5
T he sleek glass doors slid open as I stepped into the lobby. The stark contrast between the modern, steel-and-glass interior of Vertex Acquisitions and the quaint brickwork facades of the Historical District only heightened my unease. I slid my hand into my pocket and gripped the cufflink, its cool surface pressing into my damp palm.
I approached the reception desk, my shoes clicking against the polished marble floor. “I’m here to see Dominic Steele,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
The receptionist eyed me skeptically, no doubt taking in my decidedly non-corporate attire. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but?—”
“I’m sorry, sir, but Mr. Steele is very busy. Without an appointment?—”
“It’s alright, Sarah,” a familiar deep voice interrupted. “I’ll see him.”
I turned to see Mr. Steele striding towards us, every inch the powerful, accomplished alpha in his tailored charcoal suit. His scent enveloped me, clouding my senses and stirring primal omega urges.
“This way,” he said, gesturing toward the elevators.
I trailed him into the lift.
The ride up to the 25th floor was silent. I was acutely aware of his imposing presence beside me. The elevator’s mirrored walls seemed to closed in on me, making me prisoner to that intoxicating blend of pine and spice until my knees threatened to buckle. I gritted my teeth as I tried to ignore my treacherous body’s response to this alpha’s overwhelming presence. I dug my nails into my palms and fixed my eyes on the ascending floor numbers, desperate to keep my focus on why I’d come to Vertex Acquisitions in the first place.
The doors slid open and I followed him out of the elevator, his swift, self-assured steps forcing me to rush to keep up. The plush carpet muffled our footsteps as we made our way down a corridor lined with glass-walled offices. My eyes darted around, taking in the sleek, modern decor that screamed “corporate success.”
At the end of the corridor, a solid oak door glided open under his touch, unveiling an office that could have swallowed the apartment above my shop. I paused at the doorway, hesitating a few seconds before stepping inside. My boots sank into carpeting so thick and soft it felt like walking on clouds. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched from one end to the other, framing Downtown Millcrest in all its glass-and-steel glory. Sunlight bounced off the neighboring skyscrapers, casting geometric shadows across the stark white walls and the single piece of modern art—a splash of crimson that probably cost more than my yearly income. A sleek black desk dominated one corner, its surface bare except for a laptop and a vintage brass clock that seemed oddly out of place in this shrine to minimalism.
“What can I do for you, Leo?” Mr. Steele asked, leaning against his desk.
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.”
“How did you know it was impromptu?” I raised an eyebrow at him. My words carried more bite than intended, but something about this guy rubbed me the wrong way.
The elevator chimed, announcing our arrival at the lobby.
“I’m his executive assistant—Marcus Cretch.” He extended a manicured hand. “I schedule all his meetings. I’d know if I put you in his calendar. What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t.” I grasped his hand, noting the softness of his palm against my callused fingers. “Leo Sterling-Hart. I run Cobblers’ Corner down in the Historical District.”
I cleared my throat, aware of the contrast between us. The scent of leather and polish clung to me while Marcus Cretch exuded the crisp aroma of expensive cologne deliberately chosen to complement his natural alpha pheromones.
“It was nice meeting you,” he said, as we stepped out of the elevator. “I’m sure we’ll cross paths again.”
“It was nice meeting you too, Mr. Cretch,” I replied. I watched him stride away. A niggling feeling settled in my gut, but I brushed it aside, chalking it up to the stress of the day. I had bigger things to worry about than some nosy executive.
I needed to follow up on another lead.
The bus carried me to Jake’s side of the city, where rent prices dropped and graffiti decorated the brick walls. The weathered apartment building where Rosie said Jake was renting a room hunched against the gray sky. It had seen better days. Water stains streaked down the once-red bricks like dirty tears, and chunks of mortar littered the ground at my feet. A rusty fire escape zigzagged up the wall, its metal groaning with each gust of autumn wind.
“You should have seen Steele’s face when I walked into Vertex,” I said into my phone, stepping over a broken piece of concrete. “All cool and collected behind that mahogany desk of his.”
I opened the main door and the musty hallway air pressed in around me, thick with the scent of someone’s overcooked dinner and the metallic tang of rusted pipes.
“No, Penny, I didn’t cause a scene. Just told him straight up that we won’t let them turn our neighborhood into another soulless shopping district.”
Well, that was kind of what happened…
I knocked on Jake’s door. No answer.
An elderly woman poked her head out of the neighboring apartment. “You looking for Jake?” she asked.
“Hold on,” I whispered into the phone. “I’ll call you back, Penny.”
I ended the call. “Yes, ma’am. Have you seen him recently?”
She frowned. “Not since the other night. He was arguing with some fancy-looking fella outside. Suit probably cost more than this whole building.”
My pulse quickened. “Did you hear what they were arguing about?”
“Nah, but Jake looked scared. Real scared. Haven’t seen him since.”
“Thanks for letting me know, ma’am,” I said. “If you see Jake, tell him to call Leo. It’s important.”
“Sure thing, honey.”
My boots clicked against the stairs as I descended. Jake, arguing with a man in an expensive suit?
Jake knew something—and whatever it was, it scared him enough to disappear. This case was getting more complicated by the minute.