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I scoff out loud. That was rude. But maybe she’s right. Who am I kidding? She’s totally right. I even cowered in his office right up until all the self-defense training I did with Austin kicked in.
And speaking of alpha assholes. He’s another one I don’t stand up to. I literally let him bully me for something I have no control over. It’s not my fault that we’re scent matches. I’ve been keeping it a secret.
Quinn
Don’t come at me with your logic and tough love.
Daria
I think you text me because you want permission to get angry.
Quinn
*eye roll emoji*
Daria
Love you too.
Quinn
Ugh. I love you too.
Switching out of the app, I search for the number to the Mosley & Adams firm and hit call before I psych myself out. It rings three times before the receptionist answers.
“Oh, hello,” I say in a high-pitched voice. “I was hoping to speak with Mr. Mosley.”
“He’s in a meeting, but I can send you to his voicemail if you like,” the receptionist offers.
“That would be great, dear, thank you.”
The call transfers, and I bite back a growl as Mr. Mosley’s voicemail greeting plays, his nasally voice grating against my nerves. He’s such a pompous asshole. I can’t believe he’s spread that ridiculous lie as far as he has. He’s going to ruin my life.
The phone beeps, prompting me to leave a message. “Hi, Mr. Mosley. This is Quinn. If you could stop telling people the lieyou made up to fire me, that’d be great.” I hang up and toss my phone onto the counter, fuming.
A message from Daria lights up the screen, but I leave it and get changed for a run. I’m not good or fast, but I need to get out of my head.
Twenty
QUINN
Forty minutes later, I huff my way back to the beachside mansion. My lungs ache and my muscles are twitching. On the plus side, I realized that Mr. Mosley doesn’t control the world. His connections extend to the CPA world. There are plenty of businesses that might hire a bookkeeping intern.
Plus, the dean gave me the rest of the summer semester to find a replacement internship. So long as I actually get a job, I’ll still be able to graduate. I don’t enjoy the thought of telling my mom and stepdads what happened. At least if I take care of things, they’ll see that I can handle my business.
I’m two houses away from the mansion when I notice a car I don’t recognize parked outside the open gate. Pausing, I glance around and check for signs of life, but people in this neighborhood don’t hang out in their front yards. I frown and keep walking. Maybe it’s someone the guys know.
Maybe it’s an omega.
Nope. I won’t let those paranoid, jealous thoughts win.
I block out all the made-up scenarios of my alphas with some hussy and head up the driveway. Movement catches the corner of my eye, and I turn, catching Mr. Mosley coming around thecorner of the house and trying to peer through the windows. My heart jumps into my throat.
What in the Peeping Tom fuck is he doing? How did he get past the gate? Then I realize I didn’t close it. I left it open. But that still doesn’t explain why he’s here or how he knew the address—dammit. My HR paperwork. If he’s as creepy as he seems right now, snooping into the windows of the mansion, he might’ve gone to my apartment. He would have seen the eviction notice...and then he might’ve guessed I’d end up at my mom’s house. She was my emergency contact.
How do I get him to leave?
Before I can say anything, his gaze finds mine and he straightens. “Quinn, I got your message.”
