He Signed My Resignation Without Reading It, Now His Wolf Hunts Me novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: The Keys

Odette clears her desk while Imogen publicly takes over her office, Padraig whispers about unread emails, and a stranger in the lobby says she smells like Ashgrove.

On Monday I walked into Colquhoun Gold at eight o'clock, to hand in my keys.

I did not go to work.

I only wanted to leave my badge, my keys and nine years where Alasdair could see them.

The lobby was bright and cold, and the receptionist looked up and then quickly down.

On the Gamma floor, twenty wolves stopped typing.

My glass office had a new nameplate.

It was small and gold, and it said Imogen Slade.

Imogen stood at my desk in a cream cardigan, setting a vase of tulips beside the monitor.

My mug and my grandmother's photo were gone.

"Odette!" She came around the desk with both arms open. "I didn't think you'd come."

"I came for the keys."

"Of course. Here, sit." She pulled out my chair, and I didn't sit. "I hope you don't mind. Alasdair asked me to keep your chair warm until you decide."

"He asked you."

"He asked me to help." She smiled. "I'm only borrowing it. You know I'd never replace you."

Every wolf on the floor was listening.

I could hear the soft stop of their breathing.

"Then why does the door say Imogen Slade?" I asked.

A small silence.

Imogen laughed lightly, pink across her cheeks.

"That's the maintenance team being quick. I'll have them take it down."

"Please do."

"And you look so tired. Let me make you a cup." She lifted a small tin off the shelf, the same tin with the neat handwriting on the label. "Chamomile and a little of the blend."

"No tea," I said.

Her hand stopped on the lid.

It was only a moment.

Then she put the tin back and smiled again.

"Of course. Whatever you need."

I took my keys off my ring one by one.

Office key. Ledger room. The cabinet where Alasdair's contracts lived.

I laid them in a row on the glass desk, with my badge on top.

It was the loudest sound I had ever made in that building.

"Tell Alasdair I returned them," I said.

"He's in the conference room with the Ridge ledgers," Imogen said gently. "He's been in there since seven. He said not to disturb him."

So he was in there, forty steps away, and he knew I was here.

I could feel it in the base of my skull, a pull toward the east wall.

I did not look at the conference room door.

"Then that's that," I said.

Someone caught my elbow in the corridor.

Padraig had come out of the break room and was standing very close, with his sleeves rolled up and his face drawn.

"Odette, wait," he said, low. "Three Packs sent emails Friday. Redbank and two others. They want a joint contract for the gold."

"So answer them."

"The emails never reached Alasdair. I asked his server this morning. They arrived, and they're gone."

"Gone."

"Opened and gone." He swallowed. "I can't tell him that without proof. He'll think I'm making trouble."

"Then bring him the proof."

"I don't know where to look. You're the only one who ever knew where anything was."

I looked at his big, tired face.

I loved Padraig.

It didn't change anything.

"I can't," I said. "I'm sorry. I've got a grandmother and a dentist appointment and my own life to find."

He let go of my arm.

I walked to the elevator without looking at the glass door at the end of the hall.

The lobby doors swung open, and I stopped.

A man was standing in the middle of the marble floor, alone.

He was tall, with russet hair and a pale scar that cut through his left eyebrow, and a leather jacket over a white shirt.

He was not Ironwood.

I'd have known every wolf on our books.

He turned his head, and his nostrils flared.

His whole body went still.

Then he crossed the marble in four long steps and stopped in front of me, close enough that I could smell pine smoke and gun oil.

"Excuse me," he said.

"Can I help you?"

"I think I can help you." His voice was low and a little unsteady. "Say your name."

"No."

He smiled.

It was a surprised smile, and a pleased one, and it didn't reach his eyes, which were bright and wet.

"You smell like Ashgrove," he said.

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