Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha novel Chapter 73

Chapter 73: The Drive

"What took you so long?"

Mike’s whisper in my ear is hot and wet, causing me to flinch almost violently away from him. "Sorry, what?"

"I said, what took you so long?"

I grimace, trying to look upset. "Sorry, Mike. I have a stomachache. I think I need to go home."

"Oh no, that’s terrible!" Someone’s voice drips with insincerity. I can’t tell who’s talking, because my vision barely focuses on any of them. I’m too busy worrying about the stupid panther-person’s vague warning. "We were just getting started."

I force a weak smile in someone’s direction. Maybe it was her talking. Who knows. "Such a shame. Sorry, everyone."

There’s a chorus of fake sympathies. I nod, playing along with their charade of concern. My skin crawls with the need to flee.

Mike leans in close, his breath hot on my ear once again. Gross. "I’ll walk you back. It’s not safe out there for a lady alone."

My stomach twists, and this time it’s not an act. "That’s really not necessary. I’ll be fine."

"Nonsense!" Mike’s hand clamps down on my shoulder. "I insist."

The others chime in with full-blown encouragement that makes my head spin. I want to tell them all to leave me alone, but my mouth remains closed.

Stupid societal niceties and workplace politics.

"Well, if you insist," I mutter, resigned to my fate.

We step out into the cool night air, and I take a deep breath, trying to clear my head. Mike’s presence beside me is suffocating. He walks too close, his arm brushing against mine with every step.

"So, Nicole," he starts, his voice low and what I assume he thinks is seductive. "It’s been a crazy few weeks, huh?"

I grunt noncommittally, keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead. The office isn’t far. I can make it.

Mike stumbles, bumping into me hard enough to make me stagger. His hand finds my waist, steadying me. "Whoa, sorry about that. These sidewalks, am I right?"

I bite back a retort about his coordination and force a tight smile. "No problem."

His hand lingers, and I have to physically step away to break the contact. My skin crawls where he touched me.

"You know," Mike continues, undeterred, "I’ve always admired you, Nicole. Your work ethic, your... dedication."

I quicken my pace, desperate to reach the safety of my car.

Mike matches my stride, his arm swinging wide to brush against mine. "I was thinking, maybe we could grab dinner sometime. You know, outside of work."

Okay. He’s never going to let up if I keep beating around the bush.

"I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mike."

"Why not?" He sounds genuinely confused, as if he can’t fathom why I wouldn’t want to spend more time with him. "We work well together. I think we could have a lot of fun. I’m sure you’re lonely since... well, you know, the thing with Scott."

The thing with Scott.

What a way to describe someone’s murder.

I bite my tongue, resisting the urge to tell him exactly what I think of his idea of fun. Instead, I opt for diplomacy. "I’m not really in a place for dating right now. With everything that’s happened..."

I let the sentence trail off, hoping he’ll fill in the blanks himself. To my relief, the office building is just ahead.

A short walk made interminable with his company.

Mike’s hand finds the small of my back, guiding me towards the parking lot. "I understand. But sometimes, the best way to move on is to, well, move on. You know?"

I step away from his touch, fishing my keys out of my purse. "I appreciate the thought, Mike, but really, I’m good."

We reach my car, and I fumble with the lock, desperate to put a barrier between us. Mike leans against the driver’s side door, effectively trapping me.

"Come on, Nicole. One dinner. What’s the harm?"

The frustration bubbles up inside me, threatening to spill over. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to remain calm. "Mike, I said no. Please respect that."

"Alright, alright. I can take a hint. But if you change your mind..."

"I won’t," I say firmly, yanking open the car door. "Goodnight, Mike."

I slide into the driver’s seat and slam the door shut, locking it immediately. Through the window, I see Mike’s face, contorted into ugly anger before he smooths it out again.

I start the engine, and he knocks on my window.

I hesitate, my hand hovering over the window control. With a sigh, I lower the window a crack.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the paranoid thoughts. But they linger, whispering what-ifs. What if Mike ends up dead, and I’m left to explain why his corpse is in my car? I mean, stranger things have actually happened to me.

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