Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha novel Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Accept That It's Over

"You want to do something for me, Scott?" I meet his gaze, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. "Accept that it's over. Move out of the apartment. And for the love of all that's holy, keep our personal life out of the office."

His expression hardens, but at least he takes a step back, no longer looming over me with all his stinky pheromones and body heat—not to add the terrifying prospect he might try to kiss me. And if he does, I'm going to have to knee my boss in the balls. "So that's it? Two years together, and you're just going to throw it all away?"

"No, Scott. You threw it away. I'm just acknowledging the fact."

He runs a hand through his black hair, frustration evident in every stiff line of his body. "You're being unreasonable. People make mistakes. Couples work through things like this all the time."

"We're not a couple anymore." The words taste like bitter defeat, reminding me of all the time I wasted on a worthless man. "And I'm not being unreasonable. I'm protecting myself from further hurt."

Scott's jaw clenches, brown eyes flashing with annoyance. "So you're just going to give up? Run away at the first sign of trouble?"

"This isn't the first sign of trouble, Scott. It's the last straw. We've been having problems for months. The late nights at the office, the secretive phone calls, the way you've been pulling away. I just didn't want to see it."

Actually, I hadn't really noticed. I just thought he was busy with work, which is the excuse he gave me. As a career woman, I understood the pain.

It wasn't until Penelope asked me some pointed questions that I realized I should have seen the signs a long time ago.

Maybe a little bit of the blame does lie with me. Maybe I could have been a more involved partner.

No wonder he thought he could fuck her in my apartment. He knew he could get away with it.

But even with acknowledging my own flaws, it doesn't excuse his cheating. He could have broken up with me like a real man and before going off to get his dick wet.

"That was work," he protests. "You know how demanding this job can be."

"Do I?" I arch an eyebrow. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you've been using work as an excuse to hide something."

He opens his mouth to argue, but I hold up a hand. "Save it. I don't want to hear any more excuses or justifications. What's done is done."

"You're angry," he says, reaching up to brush his hand against my jaw.

I smack it away, but he just smiles.

"I'm not angry. I don't care anymore." And the lie detector determined that's a lie. I'm furious, of course.

But not as angry as I was.

Now, I just want things to be over. For this relationship to be in my rear view mirror.

And for him to leave me the hell alone.

"You just need some time," he says. "It's okay. I can wait. I'll do anything to make it up to you." ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

Jesus fucking Christ on a tricycle.

"Scott, I don't need time. It's over between us. There's no coming back."

He steps back, holding up his hands with a magnanimous smile. "It's fine. Go back to work, sweetheart. You'll feel better when your to-do list is caught up."

The fuck.

My to-do list is just fine, thank you. Unlike someone else, I keep up with everything and make copious use of sticky notes. On my papers, on my folders, on my monitor, on my desk, even on the mirror in my bathroom.

Nothing beats pen on paper.

It's called the oh shit feature.

As in, when your wards go out and you're defenseless and thinking oh shit, you can use the sharp, pointy end to stab an intruder's eyeball out.

For the record, I'd be more liable to go after his balls than his eye, but hey—that's just what I would do, with one specific intruder.

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