Without a word, he holds his hand out for the suit.
Right. The suit. Snapping back into action, I unzip the bag and hand it over then back away. It’s a crime he has to cover up all that muscular perfection.
I stoop and swipe up the fallen water bottle and the wet clothing he tossed over a chair. “I’ll get this dry cleaned.”
When I straighten, he’s finished buttoning up his shirt. I have a momentary fantasy of stepping forward to tuck it into his pants for him. To feel the hard planes of muscle that lead…south.
Let me get that for you, Mr. Blackthroat.
It’s official. I am losing my mind.
I’m definitely going to be fired.
“I apologize for my clumsiness, sir.”
He ignores my apology. “I still need a water. Unopened this time.” He lifts a brow in my direction.
I guess I’m not fired.
“Yes, sir.” I suck in a sharp breath, launching back into action.
I seriously don’t know how I didn’t just lose my job for the soak-n-grope I just gave my very hot nightmare of a boss.
I’m glad. I really am. And I learn from my mistakes. I don’t know why I’m already imagining it happening again…
* * *
Brick
When I take my seat for the executive meeting, I look for New Girl. Madison Evans. She’s sitting beside Indira in the corner, reviewing a copy of Vance’s report. Her short brown hair falls in a smooth sheet, curtaining her face. She’s ordinary, human. There’s no reason I should keep noticing her. She should fade into the background like furniture. But even now, I can feel her hands on my chest, molding to my muscles. Her usual cool efficiency dissolved, and she stared like she’d never seen a bare chest before.
She’s not afraid of me. I like that. She’s highly alert, but there’s no real fear in her scent. It bloomed stronger when she saw me shirtless, grew richer, more complex. Some Frankincense and spice under the sweet orange. Normally, I tear into employees who crush on me, but the clear attraction on her face when she saw me shirtless was delicious. Even more so when she fought to hide it and act professional.
I wanted to douse her in water and then peel her clothes off to see what’s underneath.
I still do. And that makes me more short-tempered than usual.
“Where are we with Benson?” I bark, once Jake finishes giving us the update on crypto.
“Meeting set for two weeks from now,” Billy says. “After the ball. We couldn’t get it any sooner.”
“We did get Benson Senior and Junior comped tickets to the ball,” Nickel adds, his British accent crisp and manicured. “Another chance to rub elbows with them.”
“And we can send over an improved offer today,” Vance says. “One that might match what Aiden’s proposing.”
“What are they proposing?” I resist the urge to rise and pace. “Do we have any word on that?”
Nickel frowns at the table. “Not yet.”
In the corner, someone clears their throat. Madison. “If I may.” She raises her hand like she’s in class.
I can’t believe she has the nerve to interrupt.
More unbelievable is my fascination with that fact. What is it about this little human that makes her so bold? It’s not ignorance. She’s clearly smart as fuck and totally aware. So it’s confidence. She has alpha in her.
“I might have a lead.” She holds up her tablet. On it, there’s a picture of a black and red Bugatti parked in front of a Las Vegas fountain. “Benson Junior posted this to his socials late last night. Apparently he has a new ride, and reading between the lines, it might have been a gift.” She touches the screen and zooms in on the text before reading it aloud, “
Friends don’t let friends drive less than 1825 hp.”
I stare at Madison. Normally the assistants can’t or don’t bother to follow the actual business side of discussions. They are here to support me and the team with arrangements that can be delegated. To have her actually contributing to the conversation like she’s one of my execs shocks me.
Even more, to have the interruption actually be on point and pertinent. Because I know that car she’s referring to. It’s Aiden parking in front of our building to encroach on our territory.
“May I?” Nickel holds out a hand for the tablet, and Billy plucks it from Madison’s hands and hands it to him.
“Definitely a gift,” Sully puts in. “Benson Junior is a known gambler. I dug up his debts. He doesn’t have the liquidity to buy a million dollar car.”
“A four million dollar car,” Madison corrects. “I saw a similar one parked in front of Moon Co. this morning, and it got me thinking. Someone’s wooing him.”
Another point to New Girl.
“Not someone. Aiden Adalwulf,” I say. Sully and Billy nod. They recognize the car, too. Aiden bought one for himself, right after his father stepped down and Aiden became CEO of Adalwulf Associates.
“Benson Senior keeps Junior on a tight leash,” Vance puts in. “We know that much. He tried to bargain for a permanent position for his son once the takeover is complete, but we nixed that. As far as we can tell, Benson Jr doesn’t do anything but use the company credit card at strip clubs for ‘meetings.’ He’ll just be dead weight.”
“So, what?” Billy asks, “we offer more cash? Enough for Benson Junior to buy all the Bugatti’s he wants?”
“Do it,” I say. “Go woo the son, see how it plays.” I rap the table, signaling an end to the meeting. I rise as Madison passes by. “Good work, Madison.”
She raises her chin and gives me a pleasant smile, once again meeting my gaze. She’s got gorgeous brown eyes, light as a mountain lion’s, shot through with gold. “Madi,” she corrects me, even though I told her I wouldn’t call her that.
I glower at her. How is she meeting my eyes?
I jerk my chin, dismissing her.
She doesn’t budge. “One more thing. Your mother called earlier. Several times, in fact.”
“I don’t take calls from my mother.” When it comes to my mother, my temper’s always on a short leash. “Ever.”
My wolf stirs beneath the surface. He doesn’t usually get reactive to my mother-a flaw of genetics, I’ve always assumed-because the woman is dangerous. But then I realize: it’s not about her. My wolf doesn’t like me snarling at Madison.
Odd.
Madison doesn’t reply, simply tilts her head, waiting for me to expound. Outside the conference room, Indira pretends not to watch our exchange.
I don’t sense resentment or competition from her, though, even though she’s Madison’s superior. The two seem quite loyal to each other.
It’s a trait not often found in humans.
Especially not on Wall Street.
“Get out.”
Madison stands her ground as if it’s no big deal, quietly blowing my mind. “Your sister called, too.”
“Which one?”
“Ruby.”
She probably needs my help with the Blackthroat Foundation charity ball. Eagle said one of the land purchases may fall through. Since New Girl is so clever, I put her on that task. “Get her on the line and then research all available parcels of land that may connect wildlife corridors near the city.”
Madison blinks, quickly absorbing the random order. “Yes, sir. Size requirements?”
I hide my satisfaction at the fact that she doesn’t hassle me with stupid questions. She may be the first assistant I can actually stand.
“Ideally five hundred acres.” Since she’s so astute, I don’t play my usual authoritative games and keep her in the dark about what she’s doing and why. “Ruby’s foundation-our family foundation-offers grants for wilderness conservation projects, and one of her current deals may fall through. Send your findings to Eagle, my executive counsel.”
Madison nods. “Ruby’s husband.”
I raise my brows, surprised that she knows that after working here all of five days.
“I’m on it, sir.” She pivots and sashays past me. I watch her hips sway for longer than I should.
Madi
“So what’s the deal with the Adalwulfs?” I ask Indira, fishing baby corn out of my chow mein. It’s after three p.m., and we’re taking a late lunch while on hold with Benson’s executive team’s assistants, trying to nail down details of the Moon Co./Benson meeting.
“The Adalwulfs?” Indira’s voice drops to a whisper, and she looks around as if we’re kids talking behind the teacher’s back in class. “You mean Adalwulf Associates?”
“Yeah. The family company, if you can call it that.” I wouldn’t call a hedge fund worth billions a “family owned business,” but it is. Most of the board members and C-suite all share the Adalwulf name. Either they’re cloning themselves, or every extended cousin gets a job.
Yay, nepotism. “I overheard Mr. White talking about them to Mr. Cavendish.”
Indira gulps. “They hate Adalwulfs.”
“I get that.” Mr. White-Billy-muttered something about out-bidding the ‘Adal-fucks.’ “The Adalwulfs are behind this bid on Benson. But I get the sense there’s some bad blood.”
“Not just bad.” Indira’s still whispering. “Worse.”
“The worst blood? Now I’ve gotta know.”
She gulps and beckons me to the kitchenette, where she continues to whisper even though we’re the only ones on this floor. Brick is out of his office. “There’s been a rivalry for years. Decades even. The Adalwulfs killed Blackthroat Investments. That was the company-“
“Brick Blackthroat’s dad, Bruce Blackthroat, ran.” I repeat my research. “I know about that. Bruce died unexpectedly, and Brick tried to take over.”
“Yeah, and, uh, it didn’t work out.”
“I read about that.” Brick Blackthroat was only eighteen and untested. “None of the big investors stayed with Blackthroat Investments.”
“Yeah, because Adalwulf Associates poached them. Told them they couldn’t trust someone young and green with their money.”
“Yikes.” So that’s why there’s such a feud.
“Blackthroat Investments doesn’t really exist anymore. They only work with family money.”
I snort. “There’s plenty of that.” But I see how Brick Blackthroat and his buddies would see it as a huge defeat. “So they founded Moon Co. It makes sense now, why they’re so intent on getting one over on their rivals. I’ll see what I can dig up on the Adalwulfs. See if we can get an edge.”
“I should’ve thought of that.” Indira scrubs her face. We return to the phones, which are still playing sad elevator music, designed to be annoying enough to make someone want to end the call after the first five minutes.
“It’s all about power plays, right? We just have to play the game.”
“You fit in here far better than I do,” she tells me with a note of despondency. “I have a degree in finance, not psychology. I like numbers, not people. I am so not into this.”
“Where did you go to school?”
“M.I.T. I was hoping for an analyst position, but the only ones that open up are in administration, and my parents told me it was better to get my foot in the door. I don’t really know.”
“No, it totally is. You should talk to Ms. Uptight in HR and mention that you’re interested in an analyst position if one opens.”
“I told her in my interview, but she ignored me. The trouble with this particular admin position is that the chances of me getting fired in the next six weeks are ninety percent, and then I’ve blown my one shot at working on Wall Street.”
She’s probably right, which makes me preemptively sorry for her.
I toss my takeout container in the trash. “I will do my best to make sure neither of us gets fired. You deserve an analyst position. No more babysitting execs.”
If I put in a good word for her, maybe she can get the job she really wants. Would that get me promoted to be Blackthroat’s direct assistant?
Imagining it gives me a thrill of excitement-for the challenge of the job, only. Not because I want to work more closely with Blackthroat. I’m definitely not imagining helping him change clothes again.
No, working for the boss-holes is torture. There’s no way I should be enjoying it, and if I am? I’m more of a masochist than I thought.
* * *
Brick
After a long day in the office, I have John Acker, my helicopter pilot, take me to the family property out of state. The Berkshires residence is a place where I can let myself off-leash to run. Where I can get the concrete and asphalt out of my cells and smell the bark of trees and the rich smell of earth beneath my feet.
I go every weekend, often accompanied by one or more members of my executive team. At least once a month Ruby, Eagle and the kids will meet me there for some family time. I don’t usually have to go in the middle of the week, but today, I’m on edge. I know the reason why-she’s short, freckled and entirely too sexy in her modest dresses-but I’m not going to think about that.
The Berkshires property has been in my family for a hundred years and has extensive wooded grounds plus every bit of old-world opulence you can think of, including separate servants’ quarters, the helicopter pad, and enough bedrooms to sleep thirty.
“Six-thirty a.m. tomorrow. Don’t be late,” I tell John.
“I’ll be here.” He salutes.
I get out of the helicopter and am met by the yips of pleasure from three blue heelers who race out to the landing pad to greet me. The caretakers of the property, Dane and Liz, are shifters. Old-timers who served my father and have known me and my sisters since we were in diapers. They’re servants, but they’re also family. Pack members I would protect to the death, who would do anything for me.
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