“That good?”
“You’ve no idea—”
Mum called. “Leanne!”
“Looks like tea’s ready.” Beth sighed. “We’ll talk later.”
“As soon as mum’s out of the way,” Leanne promised. She would mention nothing about Rex being a shapeshifter; but for once was going to enjoy being the one giving out juicy details of a sexual encounter.
Her mother had found that long-forgotten teapot, and it sat on the table in the living room, cups and a plate of cookies neatly arranged next to it as if for a little tea party. Leanne slumped back in the sofa with Beth, while mum perched on the end of the chair brought in from the kitchen, back straight. “We will have tea and then I guess you should get some rest, dear.” Yes, please. “I will see if I can get through to Dave. We always had a good relationship.” Why couldn’t mum give it a rest? Leanne might be approaching thirty, but her mother still acted as if she knew what was best. Too much of a wuss to voice her feelings about mum’s efforts to take over, she frowned instead. “Do not look at me like that, dear. This is a misunderstanding that needs sorting out.”
Stay out of my business, mum. “Please … I can’t deal with this right now.”
Her mother sat up even straighter. “Well, you will have to at some point. You cannot let a fine man like Dave get away.”
“You still reckon he’s a fine man, after what he did today?” Beth was livid. “Dumped Leanne on their fucking wedding day?”
“No need for that kind of language, Beth. You are enough of a bad influence as it is.” Mum sighed, shaking her head. “I am sorry. I did not mean that. We are all stressed here.” She did mean it but hey, an acknowledgment she was out of order was something. She released another deep sigh. “Leanne, why don’t you call Dave? Try to sort things out.”
“If he wants to talk he knows how to get hold of me.” Chase that asshole? No way.
Mum’s mobile rang. As she answered it, she was muttering about modern generations. “Yes, Valerie dear,” she spoke into the phone. “It looks as if the marriage is off. For now. While I remember, please could you remind William to speak to the hotel regarding this evening’s reception, inform the manager about what has happened …” Damn, which reminded her, she needed to talk to the insurance company this evening about the honeymoon package she had paid for, along with other wedding services, through her credit cards. Dave had arranged to pay her back for half the outstanding costs later, but after today who knew whether the stingy bastard would. “But she has never been responsible, has she? Dave was the one good influence ...”
“Sorry about mum,” Leanne said. She had no choice but to put up with her, but why should her friends?
“No worries.” Beth grinned. “To be honest, I’d be more concerned if she thought I was a positive influence.” Lowering her voice to a whisper, “What about this fit chauffeur? Are you seeing him again?”
“It’s complicated.”
And perhaps for the best. After spending the last six years in a relationship, she should be looking forward to enjoying the single life. When the time was right, there would be other men.
But will there be anyone like Rex?
CHAPTER FOUR
* * *
LEANNE CHOSE PLAIN BLACK TROUSERS and a white blouse to wear on her first day back to work—she had enough to worry about without bringing the stress of a coordinated outfit into the bargain. The past week really had been something; what with mum’s dramas, arguments with the insurance company—which referred to the small print about one of the main parties backing out—and useless attempts to make sense of her messed up finances. As she struggled to figure out how it had all gone so terribly wrong, nights out with friends were the only relief.
Yesterday should have been the day Dave and she returned from the honeymoon. She had taken this morning off in addition to the week’s leave, expecting they would enjoy a leisurely breakfast together. They had also planned to visit the clinic to discuss the removal of her contraceptive implant, so they could look at starting a family—yet another appointment canceled. The bastard had not even been in touch since dumping her. She brushed her hair, pissed off as she tied it into a ponytail. She could contact him to ask if he would cough up any of his share of the outstanding wedding costs, before she paid out interest on those astronomical credit card bills.
But she was not ready to talk to the asshole yet.
Laptop bag in hand, she left the building and walked quickly, soon reaching the underground station. A call came through on her mobile from Beth as she waited for the train.
“Off to work?”
“Yep,” she replied, “Not looking forward to it, but best to get it over and done with.”
“Good luck, babe. And I’m here whenever you want to talk.” She did not need reminding that she could always count on her friend. “How’s Margaret now?”
“She called again last night … still in a bit of a state.” Mum had been demanding to know what she did to scare Dave off, even crying down the phone. The way she was carrying on, you would think he had ditched mum, not her. “My train’s here, Beth. Call you later, babe.”
As usual, the train was crowded. And where did she end up? Under some tall geezer’s smelly armpit. How much longer would she have to endure this crappy journey? If she saved with the same obsession as for the wedding, she might afford a car in a few months; but had to move first, what with no parking facilities at the apartment building. The last six years had been about Dave, and suddenly she was figuring out how to do it alone. The bloody uncertainty about the future was too much to handle sometimes.
Just two more stations before she went and faced her colleagues. If she had invited at least one of them to the wedding, all her co-workers would have already known about what happened. But Dave insisted on keeping the guests to a minimum to save on catering costs, which meant she would personally have to give the low-down on being dumped. King’s Cross station arrived before she had figured out what to say. Pushing her way through the packed bodies on the train, she got off onto the busy platform. She stopped to grab a takeaway coffee from Foodies, her favorite cafe in the area, before walking up the crowded street, coming to a stop outside the tall building where she worked.
She glanced at a man who towered over the crowd, a corporate type in a two-piece suit, and looked again. Did his eyes glow? But no, he appeared normal, walking past her. Perhaps she should have taken another couple of days off. Entering the building, she rushed into the lift before she talked herself out of facing the office. When she reached the third floor, she did not even pause outside the glass doors, walking through them to enter the large open-plan office, with its desks arranged in sections of four. A low cross partition, fixed in the middle of each section, provided the user of each desk with some privacy. Just a little, mind you. Alongside the open-plan area were smaller offices, with frosted glass walls and doors; two of them empty and the rest occupied by senior managers. Most of her colleagues had their heads bent over laptops and she hurried past without saying hello. Placing the coffee on her desk, she pulled her laptop out; if she looked busy enough, perhaps nobody would bother her. Shit! Bill, who took first place for spreading office gossip, was coming straight at her. She wanted to pretend she had not seen him, a bit difficult when he paused next to her, beaming from ear to ear as if hoping to win an award for smile of the year. “Congratulations, Mrs. Henderson,” he said, just as Pam, officially the office bombshell, walked by.
Colleagues at the desks closest to hers looked up, as if Bill’s words had reminded them of the reason she had been away from her desk for the past week. “Erm, congratulations,” mumbled Peter, the graphic designer who sat at the next desk.
Pam, all silken blond hair and toned bod, paused and reversed, pouting down at Leanne. “Oooh, congratulations.” Today she wore a tiny black skirt and a yellow blouse with a plunging neckline, with bright heels to match—as usual pushing the boundaries of the company’s relaxed dress code.
“Look forward to the pics.” As she walked away, deliberately emphasizing the sway of her hips, Bill’s eyes were glued to her backside. It was bad enough being dumped, without being surrounded by walking reminders of her own shortcomings in the looks department.
Bill now nudged her as if she was a close friend with a dirty secret to share. The guy was in his early twenties but you would never guess it, considering his antics and that boyish face. A white short-sleeve shirt and tie would have smartened anyone else up, but gave him a schoolboy appearance. “So how did the big day go?”
“It didn’t.” She deliberately raised her voice. “I’m still Leanne McCarthy.” Might as well tell all thirty or so of her co-workers at once. Pam halted at her words, nearly tumbling over those designer heels. “The wedding was canceled, guys. He backed out and end of story.” A hush fell over the office. It was done, and hopefully she would never have to do anything like this again. “So here I am,” she said to Bill, voice at a normal volume again. “A week’s leave down”—broke—“and officially single.”
For once he had nothing to say, tut-tutting as he wandered off. Whispers spread, starting at one end of the office and traveling. Guess who would be the subject of lunchtime gossip over the next few days? She ignored them, opening her inbox. As expected, full. Great, now some colleagues were throwing sympathetic glances in her direction. She would keep her head down and get through it. God, this better not go on for too long.
She clicked on an email from her boss Alan, informing her that an officer from the security service visited him last week, wanting to talk about the shapeshifter stories. All she needed right now. The officer had asked for access to their sources—he could whistle for that information—and requested they back off from reporting about shifters, as they were on the verge of creating a public panic. Public panic her ass. The stories were very popular—with latest reports suggesting the eyes of the creatures glowed in different colors according to the species—but were not taken seriously by most people, forget any chance of a panic. So why was the security service concerned?
Alan should be in his office right now, so she grabbed her office mobile from its storage unit on the desk and called his number.
“Sorry to hear about the wedding, Leanne.” Wow, that traveled fast. “You’ve seen the email about the guy from the security service?” Not the type to waste time on forced sympathy.
“Yes. That’s why I’m calling. About the sources? I cannot, erm, give those up. I hope you understand …” That network of sources was the reason behind the success of the campaign.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, “I wouldn’t allow you to hand such information over. I referred the officer to the crazy witnesses mentioned in the articles, so that’s dealt with.”
Thank God for that. “Any idea why they want us to call off the stories?”
“In the public’s interest, apparently.” So what was it? The security service was on to something? “Just a request on his part. No legal restrictions, so carry on as you have been.”
Did the authorities have information on the shapeshifters? “I’ve been thinking,” she said, “Perhaps there is too much about shifters on the site? Maybe we should investigate fresh subjects?”
“But the stories are popular. And you’ve spent a lot of time on them.”
Even if the security service suspected something, it could not reach the shapeshifters—could it? Either way, best to avoid putting out material that might remind the authorities of the subject. “But don’t you think they’re getting repetitive? I mean, there is so much other stuff worth exploring.”
“But will other subjects attract as many clicks?”
She had things other than clicks on her mind. “How about this? I’ll put out articles on different subjects and look at how they are rated. Our readers must be bored with the same stories”—she knew very well they were not—“and would surely appreciate a bit of variety.”
A pause. “It’s your call,” he said. “You can give it a go and see how you get on. But I want the clicks and engagement.”
She would work her ass off to get him the clicks and engagement. “I’ll work on fresh ideas straight away.”
She returned the mobile to its storage unit. Phew! A busy couple of weeks ahead, but she would do whatever it took to divert attention from shapeshifters. And Rex.
GOD, THE EMAILS WENT ON but she read every single one, desperate for anything to give the shapeshifter subject competition. Another sighting of the Loch Ness Monster but no new angle, so that proposal went straight into the trash folder. Next, a woman in North England possessed by a djinn, a supernatural spirit from Islamic theology. Now that was different. The more she read, the more convinced she became. This might work! She replied to the writer, requesting an article and reminding her that the pay was even better for high quality images, before clicking through the rest of the emails. There would be another proposal related to shapeshifters, wouldn’t there? She deleted it and carried on.
What the hell? Diane, a fellow editor, had forwarded her own emails, asking Leanne to respond on her behalf as she was too busy. Seriously, ever since the shapeshifter reports became popular, that woman could not hide her bloody jealousy. The number of times she mentioned that the articles were getting repetitive, claiming Leanne needed sources other than those obsessed with shapeshifting beasts. And after all that, she only went behind Leanne’s back and spoke to Alan, saying she wanted to take over the campaign. Just as well the shifter stories were already so popular he insisted on Leanne continuing with them.
She waved at Bill, sat at his desk in the next section. “Where’s Diane?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Still at lunch.”
Her first day back and that bitch was already palming her work off on her. She should have refused the first time Diane asked, instead of being desperate for people to like her when she joined the company. Life was so unfair. She worked harder than anyone in the office but was passed over for a pay rise a few months ago. And she was the best fit for the post of senior editor, a management position Alan was still looking to fill—if she was not such a soft touch, she would have been offered the job by now. As things stood, that promotion would probably end up going to Bill or Diane, whether or not they deserved it.
Enough of being such a bloody pushover! She would talk to Diane as soon as she got in. Speak of the devil—there she was, sauntering into the office, cool as a cat despite being late back from lunch. She picked up a file from her desk and came over, her ankle-length black dress showing off a long willowy figure. Her black hair was cut into a sharp bob, a style few could carry off, green eyes outlined with dark eyeliner. How the hell did she look so good in whatever she wore?
She dropped the file on Leanne’s desk. “Mind processing these for me?” Seriously? “I’ve got to shoot off again. An emergency.” And with that, she turned to walk away.
That woman and her fucking emergencies. So now she not only had her own backlog of work but also Diane’s emails to respond to, and her notes to sort out. She opened the file, scowling at the first page of Diane’s messy handwriting. This miserable business with Dave had taught her one thing; she had to get her bloody act together and stop being such a doormat. “Diane?” she called out before she could sit at her desk. “A quick word?” Diane came back over, her eyebrows raised. “I’ve my own backlog to clear. I’m really sorry, but—”
Her colleague rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me … more shifters?”
If she did not take the piss with her workload, Leanne would have investigated the more promising shifter leads by now, maybe even arranged video footage. Probably just as well Diane was such a lazy cow. “Í’m putting those stories on hold.”
Diane’s expression was disbelieving. “But I thought they’re popular? And you might make editor of the year because of them?”
Sarcastic cow. “I’ve other stuff to investigate.” She handed the file back. “So I’m sorry, but—”
Di
ane shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I guess if you’ve other things to do ...”
Leanne scowled at her back. The way she passed work to her, you would think Diane was her boss, not Alan. She allowed herself a daydream in which she was the senior editor. The amount of coffee she would get Diane to make for her … In the meantime, a virtual pat on the back for taking a small stand against her colleague. And blueberry cheesecake at Foodies after work … the sound of a ping brought her back to reality. Not another email? She opened the article from Harry, a young writer fresh out of university and behind several of the shapeshifter stories on the site. He might be keen and hard-working, but had much to learn in terms of actual writing skills and his approach to clients. If not for the fact he was very resourceful and had somehow built an impressive network, it would have been difficult to put up with the time she spent editing his submissions. How the hell did someone like him manage to connect to such high-level sources of information?
She was the first editor, possibly the only one, to pay Harry a good rate for his work—making her the initial port of call whenever he had a new piece to sell. The article he had just sent was about reported sightings of animals not usually found in England. Zoos had been raided, records checked, but the mystery remained just that. But wait, he had a source who worked inside the security service. This particular mystery was being linked to the increasing number of people claiming to have seen shapeshifters? If true, then she had more important issues than Diane to worry about.
Like what a fucking mess her life had ended up.
REX HAD BEEN RUNNING THE FOREST for days but could not get her out of his mind. What the fuck had happened to him? He released his wolf regularly, allowing it to roam free, but the anxiety became stronger with each passing day. Each time he shifted back to human form, the memory of her laughter and soft skin tortured him, driving his beast wild. His younger brother Tyr had sent more than a few pissed messages over the past few days, until he switched off his phone. He was neglecting the family business, an investment firm set up by their late father, but could not focus on work at the moment. No way.
The Wolf's Bride (Shifters Unleashed Book 1) Page 4