Page 27 of Cursed Love

I chuckle, leaning against the doorframe as I cross my arms over my chest. “You’re welcome to go in there and tell her no,”I say, arching an eyebrow at him. “Look her in the eyes and explain why she can’t come.”

Hunter’s jaw works, his teeth grinding together as he mutters something under his breath. Before he can respond, though, the sound of soft footsteps pulls our attention.

Koa steps into the room, dressed in a snug orange sweater that clings to her curves and a pair of tight jeans that show off every inch of her. She looks like sin wrapped in autumn, and for a second, all I can do is stare. She glances between us, her eyes narrowing when she catches Hunter’s open mouth.

“Well?” she asks, her hands on her hips. “Am I coming or not?”

Hunter’s lips press into a thin line, his gaze darting to me and then back to her. Finally, he sighs, throwing up his hands. “Yeah, fine,” he grumbles. “You can come.”

From behind us, Amel’s laugh echoes through the room, “They’re not lying when they say having an Omega adds an entirely different dynamic to the pack.”

At the first sign of her heat and any discomfort, I’m dragging her right back here. But Amel doesn’t seem worried so I’ll trust that she’ll be safe with us at her side.

I regret letting Koa come with us because the moment we stepped into the building, Amel swiped her into his office so that we could focus. But that’s the last thing I’m doing.

Having Koa on my cock this morning has left a part of me buzzing, distracted, primal. My beast doesn’t want to be here, sifting through files and data. It wants her. Wants her warmth, her scent, her fucking everything. But I shove it down, grit my teeth, and focus. There’s work to do, and Hunter’s halfway across the room, pacing like a caged animal while tapping away at his tablet.

Our desks face each other, papers and files scattered everywhere as we try to piece together the mess Paula left behind. I’ve been digging through records for the last hour, going back a few years, looking for anything that might connect her to Teplone Industries. So far, it’s been a lot of nothing—just basic searches, harmless entries that don’t look like anything more than day-to-day tasks. But something feels off and I can’t shake it.

“Hunter,” I call out, waving him over. He crosses the room in a few long strides, his eyes narrowing as he leans over my desk. “Look at this,” I say, pointing to a log of Paula’s hours. “She worked late a lot. A hell of a lot. And these searches—at first glance, they’re harmless. Client information, payment histories, nothing major. But look at the dates. The pattern.”

Hunter tilts his head, his gaze sharpening as he studies the screen. “She was pulling harmless info first,” he mutters, “but it escalates. She started digging deeper.”

“Exactly,” I say, flipping through more entries. “Look here. It starts with client names and invoices, then moves into contracts and system schematics. She was siphoning information, slow enough that it wouldn’t set off any alarms.”

Hunter’s finger taps against the screen, stopping on a particular name in the client list. “Wait a second,” he says, his tone shifting. “This client. They backed out of working with us a while ago.”

I frown, scrolling through the details. “You sure?”

“Positive,” Hunter says, his jaw tightening. “They pulled out at the last minute, right when we were about to finalize their security upgrades. It was a big account too. We never figured out why.”

I lean back in my chair, the pieces clicking into place in my mind. “So, who the hell are they working with now?”

Hunter’s lips curl into a grim smile, his eyes dark with something dangerous. “Guess we’re about to find out.”

It’s subtle, but there’s a trail here—a thread that ties Paula to Teplone and whoever else she’s been feeding information to. We just have to keep pulling. And if we find out this other company has been poaching our clients, using our stolen data?

Well, let’s just say they’re about to regret ever crossing the St. Clairs.

Koa

I’m trying to focus, I really am, but it’s harder than I thought. The files in front of me are neat, orderly, just waiting to be sorted into the proper cabinets. Amel asked me to help out and I couldn’t exactly say no—not with the way his voice dipped low, soft and sweet, when he asked if I wanted something to do. But the problem is, the more I try to focus, the more distracted I get.

The names on these files. Gods. They’re massive. High-profile, the kind of clients you only see in magazines or on TV. Politicians, celebrities, business moguls—people who couldmake or break nations with a phone call. I had no idea Nexora was this big.

I flip through another folder, pretending I’m not nosy as hell even though my fingers itch to open every single one and find out who they are, what they’re doing. But I know better. It’s none of my business and I’m not about to make it mine.

Amel, on the other hand, isn’t helping my focus. He’s sitting at his desk, stealing glances at me like he thinks I don’t see. My entire body is flush with heat, some steps more uncomfortable than others. Gods, it’s going to happen soon. A day, maybe two at most, before my body gives in completely. I can feel it simmering under my skin, making everything too warm, too sensitive. It’s embarrassing as fuck, especially after this afternoon. I can’t even think about it without my face burning.

Dragging Moses into a kiss before he left the car? Humiliating. And then doing the same thing to Hunter? Even worse. The worst part is, they didn’t complain. Not even a little. Moses’ hand cupped my cheek so gently I thought I’d shatter and Hunter’s growl when I pressed my lips to his? It’s like I lit a match and threw it straight into his beast.

And Amel had the audacity tojokeabout it. “We’re not going far,” he said with that infuriatingly calm smirk, like he knew exactly how much that wasn’t true. Right now, upstairs feels like a different universe. Too far. Way too far.

I glance at the door, my fingers stilling on the stack of files. I don’t know what I’m searching for, but I feel this gnawing pull, like something’s missing. Or maybe it’s someone. It’s stupid. I know they’re here, somewhere in this building, but it’s not enough. I want to feel them. See them. Hear their voices, even if it’s just for a second.

Amel’s voice cuts through my thoughts, soft and smooth. “You doing okay over there, sweet girl?”

I look up, catching the knowing glint in his eyes, my stomach doing little flips. He knows exactly what’s on my mind and I hate that I can’t hide it. “Fine,” I mutter, biting my lip as I glance back at the files. “Just... organizing.”

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