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)
“Do you need anything?” I ask after watching him for a few moments in silence.
He hands me the cards. “Look them over. Make any changes.”
Classic Big Bad Boss. Very little direction, which means lots of room to screw up, but I take it as total leeway. It’s a place for me to thrive. I pull a pen out of my tiny purse and go through the cards, tweaking language for smoothness and adding some dry, self-deprecating humor jokes to make Blackthroat seem less stiff and more engaging.
The ballroom has filled with guests by now, and Ruby whizzes by, telling Blackthroat he needs to get onstage in five minutes. His other exec-bros arrive at the table, each with a stunning woman on their arm.
I hand the cards back, and Blackthroat reads through them, his lips curving slightly when he notes my changes. He doesn’t comment, just gets up, looking perfectly relaxed and at ease for someone who protested giving a speech at all. He taps the back of his seat and tips his head, which I interpret to mean I should take his chair. Just in time because Billy arrives with a drink in either hand. It takes a split second for him to figure out where his place card went, and when he does, he looks like he wants to gut me.
But I can’t pay attention to anyone but Blackthroat when he gets up on stage. “Good evening,” he murmurs, looking around the room. The room instantly hushes under the weight of his silent perusal, and they all rush to take their seats. “On behalf of the Blackthroat Foundation, I’m thrilled to welcome you all here tonight.” He may not seem personable one-on-one, but on stage, the guy is absolutely magnetic. Every pair of eyes in the place rivets on him. “I’m Brick Blackthroat, and I can take absolutely no credit for tonight’s event,” he reads the lines I wrote for him. “That all goes to my talented and passionate sister, Ruby.” He lifts a hand to indicate Ruby, who is standing near the reception table.
She laughs and ducks her slender shoulders.
His gaze flicks to me before it sweeps across the room again, and my heart beats faster. “You may know me as the guy who made it big in crypto.” He offers a half-smile, earning a laugh from the warm crowd. “But rest assured, we won’t be handing out grants in Moonshot coin this year.” He slips the index card to the back of the pile and looks back up. “We’ll save that for next year.”
Another laugh.
“As you may know, land conservation is of paramount interest to our foundation, with the particular interest of preserving wildlife corridors to re-enable the natural roaming habits of endangered animals.”
“To that end, we have a number of large grants to award tonight to groups that are making concerted efforts to preserve habitat. I will let each of them tell you about their individual projects in a little bit, but for now, please get comfortable and enjoy your dinner. Thank you.”
The crowd loves him. Everyone claps and beams warm smiles in his direction as he walks off stage and over to me.
And now, of course, the seating dilemma. Because Amanda never found me a chair at his table, and I'm in the wrong seat.
I stand. “I’ll go see if Ruby needs some help. ”
Brick
I want to murder that little she-wolf Amanda for purposely not fixing the seating dilemma. If she worked for me, she’d already be fired, but she’s Ruby’s employee, and I don’t step on my sister’s toes when it comes to running the foundation.
It’s true, no one else would give their coveted plus one spot to their assistant. At a hundred thousand dollars a ticket, they’d at least hire an escort or invite the most beautiful, glamorous man or woman they know to grace their arm.
Madison is the only female I could stand to sit beside me. I’m still pretending my attraction to her isn’t affecting me, but it’s getting harder and harder.
But I don’t want to examine my motives in bringing her here.
I especially don’t want to sit through a dinner with my best friends trying to figure them out, either.
“Stay with me, we’ll make the rounds,” I say. Keeping her at my side, I do my duty stopping by tables to welcome the rich and powerful–human and shifter alike–of Manhattan.
Then I put my hand on Madison’s low back–an undeniable pleasure–and steer her straight out the side door.
“Where are we going?”
“Out. Come on, let’s find the food before it comes in.”
Outside the door, the waiters have rolling carts stacked high with the covered plates. I grab two. The waiter simply stands back. I don’t know if he knows who I am or is just giving me the benefit of the doubt, but he doesn’t ask for any explanation.