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)
“Oh right. No silver utensils allowed on the premises,” she intones. “Page thirty-eight, fifty-six and one hundred and eleven of the assistant manual.” She goes back to cutting her New York strip, which slides around on the plate and makes her jostle her knees to hold the plate steady. “What’s that about anyway? Are you allergic to silver?”
“Something like that.” I take the knife from her and cut neat strips. It’s not an intimate act, except that I’m a wolf, and feeding my female is a primordial urge. I can’t deny the surge of satisfaction it gives me, even though it probably offends her since she knows nothing about shifter culture.
I don’t want to examine why I would feel this way about feeding a human. She’s not my mate. She can’t be.
Maybe I just need to screw her and get her out of my system.
Oh, right. Can’t do that, either, because she’s my fucking assistant. The best one I’ve ever had, no less. And honestly, having a capable assistant has to trump my need to know what it would be like to taste her.
To hear her screams of pleasure. Her voice choking out my name when I make her come.
It simply can’t happen. A fact I knew before I invited her here as my tortuous non-date.
“What about you? Skeletons in your family’s closet?”
“Lots.” Literal ones–caused by our feud with the Adalwulfs. There’s not much I can say about my family and the secret of what we really are, but she’s watching me, her warm brown eyes attentive. “My family is as dysfunctional as they come.”
When I don’t elaborate, she says, “You were sweet to your sister tonight.”
“We’re close. Fucked up families sometimes do that to siblings.”
“Are you close with Scarlett?”
Now I’ve had enough. “Too many questions, Windows.”
“You started it–Sir.”
The added sir wrings a chuckle out of me. “So I did.”
I finish my food, but Madison’s barely made it through a quarter of her plate. I crack open the Perrier and sip straight from the bottle.
“Why are we out here?” Madison asks.
“I don’t need to suffer through a stuffy dinner in there with guys I see every day.” It has nothing to do with wanting to be alone with Madison Evans.
I look at my Rolex. “I’ll go back when dinner’s over and do my duty.”
“What about Benson Senior?”
Right. My supposed reason for bringing her here. “I’ll corner him later. Make small talk.”
“Ask him about golf,” she advises. “Outside of his company and leaving a legacy for his son, it’s his main obsession. Do you know anything about golf?”
“Sure.” I’m not bad with bullshit, when I try.
I get on my phone to check all the texts that have been coming in. Mostly from my pack brothers wanting to know where I went and what was up with me bringing the secretary. I leave them unanswered and check my alerts for news reports on MoonBase, Moon Co. or the Benson deal. Nickel promised to keep on top of any reporters. We even discussed letting slip some false information, so we can sniff out the leak.
There’s a traitor in our midst, and if we don’t find the betrayal soon, the Adalwulfs will continue to be one step ahead.
Madison gives up on finishing her food and sets the plate down, stripping the napkin shield from her peek-a-boobs. The sight makes me agitated and angry. Normally, having her near me calms my wolf, but it’s too much with the windows. My testosterone and levels of the male shifter hormone lupinocrine go nuts with the need to chase, catch and claim her. Forcefully, if necessary. Actually, forcefully would be preferred. If she were a she-wolf.
“Let’s go.” I stand and offer her a hand since it’s a long way up, and she’s in precarious heels and a full-length dress. She puts her fingers in my palm. I’m way too happy to know that her scent will be on my skin for the next thirty minutes if I don’t wash. Tonight her scent is heavy on the citrus, with only a hint of nutmeg.
I lead her back to the ballroom where the band is playing and a few people are dancing. Instead of heading to my assigned table, I lead her straight to the dance floor. The need to hold this female in my arms is just too much for me.
“W-wait. What are we doing?” she asks. It’s the first time I’ve seen a touch of panic in her, and it surprises me.
I give her my usual asshole look of scorn. “Dancing. Ruby will freak out if people don’t get on the floor.”
“Okay, um…I’m freaking out because I don’t really know how to dance.”
“Ah.” I can’t help but smile because her admission is cute. “So there is something you’re not good at.”
We arrive on the floor, and I take her right hand in my left, placing my other palm on her back beneath her shoulder blades to guide her. “Put your hand on my shoulder,” I murmur.