“Wait, whoa. What does that mean?”
“I mean there’s no way I’m ever going to actually end up with a guy like Brick Blackthroat. People may dally outside their social strata, but that’s all it is. A dalliance.”
“So you’re saying because you’re not going to marry this guy, you can’t enjoy some hot sex and helicopter rides?”
Something twists beneath my ribs. I don’t want to give up any of it.
But I have to. It would only end in disaster. And I’m not the type to take risks when I know they won’t pay off.
“No more sex with the boss,” I say firmly.
“Okay,” Aubrey agrees. “I say you keep torturing him. Wear the dresses and withhold sex. He’ll go nuts.”
Somehow, that doesn’t feel right either.
I don’t want to withhold anything from Brick Blackthroat.
But that is my most dangerous thought of all.
I end the call with Aubrey and throw on a robe to pad out to the kitchen where my mom and Brayden are demolishing the Sunday crossword. I stand over their shoulders, offering answers to the remaining clues.
“Bruh, it’s no fun when you’re around,” Brayden grumbles. “Between you and Mom, it goes too fast.”
My mom, who has a PhD in literature, kicks butt at the
New York Times crosswords, but Brayden and I can hold our own. I guess all of us enjoy a challenge.
“What was the Blackthroat estate like?” Brayden asks between bites of leftover pecan pie.
“I didn’t see the property because of the blizzard, but the cottage was built in the Gilded Age. It’s a forty-four room mansion with giant stone fireplaces and ornate carved wood trim.” I got some of those details from Brick’s mom, Catherine, when we chatted in the living room.
My mom’s lips turn down with judgment. Sometimes I forget where I get my love-hate relationship with money. My mom is one of those people, like Aubrey, who believe all rich people are greedy, environment-destroying, anti-socialist assholes who make their money by stomping on the backs of the underprivileged. I know her relationship with my biological father contributed greatly to that view.
I’ve embraced that philosophy for the most part, except I also secretly enjoy money. I like my new six-figure salary-although I’m regretting asking him to double it. His entire executive team now knows that I’ve slept with him, so getting a hundred thousand dollar raise probably won’t sit well with any of them.
My pride would be wounded having people think I slept my way to a raise rather than worked my ass off for it.
I did like wearing a twenty thousand dollar gown to a charity ball, even though it wasn’t me. It was fun to play the part for the night. To ride in the limo and the helicopter. All of it has been fun to experience, even if it’s just to laugh and make fun of the rich behind their backs. I’m not bedazzled by Blackthroat’s wealth, but I definitely enjoy the perks.
I guess there’s something inauthentic about my own relationship with money. A conflict I haven’t figured out how to resolve. I try to remind myself that money isn’t real. It is power Blackthroat and the old bluebloods wield, and power can be abused or used for good. Rejecting it altogether doesn’t fix or resolve social injustice or disparities between the classes.
“I can’t believe you just ordered up his helicopter. Are you allowed to use it for other things?”
“No. God no. I only did it because it was an emergency. Blackthroat was definitely pissed. Although I guess he was more mad about how dangerous it was with the blizzard than the liberties I took ordering it.”
My mom goes still and stares at me with a look of alarm.
Crap on a cracker. Now she probably suspects there’s something more to our relationship than assistant-boss.
“Only because it meant I got stranded there and had to join his family for Thanksgiving,” I add quickly. As I say the words that I know will reassure and redirect my mom, I realize how much her thinking influenced me in that moment when Blackthroat blew up at me. That was the conclusion I jumped to, rather than the one in which my boss secretly cared about my safety and was cranky that I put myself in danger.
But maybe the latter is just a Cinderella fantasy. It’s honestly hard for me to discern which statement is more true. I’m too involved in this situation to trust my own sense of deduction and logic.
“Yeah, how was that?” Brayden asks.
“Awkward. Super awkward. I’m glad to be home.” Sort of.
Obviously, Brick wanted me gone. This was nothing but a fling. Sure, we got close for one second, but in the end, we’re from different worlds. He’s a billionaire. I’m the help. We’re boss-employee. His family home over the holidays was no place for me to be.
So, I left the Berkshires-and not because Billy White ran me out. I left because I knew it was the safest choice for my heart. Developing any expectations of Blackthroat that can be easily dashed is a recipe for disaster. And I’m far too careful a planner for foibles like that.
Tomorrow, I plan to go in and pretend nothing ever happened. Back to being the perfect assistant to the big bad boss.
* * *
Brick
My private sports club is a lot like any other upscale gym, with one main difference. Everyone here is a shifter.
There’s a werelion in the corner, swinging a kettlebell. Another two shifters-one smelling like a cat and the other like a bull or maybe buffalo-spotting each other at the bench press.
And a werebear in the boxing ring across from me.
The air is thick and humid with the scent of shifters and good, clean sweat. The place echoes with snarls and the occasional roar.
Like the rest of the gym, the fighting ring has a rule: no animal forms allowed. If you want to let your animal out, you do so on private land. Anyone losing control like that gets kicked out. But I can feel my wolf testing my control, trying to break free.
A bell rings, and I launch myself towards my opponent. He comes out swinging. We meet in the middle of the ring, jabbing and punching while keeping light on our feet.
He sneaks a strike past my defenses, and my body rocks with the blow. Pain washes through me, and I relish it. Anything to distract from the empty feeling that’s gnawed on my insides since Thanksgiving.
My opponent is Darius Medevev, CEO of an up-and-coming hedge fund and good friend. My top wolves-Billy, Nickel, Jake, Vance and Sully-are all members here, but I came in this morning because I knew they were already at the office. I haven’t wanted to see them since they faced me down in the snow and told me to send Madi away.
I hike back my fist and let it fly. Darius takes the punch, grunts, and gives it back as good as he gets. He’s over six feet tall and built. The perfect opponent, except my wolf wishes it were Billy in the ring.
Get rid of Madison, he said, before she brings this entire pack down.
I throw another punch and miss. I try again with a right hook, and it glances off Darius’ side.
My sisters.
Jab. Jab. Cross.
The pups.
I feint right, but Darius doesn’t fall for it.
Get rid of her.
With a roar, I rush forward and smash Darius’ face. There’s a crunch, and he staggers back, blood pouring from his nose. My wolf snarls, wanting to chase him down for the kill. I force myself back to my corner.
Darius sets his long fingers on either side of his nose and snaps the cartilage back into place. The blood has already stopped flowing. Shifters heal quickly, and if we don’t set our broken bones immediately, they’ll heal wrong. Nothing worse than breaking your leg, limping back home only for your dad to chew you out while the pack healer breaks it again.
My father knew I had to be tough and strong. He knew that I’d be in an arena just like this fighting for my life everyday. I just didn’t realize I would have to fight my best friends.
You need to get rid of her.
Billy only said what needed to be said. I did my duty and had him send Madi away. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still want to go after her and destroy anyone who stands in my way.
“Dude,” Darius calls. “I don’t know if you realize this, but your eyes have been glowing for the past five minutes. Your wolf is showing.”
Fuck. I turn away and run my tongue over my teeth. My canines are dangerously sharp. I brace myself against the ropes and force my wolf back down. He snarls and retreats, but I don’t feel any calmer. There’s an empty ache deep in my gut.
“You want to go another round?” Darius asks.
I shake my head and glance at the giant clock fixed to the wall, a reminder that I have tens of thousands of people counting on me every second of every day. I can forget myself for a few minutes, but that’s all.
Duty. Honor. Pack. I was raised to uphold my pack’s legacy. And now I want to throw it all away. Chase after my human assistant like a smitten puppy.
And I hate myself for it. I can’t be weak like this. The fate of my entire pack rests on my shoulders. They need a strong alpha to lead them. One wrong move, and the Adalwulfs will be at our throats.
Mating a human would be seen as weak. Doing so would let down my pack and my entire bloodline. My children wouldn’t inherit the throne. But at worst, Aiden would exploit the weakness, poach my pack members, and leave the Blackthroat line, including Auggie and April, exposed for a kill.
So while I’m alpha, I could never claim a human mate. And right now, things are too precarious to consider a regime change. If I stepped down, the Adalwulfs would take it as a sign of weakness, and come after us with everything they have. We barely survived my father’s death. We lost the company and only held onto the pack because my inner circle rallied around my leadership. Together we were an impenetrable force.
Things are still not stable. Right now, I’m the only one who can lead us. It’s the role I was born for. I can’t just walk away.
No matter how much I’m tempted.
Whenever I waver, I imagine my nephew Auggie. Laughing, running from his mother, tumbling down a snowy hill. If the Adalwulfs attacked, they wouldn’t be merciful. They’d slit his throat and leave him dead in the snow.
They’ve done it before. They’ve wiped whole packs off the map. My father told those horror stories around the campfire so we’d remember why the Adalwulfs are our enemies.
They’re completely ruthless, and if they see me as weak, they’ll come after us. Aiden Adalwulf could challenge me for the alpha position in another form of hostile takeover. This one with more disastrous consequences than losing billions of dollars and control of the company.
My wolf hates that I sent Madi away, but he understands. He’s as torn as I am.
At least I will still see her at work. Unless she actually did quit. After the way Billy hustled her out of the manse, I wouldn’t blame her.
“I need to get into the office.” My voice comes out a growl. The sign that my wolf is close. I dip out of the ring and trot to a nearby table stacked with clean white towels. I grab one and rub my face with it.
Darius follows.
“Good fight,” I say, and my voice sounds better.
“Thanks. You were distracted.”
I grunt.
“Is it Benson?”
“No. Benson is almost wrapped.”
“Good.” Darius tosses me a water bottle and grabs one for himself. “I heard the Adalwulfs took a chunk out of it.”
“Yeah, they grabbed a bunch of shares. When we take control, Aiden will have a vote, until we force him out.”
“Aiden Adalwulf,” Darius says slowly. “Isn’t he your cousin?”
“Yes.” Cousins, we were both ruthlessly groomed to lead a pack. The irony is Aiden Adalwulf is the one person on Earth in a position to understand the incredible pressure I’m under. Not that I’d ever admit a hint of weakness to him. One misstep, and he’d coolly slit my throat.
“You know what they’re saying about you, right?”
“Who?”
“The Adalwulfs. Their seeress has a new prophecy about you.”
I go cold. The Adalwulf pack has always had a seeress who advises the Alpha. Her prophecies have always given their pack an edge. “What?”
“Oh, you hadn’t heard? It’s something like,
The Blackthroat king has a weakness. I assume that refers to you.”
The words hit me harder than any of his previous punches, but I’m careful to keep my expression blank.
The prophecy is obviously about me and Madison. Fuck.
“I need to get to the office.”
“You need to go for a run. Let your wolf out.” There’s sober concern on Darius’ face.
If I were smart, I’d take his friendly advice and head right back to the Berkshires.
But I have to see her.
* * *
Madi
Monday morning, Brick steps off the elevator looking…different. His hair is still wet, like he just showered, and he has an aggressive edge to him. Like the four-day weekend had the opposite effect of a normal man’s vacation. He definitely didn’t return relaxed.
I predict at least three people will get fired today.
Hopefully, I won’t be one of them.
His nostrils flare as he stalks in and heads straight for me.
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