The elevator doors slid shut with a soft ding, sealing us in. Alistair's hands left my back and at the same time I let out a long, shaky breath I didn't even know I was holding.
He turned to face me.
"Bad morning?" He asks, holding out a to-go cup.
I glared at him. "Do you even have to ask?" t
Then my arms went up in exasperation. "Of course it's a bad morning when everyone in the building can smell you on me!"
"Oh," he said, as if this genuinely hadn't occurred to him.
I took the coffee from his hand. "It's bad enough that I'm working here at all, but now I'm walking around smothered in your… whatever this 'scent' thing is?" I gestured vividly with my free hand. "We're not friends. I'm just a placeholder secretary. People are going to talk, and that's the last thing I want."
I took a sip to punctuate the complaint and immediately grimaced.
Milk. A latte.
He'd gotten me a latte. I hated lattes.
Alistair watched me with that calm, unreadable expression. "I did release a small amount of my scent on you yesterday. To keep stray wolves away. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
The complete indifference in his tone and face made me narrow my eyes. "Small amount?"
Then I lifted my arms again, pinning him with a challenged stare. "Then make it go away."
He blinked. "What?"
"You heard me. You're the one who put it on me, so take it back off."
"How?" He asks.
As if I would know. I'm not the wolf now, am I?
"I don't know...suck it back into you? What are you asking me for, you're the one who did it."
Alistair stared at me for a long moment. Then a slow, genuine smile broke across his face.
I hated how the action made my stomach flutter.
Before I could get another word out, the elevator dinged and the doors opened.
Alistair shook his head, still smiling faintly, and stepped out.
Lena greeted us from reception with her usual warm smile. I managed a tight one in return before following Alistair down the hall. Right before we reached his office door, he paused and gestured to a sleek glass cubicle just outside it.
"That's yours." He said simply.
I looked at the space. Desk, computer, phone, filing cabinets. Clean. Professional. Directly in his line of sight.
Of course.
I nodded, trying not to feel like a goldfish in a bowl.
He opened his office door. "Come grab the documents on the side table. I need a few corrections before the afternoon."
Inside, we went over the stack quickly. His handwriting was neat, almost elegant; his instructions were clear. By the time I sat back down at my desk, I already knew the rhythm: screen calls, schedule meetings, transcribe his scribbled notes into clean summaries, arrange travel if needed.
It wasn't rocket science. I'd done this kind of work two years ago at a bank—until my boss got too handsy and I walked out. Freelance gigs and sheer luck had kept me afloat since.
Lunchtime crept up fast. I glanced at the clock: 12:15. Lindsey's place was at least thirty minutes by bus. I didn't want to stay long, but I needed answers.
I started tidying my desk, rehearsing how to ask Alistair if I could leave early, when a knock came on the glass partition.
I looked up.
A man I didn't recognise stood there, smiling. Tall, polished, light gray suit.
"Can I help you?" I asked.
He shook his head. "I'm Thomas. Marketing department. Just need Mr. Reed's new secretary to glance over this before it goes to him." He waved a slim file.
I nodded and reached for it.
"Sure, I can take a look—"
He didn't let go right away.
"Have we met before?" he asked, tilting his head, still smiling—but something in his stare made my skin prickle. He looked too...predatory.
Mental note; stay away from Thomas of the Marketing department.
I slowly shook my head. "No, I don't think so. Sorry. Even if we had, I probably wouldn't remember."
Oh, I definitely would remember someone so unsettling.
He held on another second, eyes locked on mine with an intensity I couldn't name.
It made the hairs on my nape stand still with unease.
"Thomas." Lena's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "Did you compile last week's reports yet?"
He immediately released the file and turned toward her desk, all smooth professionalism. "Yeah, I've got them. Let me grab them for you."
He walked to her desk, voice low as they talked. But he glanced back at me once. Just once.
I pretended not to notice.
I exhaled hard and set the file down on my desk.
Then I stood, straightened my shirt, and walked over to Alistair's office door.
I knocked lightly.
"Come in." His voice was faint through the thick glass.
The moment I stepped inside, the air felt colder, like stepping into a freezer. His office felt cold in a way that made even my tongue shiver.
I hadn't noticed it earlier, but someone had hung Christmas decorations over his lamp and shelves. A half-hearted attempt at festive cheer. But the place still felt lifeless.
"Faye," he said without looking up from his papers.
My stomach fluttered traitorously.
I sat across from him. "It's Chloe. Why do you keep using my middle name?"
He finally glanced up, one perfect brow arching. "You're the one who saved your contact as Chloe-Faye Wilson in my phone. I assumed you didn't mind which one I used."
I shouldn't have done that. I thought.
I cleared my throat. "Can I leave early today?"
He flipped a page. "It's your first day."
Obsidian locks framed his face as he focused on his work, his eyes fixed with concentration as he read through an agreement. He truly was handsome.
No. Stop it, Chloe.
"I've already finished everything on the list," I said quickly. "I promise I'll work harder tomorrow. I just… I have to visit someone. It's important."
He hummed absently, picked up his pen, signed something with a neat flourish, then set it aside.
Then he looked up.
He steepled his fingers together, elbows resting on the desk, chin propped on his intertwined hands.
I blinked, waiting for a response.
He just stared at me.
I fought the urge to bounce my knees impatiently.
Well, this is awkward.
"Your eyes look more green today," he said suddenly.
I froze.
"I wonder what's going on," he added, tilting his head slightly to the side.
My mouth dropped open. Heat flooded my face.
I shot to my feet, gripping my bag strap. "That's just how hazel eyes work. It's the lighting."
Does he always just blurt out whatever he was thinking?
"Can I go?" I asked again, voice tight.
He drew in a slow breath. "What are you really going out to do?"
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Visit someone important. It might help me understand… something."
I hesitated, then forced the words out. "To be honest, I don't think this whole werewolf thing is a coincidence. Neither is Benny. I think my late mother might have been tangled up with lycans. Or worse—she might have been a hybrid."
Alistair seemed to consider this for a moment.
Then he stood, walked over to the coat rack, and pulled on his suit jacket.
(Why had he even taken it off? It was freezing in here.)
He grabbed his keys from a small saucer on the desk. "Then we should get going."
"Wait—hold on." I stepped in front of him, blocking the door. Every time I stood in front of him, I felt like a child. I had to crane my neck just to look at his face. Tilting my head back just to meet his eyes. His very handsome face—no! Stop it, Chloe.
"Why are we going together?" I demanded. "I don't need you to follow me. It's a one person mission, there's no you and me." I say, flicking my finger in the space between us.
His brows creased in a faint frown. "What makes you think it's safe for you to go anywhere alone right now?"
"I went home fine yesterday."
He folded his arms across his chest. The fabric of his shirt pulled tight over muscle. "You went home fine yesterday because you carried my scent. The scent of an Alpha. The scent of power." He saod evenly as he tilted his head again. "I thought you didn't like that? Or would you rather I smother you in more of it?"
I mentally cringed at the thought of everyone in the lobby turning to stare at me again.
I shook my head quickly. "No."
"Very well." He moved to step around me.
I didn't budge.
"You're a very mean person," I said flatly. "I hope you know that."
His lips tugged up into a smirk as he lowered his hands and tucked them into his pockets.
"I know, Faye."
A soft chuckle escaped him as I rolled my eyes, turned on my heel, walking ahead of him toward the elevator.
I could still feel him smiling behind me.