Page 7 of Heat & Deceit
“Um. Sure.” I move far away from the desk to give them some semblance of privacy and turn to study shelves lined with various vases and pottery. Some pieces are so delicate, I have no idea how they were made. I started throwing pottery in rehab, one of the hobbies I chose to keep my mind occupied, but even if I practice for years, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to create such a nice piece.
Mr. Gray’s voice is cast low, but the deep rumbling of his baritone brushes over my skin, and while I can’t make out the words, my hairs rise at the frustration I sense in his words.
“She was being sketchy,” Lain hisses loud enough for me to hear. “My job is to protect you from threats—”
Mr. Gray cuts her off again, and I meander farther away from the desk, not interested in hearing Lain’s lies about me. Am I awkward? Absolutely. Somewhat socially anxious? One-hundred-percent. Sketchy? Not anymore.
The wheels of her chair roll over the tile, and something slams on the desk. Unable to stop myself, I glance in their direction. Lain is gathering her things, cheeks stained with tears. She casts furious glances in my direction. A line forms between my eyebrows, and my gaze jumps to Mr. Gray.
His features are devoid of emotion while he watches her with his arms crossed over his chest. Lain sniffs loudly and mutters something that sounds vaguely likebitchbefore she storms around the desk and slams through the door. My eyebrows hit my hairline.
Did she get fired because of me?
Mr. Gray heaves a sigh and locks the door. My heart jumps into my throat at the soft snick. I take a breath and remind myself I’m not helpless. I have my Mace. I’m here for one thing and one thing only. I made the decision to come here.
Mr. Gray grimaces as he approaches. “I’m sorry about Lain. She’s been working with me for three days, and you’re not the first person she’s tried to run off.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say lamely.
“Of course, I did.” His eyes run over me, not in a lecherous way, more like he’s ensuring I’m okay. It’s strange. “Shall we go to my office?”
“Lead the way.” There’s no way I’m giving an alpha my back, especially when we’re alone. Being closed in a room with him is the last thing I want, but he’s been cordial. He fired Lain for being a jerk.He’s still an alpha.I slip my hand into my purse and grip my Mace, just in case.
Mr. Gray’s office is situated on the other side of the wall behind the reception desk. Like the lobby, the room is plain. A few filing cabinets. A desk for Mr. Gray, with upper and lower cabinets behind him. I take my seat in the hardback chair and study him as he settles into his, ignoring how much the space smells like him. I ignore the way that scent makes my inner omega prickle with awareness.
He rests his arms on the desk and sets those intense blue eyes on me. “How did you find me?”
“A friend.”
His eyebrows lower. “Who?”
I press my lips together. I’m not about to drop Kiki’s name like a snitch.
“Are you a cop?”
I scoff. “Do I look like a cop?”
This time, when his gaze skates over me, it’s more curious. “Not exactly. How did you find me?”
“Does it matter?”
He smirks. “Actually, yeah. I need to know who I’m dealing with before I offer my guidance.”
I can’t begrudge him for being cautious. Giving up Kiki’s name feels wrong, though. “Can I text someone?”
His head tips to the side and nods.
I send off a quick message, and Kiki’s response hits my device almost instantly. Breathing out, I put my phone away and look at him. “Kiki Malone.”
He hums and sits back. “She found me the other day. Quite a friend, you have.”
And there it is. Regardless of how nice Mr. Gray seems, he’s no different from Curtis or my old pack. He’s nothing like Kiki’s alphas, who are wholly devoted to her, and from what I’ve experienced, those alphas are one of a kind. But alphas like this one—those who see an omega as an easy fuck? They’re a dime a dozen.
“She has a pack,” I snap.
“That’s not what I meant,” he says with a scowl. “She threatened me.”
Oh. Okay, well, that’s a little different. An unbidden smile tugs at my lips at the thought of her holding a knife to his throat. Mr. Gray takes it in, something I don’t understand crossing over his features, and holds his hands up in surrender.
