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)
“She doesn’t live on much,” Sully continues. “Everything’s going to her brother’s tuition.”
“All right,” I tell him. “Keep digging. I want to know everything about her.” I need to know.
Sully nods. We re-enter the ballroom, where he fades into the shadows, while I head to the bar. I’ve barely gotten my drink before the vultures descend. Guest after guest, some human and some wolf, queuing up to greet me. To kiss the ring.
I force myself to shake hands and tolerate bullshit small talk. I owe it to Ruby. The minutes blend into hours, and I keep going, letting the voices and names and faces blend into one. I do my duty, acting like the perfect host. Just like my parents did before me. It doesn’t matter that I want to be somewhere else. With someone else. My course was set, my legacy written in stone before I was born.
No use longing for what I can’t have.
No matter how many hands I shake, Madison’s scent still clings to my fingertips. I can still feel the graceful sway of her body as she danced in my arms. Her lips, warm and soft against mine.
It will have to be enough.
Chapter Sixteen
Madi
I spend the whole weekend trying to wipe my memory of our kiss. The way Blackthroat bent me back, his lips devouring mine. The way he growled when I teetered off balance. The way I clung to him.
It was the best kiss of my life.
The biggest mistake.
And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want it to happen again.
What does this mean for our working relationship? We didn’t just blur the lines, we blew past them like they didn’t exist. Where do we go from here?
There’s a pile of packages waiting on my stoop Saturday morning when Aubrey and I walk back from getting coffee. One of the coveted BFFB gift bags and a gift basket full of blister treatment products.
“What’s this one?” Aubrey holds up a square box wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine.
I tear it open. It’s a pair of designer shoes, cute but with a sensible low heel.
“No note?” Aubrey demands.
“No, but they can only be from Brick.”
“Oh, is it Brick now?” Aubrey waggles her brows. I’ve already given her the entire scoop on what happened last night. “He definitely wants you.”
“Maybe, but he pushed me out of that elevator and told me to go.”
“So he wants you but knows it would be crossing a line.”
“Yeah.”
I want to call him. Ask him where we stand. But I already know, don’t I? He made it clear I wasn’t his date. The kiss was a fluke. A momentary weakness. There’s no reason for me to think it meant anything.
“Let me ask you this,” Aubrey says, rolling the twine between two fingers. “What would you have done if he’d invited you home with him? Would you have gone for it?”
I pretend to consider, but I don’t fool Aubrey.
“You totally would have.”
“In a heartbeat,” I admit. “I would have zero self-control when it came to him. Even though letting things go in that direction has Big Bad Idea written all over it.”
“Just go for it,” Aubrey says. “Wear one of those peek-a-boo dresses and seduce the hell out of him. I dare you.”
An engine starts somewhere inside of me. Not at the dare. At the thought of what Blackthroat would do if I did as Aubrey suggested.
He would definitely react–he hasn’t hidden that my body has an effect on him–a fact I absolutely love to pull out and chew on every night before I fall asleep when I may or may not have my fingers between my legs. I know he wouldn’t fire me over it. He would’ve done it the first time I wore a peek-a-boo dress after he told me not to.
But what would I be goading him into? A torrid office affair?
Ooh, that sounds kinky.
Well, why not? I’m young. I have sexual needs and desires. I’m working for a very hot Wall Street billionaire who has made it plain he’s turned on by me.
Yes, the whole situation will probably implode, but the thought of backpedaling after what happened last night depresses me.
I think I might go for it. Worst case scenario–I get fired or quit because it ruins things. I got this job–I can find another. Best case–I experience some really hot sex with a famous person and have a story to tell for the rest of my life. It’s like sleeping with a rock star while they’re on tour. I don’t expect I’ll mean anything to him, but it’s a merit badge in life experience.
Brick
Monday, Madison wears the shoes I sent her and another one of those damn window dresses. This time, it’s not quite so demure. Now that she tested me with the outrageous cleavage at the ball, she apparently thinks she can wear a push-up bra with her clingy window dress, and I won’t rip it off and ravish her.