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)
This choice was not strategic, though.
“No,” I admit the truth. “I did it because it was hot.”
“It was hot,” he agrees, and my heart races. After another pause–this one not as awkward, he says, “Just so we’re clear, I would’ve made your life a living hell if you had.”
“You already make my life a living hell.”
“Oh, Ms. Evans, you haven’t seen anything. The gloves are still on where you’re concerned. You don’t want to see me when I’m out for blood.”
A tingle runs up my spine. The gloves are on where I’m concerned. Does that mean I’m special to him?
“Leave it to you to ruin what could’ve been construed as our first nice conversation.”
“I don’t do nice, Peek-a-boobs. But I want you to know you’re safe. I’ll keep my dick in my pants from now on.”
I shouldn’t be disappointed. This can’t go on any longer.
“Goodnight,” he says. Another first for him–he usually ends calls without any closure.
I hold the phone away from my face and look at the screen with a goofy smile. He’s already hung up. “Go-goodnight?” I let out a nervous laugh. “Well, that was weird,” I say to the empty apartment.
Huh. Blackthroat is still a royal dick, but something happened between us. Something more than sex. I’m gooey and warm inside and trying to get rid of the traitorous part of me that believes what we just exchanged was special.
And to keep myself from those very dangerous thoughts, I go back to review the part that matters.
He regretted having sex with me and promised it wouldn’t happen again.
This wasn’t the beginning of something nor really an end.
It was a one-off.
A story for the storybooks, nothing more.
My heart can stay safely locked down, and my job is intact.
Why then, do I feel so disappointed?
Chapter Eighteen
Brick
“What did you find out about the connection to the Harringtons and my assistant?” I ask Sully as I take the elevator up to my floor Tuesday.
“I’m still looking into it, but I’m guessing you were right–Brett Harrington and Denise Evans–Madison’s mom–were at Harvard together.”
I grunt in reply. My sense of smell never lies.
“I’ll get you a definitive as soon as I can.”
“Good.”
Sully gets off on his floor, and I continue to the fifty-fifth and step off the elevator.
I know Madison is here by her intoxicating spiced orange scent before my gaze meets hers. I see her every day, yet it’s all changed now. I’ve been inside her. Seen her sweet face when she comes. Know what kind of panties she wears--a silky black thong that will forever be imprinted on my brain.
And yet we put that to rest. It won’t be happening again. From a scandal standpoint, I appear to have dodged a bullet. Also from a legal standpoint, not that I think she could’ve won any case against me.
After her scent and the flash of insecurity in her gaze, I note her dress.
Unbelievably, she’s wearing another fucking window.
Wordlessly, I point at her, then point to my office as I stride by.
She gets up and follows me in.
I cast a baleful glance at the window cutout in her dress. I’m already having a hard time not tracing my own finger around its outline the way she so loves to do. Now that I’ve touched her, I seem to think I have the right to do it again.
My nostrils flare as her scent hits me square in the chest and travels southward. If I were honest with myself, I’d acknowledge it was one of the reasons I summoned her into my office rather than having an exchange at her desk. I want her scent to linger after she leaves.
Or maybe I want to have her spreadeagle on top of my desk.
“Why am I still seeing boobs?” I demand.
“Because I’m unfireable.”
So she thinks. Except she’s right. I’m not about to fire her. I can’t even stand not seeing her on weekends anymore.
“Okay.” I shove my hands in my pockets and pace away from her to aid my resistance. “You won this battle. Is that what you need to hear? You won, Madi. Now stop wearing the damn dresses.”
“Wouldn’t want to make you do something you regret, right?” I catch a slight sourness in her voice, and it makes me turn to study her face.
Did I hurt her with that comment? Fuck. I never meant it that way.
“Is that why you’re pissed?” No longer able to keep my distance, I walk over, pick her up, and set her on my desk. She lifts her chin in a show of defiance that I regrettably find adorable. “Listen to me. You’re the first assistant in all the years I’ve had this company that I can stand. So I don’t want to fuck that up because I can’t keep my dick in my pants around you. That’s why I said I regretted it. And also because I was concerned that I’d taken advantage.”