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 especially don’t dislike Brick Blackthroat.
“I’m sure.” Aubrey.
I think of the boardroom, the charged atmosphere. Blackthroat was abrasive as I expected but even more good-looking than his press photos made him appear. Handsome in a way that makes you hate him even more. Like those villains in movies who seem even more dangerous because of their good looks.
My entire body came alive in proximity to him. His power is palpable and addictive.
In my research into this job, I dug up his origin story. Brick Blackthroat came from money, but his father died when he was eighteen, and the family business tanked. The six of them–Brick, his two cousins, and their closest friends–started their first company together in their frat house. They caught the crypto wave with their own coin and then trading platform, MoonShot and MoonBase, but Blackthroat didn’t stop there. He took a big bet investing in a semiconductor company, and that’s where he made his first solid billion. That’s when the world stopped laughing at the frat brothers playing with Monopoly money and started calling Brick Blackthroat the next Warren Buffett.
“They’re bossholes, for sure,” I say. “They’re the baddest boys on Wall Street, but I guess they have to be. That’s the game they’re playing.”
Okay, fine. I admire the hell out of them for what they created.
“Good thing you have lots of practice dealing with the rich and pampered.” She means my time at Landhower, rubbing elbows with the polo-playing set who walked around the oak-shaded campus like they owned it. Their last names were on the old stone buildings, in honor of the sizable donations their families had made to the school, so they kind of did.
“Good thing.” What bothers me is how much I’m looking forward to seeing Brick Blackthroat up close and personal again. I should be immune to rich douchebags.
“What?” Aubrey leans in. “What’s that look on your face? You can tell me.”
“My boss is hot.”
“Ooooh,” Aubrey taps her silver nose stud. “You’re into Wall Street bros now.”
“Hell, no.” I rear back so fast I almost spill my latte. “I don’t date rich guys.”
“I didn’t say ‘date’.” Aubrey runs a finger along the rim of her mug. “I’m just saying…if the conference room’s a-rocking, don’t come a-knocking.”
“Gross,” I say, but I smile. The images flash through my mind as if they were waiting for permission: me laid out before my boss like a buffet offering, Blackthroat looming over me, glacial eyes pinning me to the conference table as he strips off his suit jacket and rolls up his shirt sleeves. What sort of muscles are hiding under his suit?
No, no, no. No drooling over my boss. “I need this job. I need money, not to get laid.”
“Maybe you can get both. A couple of orgasms and a nice payout to keep Dick Blackthroat’s name out of the tabloids.”
I choke on my latte.
“That’s how I’d play it.” Aubrey’s smile is wicked.
“Plan Z, then. If I get fired.”
“You won’t get fired. You’re a quick study.”
I am more than a quick study. I am as capable as an assistant could be, and I plan to make myself indispensable to Brick Blackthroat. Indira and I will keep those jobs, and Brayden will get his education.
Aubrey reaches below the counter to retrieve a flier. “They’re having an 80’s band night next door.”
“No,” I groan before she can even ask.
“Come on,” she wheedles. “It’ll be fun.”
Eighties girl bands are everything to Aubrey. They always have been. We spent most of our early teens either learning to play or choreographing dances to The Bangles, The Go-Go’s and Banarama.
“I can’t. I need to prep for tomorrow, and it might be an all-nighter.” After the mornings’ conference meeting, the office was buzzing about the Benson deal. I need to know every detail before morning.
Rule number three: Always be prepared.
“It’s not tonight. It’s in a month,” she says. “And I may have already signed us up to play.”
“To play?”
“Please? Please, please, please? It will be so fun!”
“Aubrey–”
“I can’t do the Go-Go’s by myself. I need you.”
“You need someone with real talent, and that is not me.”
“It is totally you. There are four bands playing, and we would be second. I got my friend Erica to play drums. We just need you on bass. No rehearsals required–I know you’re busy.”
“I’m not playing without a rehearsal. We literally haven’t performed since tenth grade.”
“Yeah, but I know you. You never forget anything. I’ll rehearse with Erica. You just have to show up that night and play.”
“Fine.” I open the calendar on my phone and enter the date. “I’ll do it. For you. Just let me get my sea legs with this job. I might need to pull some all-nighters to stay one step ahead.”
“Those billionaires don’t deserve you.”
“No. They do not.”
Aubrey scampers over to the espresso machine. “Before you go, I’ll make you a latte. Full-caf this time.”