My new temporary office is quiet. The only sound is my typing. The phone blares, making me jump in my seat. I grab it, hoping it’s Brick.
It’s not. It’s Billy, ordering me to send over a report. “ASAP. Mr. Blackthroat’s orders.” He sounds smug. Does he know what’s going on? I bite back my snarl. “It’s on its way.” I’d already compiled it the way Brick likes. Billy doesn’t give me the satisfaction of surprise at my speed and efficiency. He just hangs up.
Aubrey’s idea of a tell-all memoir is sounding more appealing by the second.
I open a document to start compiling a timeline of all Brick’s HR violations then delete it.
This isn’t me. I’m discreet. I don’t want to drag Blackthroat’s name through the mud. I don’t want a lawsuit or a payoff.
I want Brick to come back and tell me why he left so abruptly. And in the meantime, I want to do my job.
At ten, I take a break for coffee. I’m in line at the shop when my work cell rings. The number reads BLOCKED. Weird. I don’t often get spam calls on this phone. At the last second, I realize it might be Brick and answer, but I’m too late. The call goes to voicemail.
I wait but there’s no voice message. No growling voice making impossible demands. I hit redial, but nothing happens. While I’m trying to retrace the call, it comes through again, and I can’t switch over fast enough to catch it before it goes to voicemail.
But once again, there’s no voicemail.
I dial IT and describe the situation. “Is there any way to see who’s calling?”
“We’ll look into it,” the tech person says, and after a few minutes, she rattles off a number. I try to dial it from my work phone, but it’s not until I use my personal cell that the numbers go through.
Adalwulf Associates, the caller ID reads. I almost hang up when someone picks up. Before I say anything, the person on the other end of the line greets me, “Ms. Evans.”
A frisson of awareness prickles down my spine. I rise from my seat and face the far wall, where the vast windows give me a perfect view of the Adalwulf building.
I’d know that deep, rasping tone anywhere. Like nails dragged down a chalkboard.
“Mr. Adalwulf. What can I do for you?”
“You’re a difficult one to reach.”
With anyone else, I’d apologize for the inconvenience, but there’s no way I’m deferring to him. “Are you trying to get on Mr. Blackthroat’s schedule?”
“No. That won’t be necessary. It’s not him I’m interested in speaking to. It’s you. What does your schedule look like for, say, lunch? Today if possible.”
“I’m not available.” Why would Aiden Adalwulf want to meet with me? “Is this in regards to Moon Co.?”
“Oh no. It’s something I’d rather keep between us.”
“I’m not interested.”
“You sound so sure. You haven’t even heard what I’m proposing.”
“Good day, Mr. Adalwulf.” I end the call, feeling like I’ve done something wrong.
* * *
Brick
California is a clusterfuck. Which suits my mood right now. My wolf doesn’t understand why we’re not in New York or, better yet, the Berkshires. Actually, all he wants is Madi. It’s clear he’s irrationally attached to the female.
“Any change?” I ask Nickel as soon as I enter the conference room he’s set up as our office away from the office.
“None. We’re in a holding pattern.”
“What’s the issue? What’s going on with Benson Senior?”
“It’s personal.”
Madi told us it would be. She figured out the one angle we’d never think of-the human one.
“Mr. Benson would like to meet with you. Privately. My understanding is that his son went on a joyride before the meeting and disappeared. This isn’t the first time it’s happened. The last time was right before he sold his shares to Adalwulf Associates.”
“So he’s a fuck up. Another spoiled rich kid.” Supposedly I’m one of those, though I never had the luxury of fucking up. Wolves have to learn control young or be put down by their Alpha. “Did they find him?”
“They did. They traced him to a sleazy hotel in San Diego and found him a few hours later strung out and wandering a beach.”
“So he’s safe.”
“In a sense. Mentally, he’s not there. He can’t remember anything about the past few months, not even the deal. When they try to question him, he starts raving about ‘demons with glowing eyes’ that walk among us.”
I curse. “What did the Adalwulfs do to him?”
“We have a theory. Aiden tried to woo Junior to sell the shares. When that didn’t work, he took him to a leech. Had Junior mindwiped.”
A mindwipe by a vampire is a last resort. We’re taught to hide our paranormal selves from humans from birth. But if a human figures out what we are, we take them to a vampire to get their memories erased.
Mindwiping is an art, not a science. Some humans lose a few memories and forget they ever learned about a paranormal being. But if a vampire takes too many memories, the human can present as if they’ve had a lobotomy or a stroke.
Not only can vampires destroy a human’s memories, they can convince humans to do their bidding.
“The Adalwulfs have a pet vampire.” Like all wolf packs, we keep a vampire on retainer. But ours has particular rules about what he will and will not do. Alastair runs a well respected white shoe law firm that’s been in existence since before the Revolutionary War. He has fond memories of verbally sparring with Alexander Hamilton. Getting involved in a mundane business deal would be beneath him. “No self-respecting leech would stoop to toying with a billionaire’s scion just to disrupt a merger. Unless it were desperate.”
“Aiden fights dirty.”
“Like father, like son.” Billy enters the room with two coffee cups in his hand.
I shake my head. “It’s reckless. This deal is high profile. The leech would have to be really desperate to risk exposure.” Humans cannot discover our existence. On that both vampires and shifters agree. “Did you contact Lucius?”
“Sully did,” Nickel says.
“Let the King of the leeches take care of the Adalwulf’s leech.” Billy crumples his coffee cups and tosses them into the trash can all the way across the room. It’s a display of precision he wouldn’t dare show to a human.
Thinking of humans makes my thoughts return to Madi. What would she do in this situation? “Contact Alastair, too,” I say. “See if there’s anything we can do for Junior.”
Nickel’s brows rise. “And if we can? How will we explain things to his father?”
“I’ll do it myself. I’ll tell him we have a private doctor on hand, one who’s personally helped members of my family. One I trust.”
“The personal touch. An appeal to a father’s heart,” Billy almost sneers. “Not a bad way to sway his opinion towards us.”
“It may or may not win us the deal, but it’s the right thing to do.” In my mind’s eye, Madi is nodding her approval.
“I’ll call him at sundown,” Nickel says. “In the meantime, we have a meeting with a few of the top executives. On the golf course.” He gives me a grin that’s more of a grimace. He knows how much I hate glad handing. “More of the soft touch.”
“Of course.” I hide my sigh. “I’ll change into shorts. Billy, you too.”
Billy groans. “Why me?”
“Because you can bullshit with the best of them.” I stand and glare out at the golfing green. I have a long, interminable afternoon ahead of me, and no Madi here to make things bearable.
Do not think of her,
I order myself. The whole reason I’m here in the first place-to stay away from Madi.
When I meet Billy at the golf course, he’s grinning at something on his phone. I’d accuse him of flirting with a fuck buddy on company time, but he only gets that glint in his eye when he’s about to fire someone.
Before I can ask him about it, a group of golfers, a hundred percent of them paunchy, balding human males in their fifties and sixties, see us and raise their hands. These are the Benson executives.
“Here we go,” Billy mutters under his breath. I can hear the derision in his voice, his resentment about having to deal with humans. Then he pastes a congenial expression to his face and strolls towards them.
After a second, I do the same.
Madi
For the rest of the week, I take my place in the empty, echoing C suite and do my work until Jerry comes by to clean. Despite my protests, Tony continues to pick me up from work and take me home. “Mr. Blackthroat’s orders,” he tells me. “Please, Ms. Evans. I need a paycheck, same as you. Let me do my job.”
I don’t want him to be fired on my account, so I ride the limo twice a day. I take my lunches late and use that time to get out of the office and take a stroll around the block.
On Tuesday, I have him give me a ride to La R?sistance instead of home, but I ask him to drop me off two blocks away. If Aubrey and the other nonconformist hippies saw me pull up to the cafe in a limo, they’d barf. I’m about to walk in when my personal cell phone rings.
“Ms. Evans? This is Kristi Johnson with the financial aid office at NYU. We’ve spoken before.”
“Yes. Is something wrong?” I try to focus on the here and now. “Did you get the tuition payment?”
“That’s why I’m calling. I saw the payment clear and wanted to let you know that it’s unnecessary. The Brayden Evans account is paid in full.”
“What? There must be some mistake. When did this happen?”
“Last Monday. I initiated a refund to you for the extra payment.”
I shake my head even though she can’t see it. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
“It looks like he received a full scholarship. Full tuition for four years. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Yes,” I answer weakly. “Amazing. I thought he didn’t get any scholarships.”
“This is a new one set up by a generous, anonymous donor. I hope I didn’t spoil an announcement. I thought you knew.”
I give her the gushing gratitude she’s seeking and hang up the phone. My brother and mother haven’t said anything, but why would they?
This scholarship is out of the blue. Could it have come from the same anonymous donor who paid for my prep school tuition and college degree? But that person hasn’t paid anything for Brayden, which is why I always suspected it could be my mystery dad who was too embarrassed to claim me but trying to throw me a bone from afar.
So it was Brick, then. It has to be.
Last Monday, she said. The first work day after the BFF ball. I remember every second of the event. I’ve replayed it in my head a million times, memorizing it like my favorite movie.
“You seem more of the bleeding heart type. Not one to sell out for money.”
He must’ve done some digging and figured out the real reason I took this job.
If I call him, he’ll deny it. He probably won’t even take my call. But if he thinks I won’t be able to dig up the truth, he’s never met me.
I dial the development office at NYU. “Yes, this is Madison Ev-Everett, I’m Brick Blackthroat’s executive assistant?” I modify my last name at the last second, in case the financial aid department gets wind of this.
“Yes, Ms. Everett, what can I do for you?”
“I’m just calling to make sure everything is set up with the scholarship Mr. Blackthroat is sponsoring.”
“Let me look into that. Please hold.”
I pace in front of the cafe. Inside, Aubrey sees me and waves, looking puzzled as to why I’m here on a work day. I point to my phone and hold up a finger. She nods and grabs a cup, probably to make me a vanilla latte. I’m going to need it. With vodka.
“Yes, it looks like we were able to contact Brayden Evans the morning after we received the wire transfer from Mr. Blackthroat.”
“Great, I’ll let him know. Thank you for your help.”
He did it. He paid for my brother’s tuition. I’m breathless. The money is nothing to him-he has enough to pay the tuition of every undergrad in the States, if not the entire world.
But he spent it on my brother’s tuition. To free me from this job? Because I do mean something to him? What does it mean?
I head into La R?sistance. Aubrey takes a look at my face and pushes a latte in my direction.
“You’ll never believe what the Big Bad Boss did this time.”
She nods and points to the tiny room at the back of the coffee shop. “Office. Now.”
Madi
The office is empty and not just because my boss abandoned me. The day before Thanksgiving break, Moon Co. employees have all cleared out early, leaving only a skeleton crew. When I walk into the lobby, my heels practically echo.
I don’t know how I’m going to go to dinner with my family on Thanksgiving and pretend everything’s well and good.
A part of me is tempted to quit. Leave my resignation on Brick’s desk and let his new assistant process it.
But no, that would mean he wins.
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