Our father mated with the enemy, which means we had the most fucked up childhood imaginable.
In our family, it’s either keep each other close or watch out for the knife in your back.
I’m out for blood when I get to Moon Co. So help any employee who looks at me wrong today. They scatter as I slice through the lobby with long strides. The security guards stand straighter, propping their shoulders back as I pass. I’ll fire any of them if they so much as look at their phones while on duty.
Moon Co. already has more security measures than most companies, but I’m going to add more. The employees will complain in private, but fuck them. They’re here for a paycheck. The stakes are higher for me and my pack. Our enemies snap at our heels, threatening our very existence. This isn’t just business, this is life and death.
I step into the elevator with Noah, one of my top analysts, punch in the code for the executive floor, and pivot to face out. Normally if I get in an elevator, the rest of the employees-at least those who know better-wait for the next one, but I’m assaulted by the scent of New Girl as she comes dashing in carrying two cups of coffee from Starbucks.
I get the same spike of sexual interest the moment I breathe in her sweetly spiced scent, but something else happens, too. The underlying rage I was feeling about the situation with my mom and the rest of the Adalwulfs subsides. Like my wolf needs me to be calm around this female. Keep her protected from my more dangerous side.
“Good morning, Mr. Blackthroat,” she intones politely. She’s wearing a knee-length pencil skirt and a form-fitting blouse that draws my gaze straight to her tits. She has a perfect rack. I’m almost certain they’d look like a pair of ripe peaches if I unwrapped them.
And I do want to unwrap them.
She’s not wearing perfume, but her scent, combined with that of her coffee-vanilla latte, by the smell-curls in my nostrils, makes my fingers close into fists.
The combination of my body’s response to her and my irritation with said response makes me want to slam her against the elevator wall with my fingers around her throat. Kiss that smart mouth until she moans while I teach her not to tease my dick.
But she isn’t teasing. She’s just standing in an elevator, same as I am.
I ignore her.
Madison shifts her weight but shows no reaction to her reception from me. I’d call her oblivious, but I suspect she’s too smart for that. She either has a very robust sense of self or is adept at hiding her social discomfort.
“What floor?” Noah asks in the noticeable tones of a deaf person. He’s a wolf shifter, but not from any New York pack, and he didn’t get the job through organization ties. He got a foot in the door in the human way, which means he’s bright and successful. It’s what makes him a favorite of mine.
New Girl turns her face clearly to his and says “twenty-eight” at the same time she shifts the coffees to one hand and flips her fingers at him.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. She knows sign language. She is too much. I remember from her resume, which I reviewed last night-a first for me-she’s fluent in four languages and one of them is ASL. I also noticed yesterday that she pronounces Indira’s name differently than I do. Like she’s showing off that she knows the correct Hindi pronunciation instead of the usual American.
Noah reads lips or has a cochlear implant or something. I don’t even know if he knows ASL-I’ve never seen him sign. I’ve never addressed anything personal with the wolf. He does a job for me, I pay him well. He’s earned his way into my trusted few.
His face breaks into a smile, though. It’s the first I’ve seen on him, and for some reason, I want to flatten him to the wall for it.
Because it’s directed at her.
He signs something back, and then the two of them are at it-having an entire conversation with their hands that I can’t understand.
Noah gets off at his floor, and New Girl and I continue to the top floor. When I get off, she follows me into my office.
I whirl, about to chop her head off at the neck, but I see she’s quietly headed to my desk to set one of the coffees on it.
I can’t decide whether to marvel or rage at the fact that she seems as comfortable stepping into my space as one my sisters would be. She didn’t knock or ask permission to enter. She just came in and did her thing. She’s sucking up, but somehow, it feels more like an alpha move than an omega one.
I also don’t mind that her scent is now in my office.
She breezes past me and heads out the door without waiting for a thank you. Maybe she knows it won’t be coming.
I clear my throat. “There’s a credit card for expenses in Indira’s desk.”
“I used it,” she assures me. Her head flashes up briefly, and she meets my gaze.
I go still, shocked again that she dares look me in the eye.
I wait a beat until she blinks and looks down. Clearing my throat, I head around my desk. “I need head of security up here in ten minutes. We’re installing retina and fingerprint scans in the elevators and access doors by end of day.”
“Right away, sir.” She sways out of my office, not quite stable in her high heels. I force myself not to watch.
Outside I hear Indira ask incredulously in an undertone, “Did you just go into his office uninvited?
“Yeah. I was ready to be thrown out the window, but apparently his verbal violence is under control for the morning.”
Verbal violence. I don’t mind the description.
“You are going to get us both fired,” Indira grumbles, but there’s admiration in her tone.
“Did I overstep?”
“Yeah, I don’t think you’re allowed in there unless he says he wants both of us.”
“I mean with you? I definitely am trying to have your back, not get you fired.”
“No, you didn’t overstep with me. I’m glad you’re here. I’ve got your back, too.”
Before I puke from their fawning fest, I pick up my phone and start barking orders.
Madi
Friday morning, there’s a black and red Bugatti idling in front of Moon Co.’s building when I hustle in. The sports car is parked in front of a fire hydrant. One of the C-suits probably left it there, so they could send a hapless assistant down to park it properly. The CFO-Vance-or maybe the COO, Billy. I can’t picture Brick Blackthroat driving it. He’d prefer something less flashy.
Not that I have an opinion on this.
My phone buzzes before I hit the elevator, and I know before I check it that it’s a text from Aubrey. She’s spent all week sending me her version of motivational quotes.
Aubrey: Remember: Dick Blackthroat puts on his pants like everyone else. Except, with each leg, he makes another billion dollars.
Me: Stop calling him that.
Aubrey: Why? Can’t stop thinking about his…
She adds an eggplant emoji, and I turn off my phone, shaking my head. Aubrey knows me too well.
I may or may not have had a sex dream about my big bad boss last night. We were in the boardroom, and he was undressing me with his gaze. He put his hand on my knee…
The elevator chimes, and I shake my head. I was up late memorizing the structure of the Benson deal. I can chalk up my wild dreams and waking fantasies to sleep deprivation. I need caffeine.
Indira finds me in the kitchenette we use to prep refreshments for Brick’s meetings. “Thank God you’re here.” She sounds breathless.
“Everything okay?”
“The executive meeting got moved up.” She scrubs a hand over her face. “They just told me.”
“What do you need me to do?” Business Madi is here to save the day. I even dressed in my version of a power suit: a form-fitting 50s style dress that clings to my curves while maintaining a modest neckline.
Mad Men meets Marilyn Monroe.
“They will meet in the conference room up here. The CFO’s team is sending up some proposal packets.”
Mr. Blackthroat’s deep voice carries across the floor as he gets off the elevator. He’s mid-conversation with some unseen person on the other side of his Bluetooth earbud. “Absolutely not,” he barks in his most forbidding tone. Even though he’s not talking to us, Indira flinches.
“Big Bad Boss on deck,” I mutter under my breath to her, “Take cover.”
He strides past us on long legs, looking lethally handsome in a suit that probably costs more than my college education. It’s unfortunate I have a thing for suit porn. And a fascination with asshole bosses.
Or maybe it’s fortunate because at least I’m not rendered into a nervous mess like Indira.
We stand in front of her desk to receive him, like old-fashioned servants welcoming home the lord of the house. He flicks a look our way and ends his call to address us.
“Get the head of Tech Acquisitions. Now.”
“Yes, sir,” we chorus, but he’s already shut his office door.
“He means before the meeting.” I’m not really asking, but Indira nods. “I got this.” I grab a phone and start dialing. “You get started on the meeting prep. I’ll join you ASAP.”
The head of Tech Acquisitions, Bennetton Burgess, doesn’t answer his direct line. Neither does his assistant. I leave a message and keep redialing. I’ll run down to the thirty-sixth floor and drag him up here if I have to.
Finally, I get someone to pull Mr. Burgess out of an all-team meeting. “Mr. Blackthroat would like to see you on the fifty-fifth floor. Immediately.”
“Now? Did he say what this was about?”
I channel my inner CEO and infuse my voice with strength. You have to out-alpha these guys. It’s the only way they’ll listen. “He did not take the time to explain himself. I only know you need to come in person. He has a hard stop in thirty-two minutes, so if it were me, I’d get on an elevator like my job was at stake.”
Five minutes later, the head of Tech Acquisitions, Bennetton Burgess, storms off the elevator. I detour from the printer to rap on Blackthroat’s door, but he’s already opening it.
“What’s the status of the Morpheus project?” he barks in Burgess’ face.
Mr. Burgess takes a step back, the red flush fading from his face. His gaze goes to the window, to the conference room, to me-anywhere but the Big Bad Boss. “It’s complicated. My team knows the details-“
“You’re fired. Get out.” Blackthroat raps out, his voice like machine gunfire.
Burgess explodes with an f-bomb. “Are you serious?”
Blackthroat just stares him down.
I hover between two desks, my brain frozen. Should I call security? HR? Both? I try to remember protocol.
After a few seconds, Burgess wilts. He walks to the elevator. Blackthroat’s office door slams, jerking me out of my frozen state.
I duck into a cubicle to make the calls. Indira finds me there, finishing up with HR. I hang up and mouth “Whoa.”
“Was that the first time you saw him fire someone?” At my nod, she adds, “It can happen a couple times a day around here. Sometimes several an hour.”
“Is it always that…” I search for the right word.
“Brutal? Yes.” She glances at the clock. “I’m almost done with the conference room. Blackthroat needs a report. And a bottle of water chilled to exactly six degrees celsius.”
“I’ll get the water.”
“How are you going to make sure it’s exactly six degrees celsius?”
“I’ll think of something.” It’s probably just a hoop for me to jump through, but I’m not taking any chances.
The fridge holding the water is set to forty degrees fahrenheit, which is close enough to six degrees celsius. To be safe, I stick the bottle under my arm to warm it up. Some digging, and I find a thermometer in our well stocked first aid kit under the sink. I open the bottle and check. Forty three degrees Fahrenheit on the nose, if the heat of my hand doesn’t warm it up too much before I get across the room.
I hustle to Blackthroat’s office. The door is cracked, so I simply rap on it in warning and open it. The big, bad boss stands by the window, his eyes on his phone and his back to the stunning cityscape.
“Your water, sir.” I extend the bottle, right as the heel of my stiletto catches on a snag in the carpet. Instead of handing my boss his water, I trip and go flying, straight into him.
He catches my forearms and steadies me on my feet. His hands are large and warm, guiding me. He’s not wearing cologne-cologne is banned from the premises-but the clean hit of his masculine scent is like a shot of whiskey to my senses.
Of all the reasons to be fired, it’s going to be for my clumsiness. I should have seen that coming. My prowess on heels is somewhat limited. To make matters worse, I didn’t properly re-screw the top of the water bottle. Water sloshed all over his white dress shirt.
Without thinking, I pat the sodden fabric as if I can blot my mistake away. My palms mold to hard muscle, and my brain fizzles out. There’s one rock solid ab, and another, and another. Wow. How many muscles is his stomach packing?
“Madison.” A gravelly voice snaps me out of my daze. Brick Blackthroat is staring at me, an unreadable expression in his dark brown eyes.
Holy shit, I am groping my boss.
I snatch my hand back. “Excuse me. Sir.” All the blood in my body is rushing to my face. “I’ll get you some towels. And a change of clothes.” I race out of his office and head to the closet by the restroom where a number of freshly dry cleaned suits are hanging. Indira is glowering at the computer screen, whipping the requested report into shape, and doesn’t notice my scramble.
I open the closet, and Blackthroat’s scent hits me. Once again, the fresh, woodsy fragrance scrambles my senses, and I flash back to the moment when Blackthroat caught me. The strength in his arms. The stone slab of his abs.
Get it together.
I grit my teeth and grab a suit bag. I’ve fucked up. In the first week, no less. I’m about to join the freshly fired Mr. Burgess of Tech Acquisitions in his walk of shame out of the building. Bile churns in my stomach.
The door to Blackthroat’s office is cracked open. This time, I don’t knock. “Sir, I found your-“
He turns from the window, his shoulders blocking out the sun.
Oh, damn.
Gone is my billionaire boss. In his place is a cut, shirtless god. With his heavily-muscled chest glistening from his impromptu baptism, he looks like a boxing champ about to weigh in. I knew he was well-built under the suit, but this is ridiculous. Forget a six-pack, he’s packing a twelve-pack, at least. Which is impossible, but there it is. A real live anatomy lesson, and I want to study it until I get an A plus.
My mouth hangs open. I’m usually quick on my feet-not literally, obviously, since I just tripped over a longitude line-but I turn stupid at the sight of him. I’m unable to form words. My skin gets hot and tight like I’ve got sunburn all over.
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