Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Leo
Hey, fancy playing detective today?
Penny
Leo Sterling-Hart, are you propositioning me on our day off?
Leo
Sort of. I want to interview the mayoral candidates about the vandalism. Care to join?
Penny
You bet! When and where?
Leo
Adelaide’s HQ. Half an hour work for you?
Penny
Perfect!
In its former life, the Millcrest Historical Society building served as the Millcrest Postal Office.
The grand arched windows and ornate copper-domed clock tower spoke of an era when civic buildings were designed to inspire awe.
Adelaide Fairfax’s smiling face beamed from every windowpane, framed by slogans promising to “Preserve Small-town Americana” and “Keep Millcrest Historical District’s Heritage Alive.
” The bold red, white, and blue color scheme popped against the building’s weathered brick facade, drawing the eye of every passerby.
I couldn’t help but admire her marketing team’s clever use of vintage-style typography that perfectly matched the historical aesthetic of the district.
Penny bounced on his heels beside me, pink hair catching the morning sun.
“Ready for this?” I asked, squaring my shoulders.
Penny grinned. “Born ready, darling.”
We pushed through the heavy oak doors into a scene of controlled chaos. Volunteers scurried about, phones rang incessantly, and the air thrummed with tension. My omega instincts prickled, sensing the underlying current of anxiety.
A harried-looking beta approached us. “Can I help you?”
“We’re here to see Councilwoman Fairfax,” I said, straightening my posture. “Leo Sterling-Hart and Penny Lee.”
The beta’s eyes widened in recognition. “Oh, from Cobblers’ Corner and Vintage Vogue! Of course, follow me.”
She led us through the bustling main room to a quieter back office. Adelaide sat behind a massive oak desk, her silver hair gleaming under the warm lamplight. She looked up as we entered, her bright green eyes sharp behind vintage cat-eye glasses.
“Mr. Sterling-Hart, Mr. Lee,” she greeted us, her voice clipped. “What can I do for you?”
I pulled out my phone and swiped to one of the photos I’d taken of the defaced campaign posters. I stepped forward, turning the phone towards her. I watched as her green eyes narrowed behind those distinctive cat-eye glasses.
“We hoped you might have some insight,” I said.
Adelaide leaned forward, her silver bob catching the warm lamplight as she studied the image on my phone. The delicate brooch on her lapel—a miniature replica of our town’s iconic clock tower—glinted as she moved. I held my breath, waiting for her reaction.
“Yes, I’m well aware of that incident.” Adelaide’s lips thinned. “I’m not sure what insight I could offer that the police don’t already have.”
Penny piped up, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “We noticed some... disruption outside. Has your office been targeted as well?”
A flicker of something—fear? Anger?—crossed Adelaide’s face. “It’s nothing to concern yourselves with. Just some overenthusiastic opposition supporters, I’m sure.”
I shared a glance with Penny. This wasn’t going to be easy. Time for a different approach.
“Councilwoman,” I said, reaching into my pocket. “I received this two months ago, the night my shop was vandalized.”
I hesitated, my fingers lingering over the smooth surface of my phone.
Sharing this felt like peeling back a layer of armor.
Before I could think twice about it, I quickly swiped to the offending image and held my phone out toward Adelaide so she could see the note with its jagged red letters stark against the white paper.
Adelaide’s eyes widened, her composure cracking for a moment.
I watched her reaction and knew I’d made the right call.
“Where did you get that?” she whispered, fingers hovering over my phone as if she wanted to grab it. I tracked her hand as it drifted back to her desk.
“It was tied to a brick that someone hurled through my shop’s window two months ago,” I replied, watching her closely. “The same night the corruption scandal broke.”
Adelaide slumped back in her chair, suddenly looking every one of her fifty-eight years. “I hoped it was an isolated incident,” she murmured.
“You’ve received similar threats?” Penny asked gently.
She nodded, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a small stack of papers. “They started about a month ago. At first, I thought it was just campaign intimidation tactics, but...”
I leaned forward, scanning the notes. The handwriting matched the one I’d received. “Do you have any idea who might be behind this?”
Adelaide’s gaze sharpened. “Not concretely, but I have my suspicions. This trouble started right around the time Blake Harrington announced his candidacy.”
Penny and I exchanged glances. “You think Harrington’s involved?” I asked.
“I can’t prove anything,” Adelaide said, her voice low. “But his sudden interest in Millcrest politics... it’s convenient timing, don’t you think?”
“His relatives once owned land around here, didn’t they? Maybe Blake just wants to get involved in local government?” Penny said, tapping his chin. “Not everyone has hidden motives.”
“Blake’s a developer, not a politician,” Adelaide said. “He showed zero interest in running this city until the corruption story hit the papers. And let’s not forget—this newfound civic duty appeared right after several property owners refused to sell to him.”
I watched Penny consider this information. His expression shifted from skepticism to understanding. The timing did seem suspicious.
I extended my hand to Adelaide. “Thank you for your time, Councilwoman. This has been incredibly helpful.”
Before Penny and I could make our exit, Adelaide reached into her desk drawer. “Oh, before you go,” she said, pulling out a handful of glossy pins emblazoned with her campaign slogan. She pressed them into our hands with a wink. “I trust I can count on your support come election day?”
I caught Penny’s eye and we both grinned politely, playing along with Adelaide’s campaign pitch. We pocketed the pins as we slipped out of her office and into the bustling hallway beyond.
“Well, that was illuminating,” Penny said as we stepped out into the sunlight. “What do you think?”
I frowned, mulling over Adelaide’s words. “I think we need to pay Mr. Harrington a visit.”
The gleaming glass tower of Harrington Development Corporation pierced the sky, a stark monolith that seemed to mock the charming brick and wood facades of our Historical District. As Penny and I ascended in the elevator, my palms grew clammy against the cool metal railing.
Could Blake Harrington be involved? His reputation for crushing small businesses, the recent vandalism, the aggressive push to buy out shops in our district—the pieces clicked into place, yet something still seemed out of alignment.
My fingers traced one of the campaign pins in my pocket, its metal edge sharp against my skin.
A nagging question wormed its way into my mind: where exactly did Dominic belong in this puzzle?
The gentle ‘ding’ of the elevator reaching its destination startled me from my thoughts. The doors slid open to reveal a sleek, modern office space. A receptionist greeted us with a practiced smile. “Can I help you?”
I cleared my throat and stepped forward, mustering every ounce of confidence I could. “We’re here to see Mr. Harrington. Leo Sterling-Hart and Penny Lee.”
The receptionist’s perfectly manicured eyebrow arched. “Do you have an appointment?”
“Not exactly, but—”
The only reason I’d gotten through at Vertex was because Dominic had spotted me. I supposed I needed to start scheduling ahead—though that would ruin my strategy of catching people off guard.
Penny cut in, his voice dripping with charm. “We’re from the Historical District Preservation Committee. It’s urgent we speak with Mr. Harrington about his upcoming project.”
I shot Penny a look, both impressed and slightly terrified by his quick thinking. The receptionist’s fingers hovered over her keyboard, uncertainty flickering across her face.
“One moment, please.” She picked up her phone, murmuring quietly.
My heart raced as we waited. I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants, praying our bluff would work.
After what felt like an eternity, she hung up and nodded. “Mr. Harrington will see you. Fifth door on the right.”
We managed to keep our composure until we were out of earshot.
“Historical District Preservation Committee?” I whispered.
Penny winked. “Amazing what a little creative truth-telling can do.”
I shook my head, torn between admiration and anxiety as we approached Harrington’s office. This was it. No turning back now.
We opened the door to find ourselves in a spacious corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of Downtown Millcrest. The sharp, contemporary aesthetic of Harrington’s office immediately reminded me of Dominic’s workspace at Vertex.
My stomach twisted with a mix of emotions at the thought.
Blake Harrington rose from behind an imposing desk, his smile dazzling. His dark brown hair was perfectly coiffed, not a strand out of place, and his tailored navy suit hugged his athletic frame in a way that screamed both wealth and power.
“Welcome!” he said, his voice warm and rich. He exuded an aura of easy confidence, his pheromones filling the room with a potent blend of sandalwood and amber, undeniably alpha in nature. “What can I do for Millcrest’s finest today?”
While objectively pleasant, Blake’s scent lacked the complexity that drew me to Dominic’s distinctive blend of pheromones.
I found myself unconsciously leaning away, my omega instincts oddly unresponsive to what should have been an appealing fragrance.
The proximity to another alpha’s pheromones stirred an unexpected longing in me.
My omega craved the unique, enticing fragrance that belonged only to my alpha.