Page 47 of Omega's Formula

Nolan glances at me, surprise flickering across his features. Like he wasn’t expecting sincerity.

“Thanks,” he says after a moment, then he turns back to the window.

We don’t speak for the rest of the drive.

The city rises up around us again, buildings pressing in on all sides, and I watch Nolan’s reflection in the glass. His eyes are distant, unfocused. Whatever conversation happened in that hospital room, he’s still having it in his head.

I want to ask. I want to know what Ellie said, how she reacted, whether she’s angry or hurt or both, but it’s not my place. We’re not really married, not really partners. I’m just the alpha he’s tolerating for her sake.

The thought shouldn’t sting as much as it does.

The car drops us at the apartment and Nolan is out the door before I’ve even unbuckled my seatbelt. He takes the stairs two at a time—we’re only on the third floor—and by the time I reach the landing, he’s already unlocking the door.

“I’m going to lie down,” he says without looking at me. The bedroom door closes behind him. Not a slam—just a firm, deliberate click.

I stand in the living room of my own apartment, hands in my pockets, feeling like an intruder.

The afternoon light slants through the windows, catching dust motes in the air. The couch still has my pillow and blanket from last night, folded neatly. Nolan’s jacket hangs by the door. His coffee mug from this morning sits in the sink, unwashed.

There are traces of him everywhere. His scent lingers in the air, stronger than yesterday. It feels warmer and sweeter for some reason, and even more delicious than it usually is.

I should work. I should pull out my laptop and catch up on my emails, prepare for the meetings I’ll have to attend remotely over the next two weeks. Instead I find myself drifting to the window, staring out at the street below, thinking about the taste of his mouth.

This is dangerous. I know it’s dangerous. He’s not mine. Letting myself want him is a recipe for disaster.

But I do want him. God, I want him so badly it’s becoming difficult to think about anything else.

My phone buzzes. Sara’s number.

I glance toward the bedroom door—still closed, no sound from inside—and answer.

“Sara.”

“Erik. Is this a good time?”

“As good as any.” I keep my voice low, moving toward the kitchen to put distance between myself and the bedroom. “What did you find?”

“The discrepancies you asked about the West research timeline.”

My hand tightens on the phone. “And?”

I want to hear that I was wrong. If Nolan isn’t lying, then that changes everything. It means I can want him without any reservation and it means that I have the power to make everything right with us.

“I don’t have much new yet,” Sara says and my heart sinks. “I’ve been looking into the gaps between what Alistair provided and what our due diligence team uncovered during the acquisition.” A pause, papers rustling. “But they’re explainable. Small companies often have messy records. It doesn’t necessarily indicate anything improper.”

“But it might.”

“It might.” Sara’s voice is careful, measured. She’s been with me for six years, knows when I’m fishing for something specific.“Alistair is coming in next week. He’s bringing additional documentation. He says he has original lab notes, early trial data, the works. He says it’ll clear everything up.”

“Convenient timing.”

“Erik.” A warning note. “Alistair Wallace has been a good partner. His work formed the foundation of the program. If there were issues with the original research, we would have found them by now.”

She’s right. We did extensive due diligence before the acquisition. Background checks, patent searches, independent verification of the research. Everything came back clean.

But Nolan seems so certain. So angry. It doesn’t feel like the vague bitterness of someone who lost out on a business deal. The anger with which he looks at me feels like the specific, burning fury of someone who’s been personally wronged.

“Just make sure we have time to review the documents before Alistair arrives,” I tell Sara. “I want to see everything.”