Page 12 of These Shoes Weren't Made for Stalking

I pulled the cufflink from my pocket and showed it to him. “The night you visited my shop—the same night the bakery was vandalized. I found this near the scene of the crime. Care to explain?”

I studied his face for any flicker of recognition, but his expression remained neutral, save for the maddening smile playing at the edges of his mouth. “That’s an interesting accusation you’re making.”

“Is it?” I stepped closer, my anger rising. “You show up at my shop the very night my friend’s bakery got trashed, then at our city council meeting talking about ‘revitalization.’ And now this cufflink. It’s a bit much for coincidence, don’t you think?”

He straightened, his eyes flashing as he loomed over me. “You’re jumping to conclusions. Even if that were my cufflink and I lost it that night—but, just to be clear, it isn’t and I didn’t—it doesn’t mean I had anything to do with what happened.”

I fought my natural omega urge to back away, refusing to let his dominant alpha status shake my resolve.

“Then why were you really at my shop that night?” I demanded.

“I told you, I had a meeting?—”

“At that hour? In the Historical District?”

His fingers drummed an agitated rhythm on his desk, frustration evident in every line of his body. “It’s complicated. There are things going on that you don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me,” I said, taking another step closer.

We were inches apart now. My heart thudded rapidly in my chest as his scent intensified, a heady mix of pine and spice that made my knees weak. I felt my own pheromones responding, filling the air with the rich aroma of artisanal chocolate.

“You don’t understand what this means to me,” I said, the words bursting out before I could stop them. “Those buildings… aren’t just buildings to me. My shop—it’s all I have left of them. My parents, my grandfather...”

Mr. Steele’s expression softened. “Leo?—”

“No. You don’t get to look at me like that. Like you understand.” My voice cracked. “After the accident happened… Grandpa rebuilt my whole world in that shop. Taught me everything I know.” My fingers curled into fists at my sides. “And now your company wants to tear it down?”

“That’s not—it’s more complicated than that.” He stepped closer, his scent wrapping around me like a warm blanket. I knew what he was doing, trying to comfort me using his pheromones—a cheap alpha trick that made my muscles relax against my will. I wanted to stay angry, to keep my guard up, but my body betrayed me, responding to his calming influence. I hated it because it was working and I didn’t know if I could trust him yet.

“Then uncomplicate it,” I challenged, refusing to back down despite how his proximity made my pulse race. “Because right now, I don’t know if I should trust you.”

“Leo,” he breathed, his voice low and husky. His eyes dropped to my lips, and my breath caught in my throat… the way he looked at me—at my mouth—like he wanted to kiss me.

A sharp knock at the door shattered the moment. We sprang apart as a woman—the same woman in the periwinkle suit who’d approached us at City Hall—poked her head in.

“Mr. Steele, your 2 o’clock is here.”

“Thank you, Abigail. I’ll be right out,” Dominic said, his voice slightly strained.

I took a deep breath, trying to clear my head. “This isn’t over,” I said, retreating a pace to create space between us, the gap helping me to regain some measure of my common sense.

“No,” Dominic agreed, his steel-gray eyes intense. His gaze raked over my body from head to toe. “It isn’t.”

I stared at him. Was he referring to my accusation? Or the electric tension that had crackled between us just a moment ago? His eyes, smoldering with intensity, gave nothing away.

I turned on my heel, hurrying out of his office. I brushed my palms over my arms, noticing the goosebumps that had prickled on my skin. My body still tingled in reaction to his proximity—reacting to his scent, acknowledging him as a compatible alpha partner. It shouldn’t be complicated, but questions still gnawed at my thoughts.

A frantic drumbeat echoed in my chest as I stabbed the elevator’s down button and waited impatiently for the door to open. I tapped my foot against the carpet in a restless tempo, eyeing the floor indicator.

A man in an expensive suit approached just as the elevator doors slid open. A gray Armani suit hugged his athletic frame. The crisp scent of starched cotton and imported wool mixed with smoky Amyris in a manner that irritated my nostrils. He nodded politely, and I returned the gesture. I stepped into the elevator with the well-dressed stranger, and the doors slid shut behind us, sealing us in a mirrored box twenty-five stories above the city. His reflection caught mine, lips curved in that particular, practiced smile that spoke of corporate boardrooms.

“I couldn’t help but notice you coming from Mr. Steele’s office,” he remarked, his eyes flicking to my face. “Are you new to the company?”

The question caught me off guard. I shifted my weight, acutely aware of the scuff marks on my work boots next to his polished oxfords.

“Oh, no. I’m not with the company. Just had a meeting with Mr. Steele.”

His eyebrows raised a fraction. “I see. Well, Dominic doesn’t often take impromptu meetings. You must be someone special.”