Once. Twice. Three times.

"What the hell?" I mutter under my breath.

Scott’s the boss. He doesn’t do consultations. Yet here he is, listed as the consultant for each of these ill-fated accounts. The wrongness of it all prickles at the back of my neck.

I hit print, the machine’s soft whirring a counterpoint to the rapid-fire thoughts racing through my brain. Services rendered, technician names, payment histories—I print it all, for every single account. The growing stack of paper feels like a ticking time bomb in my hands.

Addresses next. I punch them in, one by one, waiting to see if other accounts were serviced for the same address.

Nothing.

Still, something’s off, poking and prodding yet unclear in my memory.

Exiting the program feels like coming up for air after being underwater too long. I dive back in, this time into my company email. Names and addresses fly from my fingertips into the search bar.

Names hit, but the addresses come up empty.

I click through the inquiries, my frown deepening with each one. The clients declined services. All of them. From as recently as one month to as long as three months ago.

The printer whirs to life again as I send each email thread to it. Cross-checking dates of the accounts to my e-mails feels like putting together a jigsaw puzzle where none of the pieces fit.

Services rendered a month or two before their initial inquiries? In one case, they’d upgraded their security systems one day before declining services.

It makes no sense.

Something’s hinky.

I catch Penelope’s eye, jerking my head towards the door. Time to go. We need to talk, away from prying eyes and ears.

A familiar voice cuts through the air.

"Nicole! You’re back?"

Scott. His sudden appearance sends a jolt through me, my muscles tensing as if preparing for a fight. Or flight.

"Hello, sir." Keep it professional. Distant. He acted so pathetic when I told him it was over, but didn’t call me once while I was in the hospital.

"Where have you been?" His question is a whisper, his face too close to mine. He smells like pasta and a strange perfume I don’t recognize. Feminine. Must be his girlfriend.

Startled by his question, I glance at Penelope. Her face is already reddening, hands tightening into fists as she glowers in Scott’s direction.

Keeping my voice low out of courtesy, I respond with as short of an answer as I can manage. "I texted you. I was in the hospital. Just discharged today."

He frowns, not even glancing at my best friend. "Come to my office."

Penelope shakes her head at me, but I just hand her the stack of papers I printed. "Wait for me, I’ll be right back."

"Five minutes, Nicole."

The or else I’m coming in there and beating his ass is not spoken, but I hear it plain as day. "Got it."

It isn’t like I want to be in a room alone with Scott either, but if he doesn’t know where I’ve been—again, that hinky radar goes off.

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