Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
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.
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.”