The dogs belong to Dane, but they’re as much mine as his. They recognize me as their alpha.
Keeping dogs isn’t as common for us as it is for humans. Many shifters object to it, I suspect because they don’t like to see parts of themselves reflected in a pet. Those shifters who do keep canines, though, have a tight bond with their pets as they can communicate, lead and guide them in ways humans never could.
I’m not the sort who would keep pets of my own. I don’t need more creatures around me to be responsible for or to care about, but it’s hard not to fully receive the unchecked affection of dogs.
“Hey Bella, hey Fritz. Oh, Bobo, who’s a good boy?” I pet and thump the sides of the ecstatic dogs. “That’s right. Your alpha’s back early this week. Come on. Let’s go in.”
I don’t have a bag, since this trip was unplanned, but I have casual clothes here, and I can change tomorrow morning before I go into Wall Street.
I needed to get out of the city. My wolf behaves himself in the boardroom, but it’s cruel to lock up a wild animal for long. So I come home to run.
But first: business. I fire off a few more emails and check in with Vance’s team, walking the long halls of my ancestral home. My pacing takes me to the library. I stalk the book-lined rows until I reach the heavy oak door that leads to my father’s study.
His books and papers still lie in neat rows, as he left them the night he died. The night he was poisoned. There’s not a speck of dust-Liz won’t allow it-but the air is close and stuffy as an antique shop’s, preserved over the years. Under the scent of furniture polish, there’s a trace of his scent.
Above his desk, my father glares out of his portrait. It’s larger than life, covering most of the wall, but still doesn’t capture the intense presence of Bruce Blackthroat. The artist painted him standing in this room, with one large, weather-worn hand gripping the leather chair. There’s a surly slant to his dark brows, a tension to his jaw that his close clipped beard cannot soften. He looks like he’s going to bark an order in his Alpha voice and send humans scurrying and shifters angling their necks or bending their knees.
Ruby says I’m the spitting image of him. I didn’t think so, but as I stare into his dark eyes, I see it. The weight of power painted into the lines of his face. The knowledge that every decision you make takes your pack, your family, closer to the pinnacle, and the higher you go, the farther you can fall.
My father taught me the most important lesson an alpha can learn. In the shifter world, dominance is everything. It’s more than dog eat dog. We’re wolves. Defeat is death.
When he died, we almost lost everything. I fought tooth and claw for every scrap of success. Fought to keep every investor who said I was too young, and fled into the arms of our enemy. Odin Adalwulf-the Alpha-and his son, Aiden, almost took everything from us. They assaulted our castle and tore down the outer walls, leaving ruin in their wake. They overran Blackthroat Investments and burned it to the ground.
But from those ashes we rose. And now, on the eve of a massive acquisition, we’ve proven ourselves. We’re the biggest and baddest around, and nothing-not the Adalwulfs, not anyone-can take us down.
“We’re almost there,” I tell him. My own voice is so low and guttural, it startles me. My wolf is in my throat, his savagery ringing out of me.
Ruby’s right. I do sound exactly like him.
My phone rings, jarring the settled air of my father’s study. I leave and close the door behind me before checking who’s calling. My wolf wants to toss my phone aside and head out to hunt, but it’s Eagle, and he knows my Berkshire runs are sacred. He wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important.
“I have bad news and good news.” Eagle eschews any greeting.
“Give it to me,” I growl.
“Bad news first: Nickel’s team uncovered more details of the opposing deal.”
I grip the phone tighter. “Is Adalwulf behind it?”
“Confirmed. Aiden met Benson Junior at a party in Cabo.”
“Met? More like ambushed.” It would be no coincidence Aiden Adalwulf would be at the same party as Benson Junior. Aiden can pretend to be a playboy billionaire, but his idea of fun is hunting other shifters for sport.
“Yes. Aiden must have sweet talked Junior there, promising him the moon.”
“Then we promise him the sun and stars. And a Moon Co. stake.”
“Nickel’s already on it.”
“What’s the good news?”
“You’re never going to believe this.” There’s a smile in Eagle’s voice. “There’s a five hundred acre parcel in the Adirondacks. It abuts Adalwulf land, and in two day’s time, it’s coming up for sale.”
“What? How?”
“One of your assistants-the new one? She said you told her to look for land for the Foundation.”
“That’s right.”
“She found a mention on a local message board. The old landowner passed, and her will specified that the land should be preserved as a wildlife sanctuary. Your assistant tracked the heir down and laid the groundwork for him to accept a buyout offer before it gets listed.”
New Girl.
It was wolf instinct that told me to assign her that task. That must be it because this kind of miracle never happens.
“We’ve only had one phone call,” Eagle says, “but the seller is very inclined. Especially for a deal that cashes him out and also fulfills his aunt’s wishes. No one knows, just the seller, your assistant and me. And now you.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way. We’ll do this deal right under the Adalwulf’s noses. Next month, they’ll go hunting and find us camped on their back door.”
“Blackthroat Wildlife Preserve. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? I quite like it.” Eagle sounds like he’s practically rubbing his hands together with glee, no doubt imagining Aiden and his father, Odin’s, faces when they find us marking our territory on the edge of their land.
“Good work,” I tell him.
“Oh it wasn’t me. It was all your assistant’s doing. Try not to fire her for a little while? She’s whip-smart.”
He ends the call.
“She is,” I say to myself, calling to mind my capable young assistant.
I stalk onto the balcony outside my bedroom, staring greedily into the deep woods. The walls of the mansion are closing in. I need to run.
An orange-nutmeg scent hits me so hard, my canines descend. It’s her scent-New Girl’s. Madison-call-me-Madi
-Evans. The smell is so strong, I expect to see her sashaying out of the trees in a tight dress and stilettos, tucking a stray strand of her short hair behind her ear. She’d stop short and wrinkle her freckled nose at me.
Yes, boss?
I scrub my eyes. I’m definitely on edge if I’m starting to hallucinate scents here, in my home, my sanctuary.
Fuck this.
I whirl from the window and strip my clothes so fast, they flutter to the ground in shreds. My joints crack as I drop to all fours in my wolf form. Maybe if I run fast and hard, I can forget the little human’s scent.
Madi
The next morning, I hit the ground running in new shoes with heels taller than the last pair. I’m going to prove I can walk and take dictation in them if it’s the last thing I do. Last night, I stayed late, researching the Adalwulfs. I need to know everything I can to make myself useful to Blackthroat. I met one of the janitors-Jerry-and we had a nice chat, at least until one of the executives threw me out. Apparently we’re not supposed to stay late on the top floor without an executive present, a rule I read in the employee handbook but didn’t believe. On Wall Street, hundred hour work weeks are the norm, right? But it makes sense that they want the executive floor locked down.
The executive who threw me out was Mr. Eagleton, Ruby Blackthroat’s husband and Moon Co.’s corporate counsel.
He was nice enough, especially after I told him about the Adirondack land that was potentially for sale. It was connected to another huge plot of wilderness, so I figured it would work well for a land corridor for wildlife.
When I showed it to Mr. Eagleton, he said, “Incredible. This is a gold mine. That land abuts…Madison, good work.”
So, of course, I had to research what the land abuts. Turns out, the other plot of wilderness is owned by none other than Odin Adalwulf, the patriarch of the Blackthroat family’s enemy.
The feud between families runs deeper than typical business backstabbing. Like Indira said, bad blood.
Makes me want to dig more.
Detective Madi is on the case.
I stop at the drycleaners to pick up Blackthroat’s suit-the one I soaked-and as I leave, my phone buzzes in my hand. My mom sent a text-a picture of my brother Brayden in front of his dorm in an NYU sweatshirt.
He’s so excited, she writes, as if I couldn’t tell from the triumph on his face. “Thank you for helping with his tuition.”
I walk into Moon Co. with a spring in my step. All the long hours are worth it if Brayden can get the same leg up I did.
Before I can tuck my phone away, my screen lights up with a call. Indira. “Vance just announced another emergency executive meeting.”
Of course he did. Because their poor planning becomes our emergency.
“Can you get their coffee orders?” she continues. “I emailed you the list.”
“On it.” I swivel before I reach the security check in and walk against the flow of suits streaming into work. The line at the coffee shop is around the block, so I search for another option. There’s a coffee shop from the same chain across the street, in the building opposite Moon Co. I say a prayer that I won’t have to swipe a badge or pass security to get to it.
The doors sweep open, and I march in, only to stop short. The lobby is cavernous. The architects sacrificed at least five floors of space to this commanding space. It’s empty, silent as a cathedral. A little creepy, seeing as every other building is filled with people rushing to make their morning meetings, but a good sign if I don’t want to wait in a coffee-shop line.
The clip-clop of my high heels echoes for miles. The coffee shop is in its own little cube in the corner and just my luck-it’s dead. Not a single customer. The barista looks startled to see me.
“Hey.” I give him my brightest smile and toss my hair back from my eyes. “I need a bunch of coffees to go.”
I pull up my phone to get to Indira’s list, but there’s no reception. “Sorry, my email isn’t loading. Just a moment.” I check the internet connection and mutter a prayer that it will cooperate.
The door behind me opens, and the hair on the back of my neck prickles. Another customer is here, and I’m holding things up. “I’ll just step outside real quick.”
The barista’s eyes widen, but I catch the warning too late. I turn and slam into a tall man in a dark suit. He must have been right at my back, about to walk into me. I wobble on my heels, and he grabs me, his strong grip biting into my forearms.
Blackthroat’s drycleaned suit flaps between us and falls to the floor.
He’s as big as Brick Blackthroat but doesn’t have the same delicious outdoorsy scent. Not that I’ve noticed Blackthroat’s scent.
“I’m so sorry-“
“Watch it.” The deep voice grates my ears. My head snaps up. I’m about to tell him off for breathing down my neck like a creepy stalker when I meet the coldest pair of blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Twin pits of ice blue, freezing me in my place. A strange silver shimmer flashes over them, and my stomach lurches.
The barista rushes out from behind the counter. “Mr. Adalwulf, I’m so sorry-” He’s choking out an apology like it was his fault.
The man holding me glances at the barista, and the babbling apologies cease.
Mr. Adalwulf.
Oh, crap.
I knew from my research that Adalwulf Associates had a building on the same block as Moon Co., but I hadn’t realized it was this one. I was just thinking about coffee.
I should have paid more attention.
I straighten, on high alert. This could be a cousin, or a distant relation, but my instincts scream that this is the one and only Aiden Adalwulf. From my research, I know he’s younger than Brick, and he looks it-other than the frigid cold in his eyes. His face is magazine-model beautiful but frozen, as if carved from granite. The lack of lines around his eyes or throat makes him look like he’s never laughed or smiled in his life. A living, breathing, handsome shell of a man, totally dead inside. My insides roil.
He looks down at the suit, no doubt registering the stapled receipt bearing Blackthroat’s name. When he looks back up, there’s a touch of surprise-mixed with annoyance or anger? I can’t get an exact read. Like Brick, he has waves of power rolling off him. I want to duck my head and slink away.
“Who are you?” he demands.
“Mr. Adalwulf?” I try to tug away, and his thumbs dig into the flesh below my elbows, making my arms throb. Then he seems to remember himself and releases me.
I offer him my hand, more to put something between us than out of any desire to shake. “Madi Evans.”
His gaze flickers down to my hand and away. He got close enough for me to crash into him, but I guess he’s too busy and important to properly greet me.
There are four big guys behind him, with identical suits and stone-faced expressions. They all look like they would slit my throat if Adalwulf gave the word. Probably bodyguards. One of them peels off and fetches a single cup from the barista.
This has to be Aiden. His father Odin doesn’t come out in public much anymore. Rumor has it, he’s ill.
There’s nothing in my notes about Aiden being hella awkward, but billionaires are allowed to be rude. Their status creates a force field that softens their less-than-pretty personality traits. Aubrey has a working theory that all billionaires are sociopaths. If she ever wanted to write a research paper, Aiden Adalwulf could be her star subject.
“You don’t belong here.” He’s still looking down at me, and the thousand-yard stare scrambles my wires. It’s like looking down the sight of a rifle. No one breathes a word when he raises a big hand and captures a wayward strand of my hair between a thumb and forefinger. He brushes my cheek when he does it, and I stiffen. Every cell in my body screams for me to get away from him.
He leans down like a Victorian gentleman bending over a woman’s hand. Is he…sniffing me?
“Excuse me,” I snap and pull away, but not before he tucks the strand of hair back, touching my neck as he does so. He sweeps away without another word, leaving me hot and cold and shaking with embarrassment and rage.
Aiden fucking Adalwulf.
I just met the enemy of the Big Bad Boss. And he just made an enemy of me.
* * *
Brick
There’s an enemy in the building. I scent an Adalwulf as soon as the elevator doors open. I should know the scent. My mother is one. But the only person who steps onto the floor is New Girl.
Madison.
She’s juggling my dry cleaning and two trays of coffees. My wolf is already on his feet, ready to tear apart the enemy, but Madison is alone. So why does she carry Aiden Adalwulf’s stench?
I track her progress to the conference room. She hands one of the coffee carriers to Indira and stops to hang my suit up on the closet. Indira holds the door open, and the two of them start handing out the fancy-ass coffees Nickel and Jake have a taste for. Even though she’s the assistant’s assistant, Madison takes the lead, directing Indira with whispers. Her cheeks are flushed red, and there’s some pepper in her scent like someone made her angry.
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