No one's working.
Everyone's eyes are trained toward Scott's office. Their lips are moving, spreading rumors and speculation.
Far too many glance at me before resuming their whispers.
Maybe sitting in here is a bad idea, after all. It's just making them go wild with their unsubstantiated assumptions.
Grabbing my things, I slip out of the office, heels clicking against the polished floor.
A tide of eyeballs turn my way, and it's everything I can do to keep my face impassive. By some miracle, my cheeks don't flush, despite embarrassment heating the nape of my neck.
My cubicle is a flimsy sanctuary in this hurricane of gossip, and I set my things beside my keyboard with a firm clack, mentally cursing Scott for having his stupid blinds shut. If he didn't, we'd all be able to see what's going on.
Yes, I like gossip—when it doesn't involve me. So sue me. I'm a hypocrite, like most of the earth's population.
Mike's staring at me from the other side of the room, his brows tugged together and lips downturned. Our eyes lock for a brief, awkward moment before I glance away, pretending to focus on my computer screen.
Does he know that Logan's part of SED? Does he think I played dumb about our earlier conversation?
Or is he just another coworker feeding the gossip machine?
I just need everyone to mind their own damn business.
Another muffled thump echoes from behind the closed door.
Gasps ripple through the office like a wave, but I manage to stay composed as my brain flits left and right like a hummingbird, wondering the same thing they are.
What's going on in there?
Logan was furious, but he's also SED. A professional in high-intensity situations.
He can't possibly be beating the snot out of Scott, right?
Everyone's wondering the same damn thing, too.
"Did you hear that?" Marissa from accounting whispers, not quite softly enough. She's one of the few women in this office, and I would have hoped she was on my side.
"I bet it's her new man," Tom replies, his voice dripping with scandalous glee. "Marking his territory. You know how wolves are."
Marissa shushes him, but then continues talking. "I don't think she would bring her lover to her workplace, would she? I mean, she's always so professional…"
Clearly, she's just playing it up for anyone listening. I know the type; they pretend not to be a part of the gossipmongering crew, but they're the shadow leader of it all, spreading rumors with innocent eyelash flutters and shocked gasps.
Somehow, they never know what's going on—while knowing everything that's happened in the last six months.
And how dare they paint me as the villain in this soap opera? It all started as an appointment for anti-magic consultation, okay? The rest of this isn't on me.
Another voice, one I don't recognize, chimes in. "Makes sense. Scott's such a nice guy. Who'd cheat on him?"
Oh, fuck that.
I slam my hand against my desk, the sharp crack silencing the whispers.
All eyes turn to me once again.
I clear my throat, willing my voice to remain steady. "If you all have time to speculate about my personal life, I'm sure there are plenty of reports that need filing." Fixing all of them with an icy glare, I continue, "Scott is dealing with an unhappy customer. Nothing more."
The silence stretches as they share gazes and eye movements. Probably saying things like we'll continue this later, in that universal way we have.
Then, slowly, keyboards start clacking again. Hushed conversations resume, but at least no more heads are peeking over cubicle walls.
I'm halfway through reading a tedious security report when another thump, louder this time, makes me jump. My mouse clatters to the floor, and I curse under my breath as I bend to retrieve it.
Love my wireless mouse. It keeps everything clean and tidy.
Hate it, because I'm always dropping the damn thing. I go through at least two a month when something breaks on it.
"Everything okay over there, Nicole?" Mike's voice, despite the concern in it, grates on my last nerve.
"Just peachy, Mike. Thanks for asking."
He leans against my cubicle wall, arms crossed. "You know, if you need to talk..."
His stare is a little too intent, too direct, leaving me uncomfortable.
Working in a male-dominated field is something that usually has my competitive spirit soaring. For some reason, people think men are better at understanding security. Historically, women record less sales and less satisfaction ratings.
But there are times I hate it. Like now.
I've avoided awkward situations like this for years because I was known as the Ice Queen—the only female in the office who outright refused to date coworkers. Scott, of course, brought that frigid (as he would say) wall down. And now they must think I'm an easy target.
Well, sorry, boys, but my original belief has only been reinforced.
Don't. Date. Coworkers.
"I don't." The words come out sharper than I intended. I soften my tone, not wanting to add fuel to the gossip fire. "But I appreciate the offer."
Mike lingers for a moment, but I turn back to my screen, pretending to focus on what I was reading.
"Don't listen to the gossips," he says, reaching over to squeeze my shoulder.
Unwanted physical contact. According to HR, I can report him for sexual harassment.
I won't, of course. Something like that would label me as troublesome. And, despite the general vibe I'm getting from his direction, he hasn't done or said anything untoward. He's just a worried coworker, checking on my mental health.
I hate that. I'm not one for frivolous complaints, but there should be a divide. Physical contact with other people? Not a fan. I'm more of a wave and smile girl. I cling to Penelope like crusty glue, but that doesn't mean I want other people's skin cells on me.
Revulsion has my skin cringing beneath his hand.
"Don't touch her."
The enraged words come from Scott's doorway.
When did that open?
My heart drops to my feet as an enraged Scott glowers in Mike's direction.
Not one to provoke his boss, or a beta werewolf, Mike immediately yanks his hand off my shoulder like he's been burned.
No one's even pretending not to notice the situation. The amount of heads peeking over cubicle walls dwarfs the crowd Logan gathered by storming into Scott's office, with their mysterious noises penetrating the soundproof barrier.
"Boss, I didn't—"
A growl rips from Scott's throat, and Mike steps back hastily, his self-preservation instinct strong. He doesn't say a word as he turns and retreats to his desk.
Scott's my superior. I can't exactly yell at him for being an overprotective ex in front of his subordinates.
But fuck, the fire raging in my veins right now is screaming for me to do just that. To run up and punch him in that fucking jaw of his again. He doesn't even have a bruise from the last one, which really pisses me off, because I have discoloration all over my knuckles.
Stupid quick-healing abilities.
Logan emerges behind Scott. My eyes dart between them, searching for any sign of the altercation I'd imagined. Not a hair out of place. No rumpled clothes or marks on any knuckles or faces.
Then what the hell were those noises?
Before I can ponder further, Logan's gaze locks onto mine. His eyes look almost golden now, compared to the bright green of earlier.
A trick of the light, maybe?
The intensity in those eyes hits me like a physical force, and I stumble back a step. Gone is the friendly banter and charming demeanor. He looks like he wants to eat me, and not in the fun way.
Logan breaks eye contact abruptly, turning to Scott with a polite nod. They shake hands, the picture of professional courtesy.
How did Logan go from furious over a leaked secret to professional and calm?
And why is he angry with me? What the hell did I do?!
Did Scott try to pin those rumors on me? The thought coils in my gut, a mix of anger and betrayal. It would be just like him to deflect blame, to paint himself as the victim.
"Nicole." Scott's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. "My office. Now."
I swallow the scathing retort that threatens to spill from my lips. Instead, I plaster on a smile so fake it hurts my cheeks.
Professional. Calm. Collected. All the things I'm not feeling as I follow him into his lair.
Lying, cheating bastard. Two-faced weasel. Spineless jellyfish masquerading as a wolf.
The litany of insults continues in my head as I step into Scott's office, the door clicking shut behind me with an ominous finality.
"Sit down," Scott says, gesturing to the chair across from his desk.
I remain standing, arms crossed. "I'd rather not."
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Nicole, please. We need to talk."
"About what? How you've been lying to me? Or how you're trying to blame me for the office gossip?"
Scott's eyes widen. "What? No, that's not—"
"Save it." I cut him off, my patience wearing thin. "What did you tell Logan?"
"Nothing about you," he says, his tone defensive. "We were discussing the security breach."
I arch an eyebrow. "And that required all that growling and snarling?"
A flicker of something—guilt? fear?—passes over Scott's face. Damn it, I want to know what happened in here! "It was a heated discussion. Logan's not exactly known for his calm demeanor."
So, there was some alpha posturing. I'd thrown that out there without knowing for sure, but he confirmed it. Now I really want to know more, but first I need to figure out why I've been dragged in here.
"Right." I don't bother hiding my skepticism. "So, what do you want from me?"
Scott sits on the edge of his desk, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on me. The air in the office is thick with his pheromones filling the air.
They smell like stale cigarettes. And rose water algae.
"Nicole, you need to watch your attitude in the office."
I blink, stunned into momentary silence. My attitude? What the hell is he talking about?
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me." His tone carries that infuriating mix of condescension and authority he reserves for subordinates who've screwed up. "Your behavior today has been unprofessional."
A laugh bubbles up in my throat, but I swallow it down. It would come out bitter and harsh, and I refuse to give him the satisfaction.
"Mr. Bower, can you give me examples of my unprofessional behavior?"
Scott's jaw tightens. "You can't go around flirting with everyone in the office because you're a little upset with me."
The words hit me like a slap. Flirting? With who? Mike?
The thought is so absurd I almost laugh again.
"That's rich, coming from you."
His eyes narrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." I shake my head, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. Woosah, Nicole. Woosah. Achieve inner peace.
A horrifying realization dawns on me as I try to shove away the instinctive anger.
Scott thinks we're still together. After being caught in the act, after treating me like garbage this morning, after our little spat in his office just hours ago… He genuinely believes we're just having a lover's spat.
My eyes snap open, meeting his gaze. "Scott, I need you to listen very carefully."
I speak slowly, enunciating each word with painstaking clarity. "We. Are. Not. Together. Anymore."
He smiles tenderly, the way he always did when he thought I was being a little unreasonable.
At the time, I thought it was sweet that he took my occasional bouts of temper so well. Of course, it had never been directed at him. Always because of some bullshit at work.
Now, that stupid smile on his face is condescending as fuck.
Ignorance was bliss, I guess.
"Nikki bear, I know you're upset—"
"No." I cut him off, my voice low and controlled. Hearing that disgusting nickname only makes everything worse. It takes every ounce of willpower not to scream. "This isn't about being upset. This is about the fact that I kicked you out. Our relationship is over."
Scott's expression softens, and he pushes off the desk, taking a step toward me. "Sweetheart, I know you're hurt. What happened... it wasn't what it looked like. We can work through this. You'll always the be one I come home to. The only one I want."
He reaches for my hands, and I jerk back, almost falling over. A physical barrier between us isn't enough. I want to put an ocean between us, a continent, a whole damn planet.
A new job is starting to sound mighty fine, indeed.
"Don't touch me." The words come out as a hiss. "There is no 'working through this,' Scott. You cheated on me. In our bed. My bed." Of course, I couldn't sleep in it last night. I ended up on the couch, hoping that's never been tainted either. "That's not something you come back from."
"It was a mistake," he pleads, his eyes wide and earnest. "A moment of weakness. It didn't mean anything."
A humorless chuckle escapes me. "Oh, well, that makes it all better then, doesn't it? It didn't mean anything, so I must be overreacting." The sarcasm this time is thick and biting; I can't hold it back. It's taking everything in me to not punch him in his smarmy, smug face.
How did I ever think he had hot-nerd aesthetic? Scott's just a sleaze. Nothing compared to someone like Logan—but I shove those thoughts away as fast as I can. I don't need to be distracted by the mystery of another man.
We're at work. Don't cause a scene. Let it go. He's a delusional mess, but you have the moral high ground.
"Nicole, please." He takes another step forward, and I take one back.
He doesn't get the hint and keeps going, until I'm pressed against the door to his office, unable to move another step.
Resting a hand against the frame above me, he leans in, looking for all the world like a romantic boyfriend about to swoop in for a kiss. "I love you. We can get past this. I'll do whatever it takes to regain your trust."
The sincerity in his voice makes my stomach churn. How dare he stand there, looking at me with those puppy dog eyes, acting like he's the victim?
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