Page 13 of Grumpy Alien Billionaire (Mates of Veritas #2)

CHAPTER 13

TYLER

T he clock on the wall ticks closer to closing time, and I’m just finishing up brushing out a particularly stubborn mat on a Shih Tzu’s ear when the bell above the door jingles. Cindy’s head snaps up from the counter where she’s been scrolling on her phone, and she groans.

“No. No way. We’re closing in ten minutes. Tell them to come back tomorrow.”

I glance over my shoulder. A man stands in the doorway, holding a leash attached to a poodle that looks like it’s been rolling in flour. He’s average height, average build, average everything—except for the way he moves. It’s… off. Like he’s not quite used to his limbs. He steps inside, and the door swings shut behind him with a soft click.

“Hi there,” I say, forcing a smile. “What can we do for you?”

“Nails,” he says, his voice flat, like he’s reading from a script. “Just the nails.”

Cindy groans again, louder this time. “Tyler, I’m not staying late for this. I’ve got plans.”

“It’s fine,” I say, though my stomach twists a little. There’s something about this guy that makes my skin crawl. “I’ll take care of it.”

Cindy narrows her eyes at me, then at the man. “You sure? He looks… weird.”

“Cindy,” I hiss, shooting her a look. She shrugs, unapologetic.

“I’m just saying. He’s got that ‘I might be a serial killer’ vibe. You know, like that guy from the true crime podcast we listened to last week.”

“Cindy!” I snap, my face heating up. I glance at the man, but he’s just standing there, staring at us with an expression that’s somehow both blank and intense at the same time.

“What? He’s not even reacting. That’s creepy, right? Normal people would at least laugh or something.”

“Can you just… go take out the trash or something?” I mutter.

Cindy rolls her eyes but grabs the trash bag from behind the counter. “Fine. But if you get murdered, I’m telling the cops I told you so.”

She disappears into the back, and I turn back to the man, forcing another smile. “Sorry about that. She’s… a lot. Let’s get your pup taken care of.”

He nods, still not saying anything, and hands me the leash. The poodle waddles over to me, its tail wagging lazily. It’s a sweet dog, at least, and I kneel down to give it a quick scratch behind the ears.

“What’s his name?” I ask, trying to make conversation.

“Fluffy,” he says, his tone still flat.

“Cute.” I stand up and lead the poodle over to the grooming table. “This won’t take long. Just a quick trim, and you’ll be on your way.”

He follows me, standing a little too close for comfort. I can feel his eyes on me as I lift Fluffy onto the table and start clipping his nails. The silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable, and I find myself babbling just to fill it.

“So, do you live around here? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“No,” he says, his voice clipped.

“Oh. Just visiting, then?”

“Yes.”

I glance up at him, but he’s staring at Fluffy, his expression unreadable. There’s something about the way he’s standing, the way he’s not blinking, that makes my stomach churn. I focus back on the poodle, my hands moving quickly.

I’m just finishing up Fluffy’s nails when the man—Bob, he’d said his name was—leans in a little too close. His breath smells faintly metallic, like he’s been chewing on pennies. I try not to wrinkle my nose as I set the clippers down and give Fluffy a quick pat.

“So,” he says, deliberately, “I’ve seen you around town with that business tycoon. Alfonso Ramone.”

I freeze for a second, my hand still on Fluffy’s back. The way he says it isn’t casual. It’s like he’s testing me, probing for something. I force a laugh, though it comes out a little strained.

“Yeah, I’ve been seeing him socially,” I say, keeping my tone light. “Guess dating a billionaire makes me tabloid fodder, huh?”

Bob doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even smile. He just stares at me with those unblinking eyes, and I feel like a bug under a microscope. My skin prickles, and I busy myself with unclipping Fluffy’s leash from the table.

“Are you sexually active with him?” he asks, his voice flat, like he’s asking about the weather.

My head snaps up, and I glare at him. “Excuse me? That’s not an appropriate question.”

He doesn’t even flinch. Just keeps staring at me, his expression blank. I half expect him to apologize, but instead, he tilts his head slightly, like he’s considering something.

“Do you think Mr. Ramone cares about you deeply?” he asks, his tone unchanged.

I blink, caught off guard. The question feels like a punch to the gut, and I don’t know how to answer. My mind races, trying to figure out what he’s getting at, why he’s asking these things. I take a step back, putting some distance between us.

“I… I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” I say, my voice sharper than I intended. “Look, Fluffy’s all set. You can take him now.”

I hand him the leash, but he doesn’t take it right away. He just stands there, staring at me, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s even human. There’s something off about him, something I can’t quite put my finger on. Finally, he takes the leash, his fingers brushing against mine. His skin is cold, and I pull my hand back quickly.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice still flat. He turns and walks toward the door, Fluffy trotting beside him. Just before he leaves, he pauses and looks back at me. “Be careful, Miss Wilcox.”

The door closes behind him, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My heart’s pounding, and I feel like I’ve just been through an interrogation. I glance at the time. Five minutes to closing. I can’t wait to get out of here.

I pull out my phone the second the door closes behind Bob, my fingers trembling as I dial Lanz’s number. It rings once, twice, then goes straight to voicemail. His smooth, confident voice fills my ear, but it’s not him. It’s just a recording.

“Hey, it’s me,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Something weird just happened at work. This guy came in, and he was… off. He asked me about you. About us. I don’t know, it freaked me out. Call me when you get this, okay?”

I hang up and stare at the screen for a moment, half expecting him to call back immediately. When he doesn’t, I shove the phone into my pocket and get back to work. Cindy’s already gone, and I’m left alone with the hum of the fluorescent lights and the faint smell of wet dog.

By the time I finish closing up, the sun’s dipping low in the sky, casting long shadows across the street. I step outside, locking the door behind me, and glance around. Everything looks normal—tourists snapping photos, locals hurrying home, the usual buzz of Sunny Cove’s downtown. But the back of my neck prickles, like someone’s watching me.

I scan the crowd, but no one stands out. Just faces, all of them blending together. Still, I can’t shake the feeling. I stick to the busiest streets, weaving through groups of people, my heart pounding with every step. Every time someone brushes past me, I flinch.

When I finally reach my apartment building, I’m almost running. I’m halfway up the stairs when I hear voices—Cindy’s laugh, high and bright, and then a deeper, familiar tone. My stomach drops.

I round the corner, and there he is. Bob. Standing at my door, talking to Cindy like they’re old friends. Cindy’s leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed, grinning like she’s in on some joke.

“Tyler!” she says, spotting me. “This guy says he knows you. He’s been waiting for, like, ten minutes. I was just keeping him company.”

Bob turns to look at me, his expression blank. “Miss Wilcox,” he says, his voice flat. “We need to talk.”

My mouth goes dry. “What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares at me with those unblinking eyes. Cindy glances between us, her grin fading.

“Uh, should I… go?” she asks, her voice uncertain.

“No,” I say quickly, my voice sharper than I mean it to be. “Stay.”

Bob tilts his head slightly, like he’s considering something. “This is a private matter,” he says, his tone unchanged.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know you,” I snap, my heart racing. “And I don’t want to talk to you. So whatever it is, you can say it in front of her.”

Cindy raises an eyebrow, looking from me to Bob and back again. “Uh, okay. What’s going on?”

Bob doesn’t take his eyes off me. “I’m here to warn you,” he says. “About Alonzo Ramone.”

My stomach twists. “What about him?”

“He’s not who you think he is,” Bob says, his tone flat. “And if you continue to associate with him, you’ll be in danger.”

Cindy snorts. “Danger? What, is he, like, a mob boss or something?”

Bob doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even smile. He just keeps staring at me, his expression unreadable.

“I’m serious,” he says. “You need to stay away from him.”

I take a step back, my heart pounding. “Who are you?”

He doesn’t answer. Just turns and walks away, his footsteps echoing down the hall. Cindy watches him go, her mouth hanging open.

“What the hell was that?” she asks, turning to me.

I don’t answer. I can’t. My mind’s racing, trying to make sense of what just happened. All I know is that I’ve never been more scared in my life.