Page 2 of Siren in Love (In Love #1)

Mike

T he next day, a semi-sunny Friday, started out well enough. Mike was early as always, his coffee with a dash of toffee syrup in hand. His office was decorated in deep blues and light grays that lit up when the clouds parted and let the sun shine through. Mike decided that was a good sign.

Then his phone rang.

He spent the next two hours answering a list of questions from his selkie client with all the patience he could muster.

After the call, Mike wondered whether the selkie would ever make it to the altar, but other than making sure the prenup was airtight, there wasn’t much he could do to help with that.

He had about five minutes to sip his coffee before he was interrupted again.

The glass door to his office swung open, and Peter Collins, Mike’s boss and the owner of the law firm, strode in. The vampire’s platinum blond hair was flawless, and his blue eyes as sharp as the tailored suits he wore day in and day out.

“Michael.” Peter lowered his head as if he came bearing bad news.

Mike straightened in his office chair. “What now?”

Peter sauntered all the way over and sat in one of the client chairs across from Mike.

“We shall be having a mediation, and it falls to you to handle it. I am but the bearer of this news, but I have full confidence in your skills to handle such a delicate appointment.”

Mike sighed. “Are you being so formal because you’re making me do it when you should?”

Peter tsked. “That sounds ridiculous. I’d never.”

Peter, being a lawyer, had excellent control of his facial muscles and posture, and even when the lie was such an obvious one, he looked as if he were telling the truth. Mike could admire that about his boss, but he liked it a lot better when he wasn’t on the receiving end of it.

He didn’t mind though. He hadn’t really minded the selkie’s many questions either, had only worried about the marriage falling through, and he knew it was the thought of seeing the cute human again that was keeping him in such a good mood.

What exactly Corvin had stirred in him Mike didn’t know, but it felt too good to question. He smiled at Peter.

“It’s fine either way, boss.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. “You’re very accommodating this morning. Usually, we go back and forth for a few minutes, and I have to make concessions like letting you order fancy catering for everyone. Did you go to a concert? Get new speakers for your home?”

“Nope. But I think fancy catering sounds like an excellent idea.”

Peter tapped his index finger on the armrest of Mike’s client chair. “It’s too late to negotiate now, Michael. Do you mean to make me interrogate you? What is it, then? What did you do?”

Mike shrugged, unable to stop himself from grinning. “I just bought a really sweet pineapple when I went shopping yesterday. I ate it all. It was good. You sure you don’t want to order catering? Everyone would be grateful their boss is so generous and kind.”

Peter froze for several long seconds in the way vampires sometimes did. Then he blew a raspberry. “I am neither kind nor generous. Pineapple. Pah, pineapple. It’s said you can taste it in the blood when someone eats pineapple, but that’s bullshit.”

“You’re not biting me, Peter.”

“Why would I bite you? I need you to handle that mediation, and if you’re anemic, the parties will just talk over you, and we’ll have to call security. It will be very stressful for everyone, and I don’t like that kind of thing in the office. I just don’t…like pineapple.”

Mike was perfectly aware that Peter, having been a vampire for a long time, had likely never had pineapple. He was giving low-key cranky vibes though, and Mike knew what that meant.

“Maybe you should get out and eat someone else if you can’t even let me have my choice of fruit.”

Peter’s forehead creased. “Far be it from me to dictate what you eat, Michael. And I’m not hungry. I ate. Anyway—” He stood. “—please make sure the mediation goes smoothly. You’re the best man for the job.”

Peter left the office quickly, hopefully to seek out a willing neck.

Mike went for his phone and pulled up Corvin’s number. He started humming absentmindedly as he typed.

Do you know the Old Church? They used to have confession, but now they do cocktails. Later tonight, if you’re up for it. My treat.

He read the text over a few times before hitting send. He stared at the screen for longer than was reasonable, but there was no response, and Corvin didn’t seem to be reading text messages at that moment.

Mike tried not to let it bother him, tried not to check his phone every other minute.

Instead, he familiarized himself with the mediation case.

Collins & Partners handled a lot of issues for supernatural clients, but this mediation was just one human ready to sue another.

Peter tended to rub humans the wrong way, so it made sense he’d told Mike to do it.

Mike would be able to smooth things over with just a few notes of his siren song, making everyone’s lives easier in the process.

It was the afternoon when Mike’s phone finally buzzed, almost making him tumble out of his office chair with excitement.

Pineapple Mike! Yes, I’m up for going to church with you. I know where the Old Church is. Meet you outside at 7? Today, right?

Today. 7 on the dot.

Mike fully intended to be at least ten minutes early. He didn’t want Corvin to wait for him. No, for his pineapple dragon tee, Mike was going to be the best date—better than pink salt and spicy cayenne pepper combined.

I’m going to make tonight the best date of his life, Mike thought, the human cutie’s face vivid in his mind’s eye. I can’t wait to see him again.

If Mike’s mother had known he was going on a date, she’d have been beside herself with elation and would dig for details like a dog for a bone.

Mike’s mom was a full siren, while his dad was half siren, and she tended to worry about her only son.

Who had passed thirty. And was still single.

His mom had abandoned any and all pretense of subtlety about his marital status.

“ Your ancestors would have sung a dozen sailors to them by your age ,” she would say.

“Stop thinking about that,” Mike told himself as he finished up his workday and gathered his things. He hummed low, eager to finally get going, get ready, and meet the cute human.

All the way home, he was humming and tapping out a rhythm on his steering wheel, his mood getting better and better the closer he got to meeting Corvin again. He parked in the driveway rather than backing the car into the garage and sauntered along the path to the door.

He was still humming when his phone buzzed. Hoping it was Corvin, Mike pulled it from his pocket, then frowned.

The Mother Ship , the caller ID read.

“I swear she has a sixth sense for this kind of thing,” Mike mumbled as he unlocked his door.

He had a choice to make: answer the call or not, and he went with the latter, letting it go to voicemail. She’d text, he knew that, but telling her he was still busy at work and couldn’t talk was going to be a lot easier that way.

To make it more believable, he took a quick shower and only then answered the nosy text.

Should I make you dinner tonight?

It seemed innocuous enough, but it really meant did he want to come over to discuss whether it was time to let her set him up with someone.

Can’t. Work.

Mike didn’t even feel bad about lying, not when he was going to see snarky Corvin again. He checked his smartwatch.

“Shit.” Only an hour. But I can handle that.