Page 28 of Pack Choice
In fact, I may start on that tonight. Cat shopping. I smile to myself, and the alpha’s eyes slide to me.
He can stare at me all he likes. It’s his job after all. Although the way he stares at me definitely has my insides tingling. Sort of possessively. Sort of hungry. Sort of–
The elevator doors ping open and I stride out determinedly. I am not going to let myself get tangled up with my bodyguard. I am not going to let myself get tangled up with my new boss. I certainly won’t be entangling myself with any lone wolves.
I ignore all the side eyes from the other workers and settle on my seat.
Immediately, Mr. Red Flag is towering over my desk.
“Where have you been?”
“Lunch,” I reply, a little shocked at his tone.
“You didn’t say you were going. I didn’t know where you were.”
“You had already left for your own lunch,” I point out.
“Doesn’t matter. I need to know where you are at all times so I can contact you.”
Ford bristles behind him and I throw him a pleading look to stay out of this.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Turner. It won’t happen again.”
“And my name is Colten. Stop calling me that.”
“I apologize, Colten,” I say with an overly sweet smile.
His stiff shoulders relax a fraction. “How are you coming on with the list?”
“I’m getting through it.”
He nods. “I need to add something to it.”
“Okay?” I find the gold pen he gave me this morning and hover it above my pad in readiness.
“I need you to set up the boardroom for our client meeting this afternoon. Nina would usually do it but she’s off sick. Ask Simone if you need any guidance.”
I’d rather gouge my own eyeballs out than ask Simone for any more help, not until I’ve won her on side anyway. But I nod at him anyway.
He stares at me.
“Anything else?” I prompt.
“The meeting’s in ten minutes.”
“Oh.” I jump to my feet. “I’ll get on it now.”
Mr. Red Flag stalks off and I manage to convince Mr. Military to remain in his seat and not follow me across the office.
“The boardroom is made from glass, you can see me from there,” I point out.
So, for the first time all day, I find a moment to myself. Without the rasp of an alpha’s breath lingering behind me; without the scent of an alpha buzzing in my throat. I can actually breathe as I arrange papers on the board table and set up the presentation slides.
This peace lasts precisely five minutes though, before I’m interrupted.
“Well what do we have here?”
The voice is gruff and low, and an unfamiliar scent hits my nose. One of gasoline mixed with wide open spaces.
