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)
Dammit, I was going to take my power back. This is what he does to me.
“I heard you haven’t come out to eat.” He says it not like he’s concerned, but rather that it’s a fatal character flaw of mine. “I don’t have the time or patience to attend to you, Madison. I don’t know what you’ve been doing, but since you’re here, you might as well get some work done.”
I draw back in shock. I didn’t think he could offend me more, but he has.
“You know what?” I snap. “I’m done. You win. I quit. You can take your work, and just fuck right off, Brick Blackthroat.”
“You’re not quitting.” He says it like he forbids it. As if he can stop me.
The urge to stomp off and make a grand exit overcomes me. I grab my boots by the door and shove my feet into them, then stuff my arms into my coat. “You’re right. I’m not quitting. You’re going to tell Genevieve Small that you fired me, so I can collect unemployment.”
“Madison.”
“You’re going to tell her, or I’m going to make a big stink about getting spanked by my boss over the conference room table.”
To my satisfaction, Blackthroat turns pale.
Good.
“Just hold up.” He reaches for me but checks the movement before he actually grabs my arm.
I pick up a muffin from the plate he brought. “I’m going to cool off outside. When I come back, I will fend for myself in the kitchen. You don’t need to bring me food and berate me for not getting it myself. And don’t worry, I have no plans to join you for your holiday feast. I know where I belong.” I stomp out of the room, carrying the muffin with me, not caring if I drop crumbs all over his hallway.
“Madison, you can’t go outside, we’re in the middle of a fucking blizzard.” The last word dies on Blackthroat’s lips, and his heavy steps behind me stop.
In front of me, standing at the junction of the hallway, is an elegant woman in her late fifties or early sixties who bears a strong resemblance to Brick and Ruby.
I’m too wrapped up in my own dramatic exit to give it too much thought, though. I sweep past her and out the first door I can find, grateful for the bite of wind against my face and the deafening quiet it brings.
Brick
“Don’t speak to me,” I warn my mother. She’s been creeping around this fucking lodge trying to talk to me, but I am not having it.
I hate that she just overheard the exchange between me and Madison.
Fuck, did she hear the part about me spanking her? Even I have enough of a conscience to feel shameful over that.
I’m an asshole. Vance was right–I went too far. Or she didn’t roll with it the way she usually does. And somehow it’s a thousand times worse having my mother witness it.
The mother who is dead to me.
And now, I just let Madison go because having my mother show up discombobulated me.
Maybe I should let her cool off… I don’t know.
I was admittedly horrible to her. She was right–berating her for not getting her own food was unkind. So was yelling at her for risking her life to get here.
I blame it on my wolf, who for some reason went frantic at the thought of her not eating this morning, like I’m her mate who is required to provide for her, and I was shirking my duty. I kicked up a fuss in the kitchen making them figure out how to make her a vanilla latte when they didn’t have the syrup, and then I was mad that we didn’t have her favored chocolate croissants.
Right now, my wolf is going apeshit about her quitting, but I’ll fix it.
Apologizing to employees isn’t in my repertoire, but for Madison, I’ll try. There’s no way I’m letting that girl walk.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Madison
It feels good to be outside. Away from the confines of the house. Away from Blackthroat. Except thinking of him makes my eyes burn again.
Am I really quitting? Leaving things this way?
Part of me doesn’t want to. And yet I knew when I began, this day would come. This job was never supposed to mean anything to me. He was never supposed to mean anything to me.
Damn him.
I stomp through the drifting snow until my feet get cold inside my boots, and my face is numb. I don’t know how long it’s been. Maybe thirty or forty minutes. Enough time for my thoughts to go in a complete circle forward and backward and then forward again.
Then I turn around to head back.
Except… fuck.
It’s a total white-out. Like, I can’t see ten feet in front of me.
Okay, no problem. I will follow my tracks in the snow. I keep my focus on my prints and pick up my speed.