Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha novel Chapter 68

Chapter 68: At Work Again

By morning, we’ve talked a lot—kind of.

Among other things.

But Logan’s fully up to date on the not-a-shifter’s visit, and while he hasn’t said much about it, he doesn’t seem thrilled.

There’s other information to be had, too. Like those accounts disappearing from our database. Even when I approached IT, they couldn’t find any evidence they existed. Ever. Not even a whisper of deletion, no matter how far they dug.

Like those accounts and the printouts were a figment of my imagination.

It wouldn’t bother me so much if I didn’t go to those houses in person myself. There were places where wards should have been, and they weren’t there. No trace at all.

Who would go through that much effort?

Faking files is one thing, but no one knew I would go to those homes on my own to investigate.

"Nicole?"

Mike’s voice cuts through my thoughts, and I have to force my face to neutrality when I glance up. "Yes?"

"You doing okay?"

I plaster on a smile, hoping it doesn’t look as fake as it feels. "I’m fine, Mike. Thanks for asking."

The urge to plant my foot squarely between his legs flashes through my mind. I push it down, reminding myself that I need to play nice. For now.

"That’s good to hear." Mike shifts his weight, a nervous energy radiating off him. "Listen, I was wondering if you’d like to grab a drink after work? Just to, you know, clear the air between us."

My stomach churns at the thought. If I drink anything while looking at his face, I might just vomit. "Oh, I’m sorry. I actually have plans tonight." With Logan’s lawyer.

A flicker of annoyance crosses Mike’s face. "What about tomorrow night?"

I hesitate, searching for an excuse. "I’m not sure—"

"A bunch of us are going out," Mike interrupts. "It won’t be just me. Come on, it’ll be fun."

I bite back a sigh. As much as I’d rather gouge my eyes out than spend an evening with Mike, I need to stay connected to the office grapevine. Information is power, especially now.

"Alright," I concede, forcing enthusiasm into my voice. "Tomorrow night sounds great."

Mike’s face lights up. "Fantastic! We’ve missed having you around, Nicole."

His hand lands on my shoulder, lingering a moment too long. I resist the urge to shrug it off, reminding myself of the bigger picture.

Play nice, stay informed, solve mysteries.

"It’s good to be back," I lie through my teeth.

As Mike walks away, I take a deep breath and dive back into my emails.

There’s not actually much to do. With my forced "vacation", all my clients were handed off to other people. Of course, they’re not about to give my accounts back. But that’s fine by me.

I need a paycheck, but I have no interest in doing any real work lately. So I follow up on the occasional inquiry that lands in my inbox, but spend the rest of my time searching things on the internet. Things about supernatural factions, which does nothing except lead me down some interesting—but crazed—rabbitholes of conspiracies.

[PENELOPE: Spill, bitch. Hotel deets. Now.

NICOLE: Stop being a pervert.

PENELOPE: Never. I live vicariously through you.

NICOLE: Get your own life.

PENELOPE: Speaking of no life, I’m coming with you to see that lawyer.

NICOLE: Okay. I’ll send the hotel address & room number later. It’s at 7.

PENELOPE: Perfect. So, is the hotel for you and Logan to fuck in private after?

NICOLE: De-gutter your brain or I swear I’m going to block you. For real this time.

PENELOPE: You’re no fun. Virgin life is getting stale. Not a single decent prospect at the bar in two weeks.

NICOLE: Maybe if you actually slept with someone instead of just flirting, you’d have better luck.

PENELOPE: Rude. I’m saving myself for Mr. Right.

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