Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Bracken didn’t seem bothered. He was busy watching the news on the wall-mounted TV. Although the volume was low, his shifter-enhanced hearing allowed Bracken to hear it perfectly, despite the continual ringing of the receptionist’s phone and the noises coming from the children in the toy corner.
Zander had received a text message from Shelby informing him that she wouldn’t be coming. He wasn’t particularly surprised. He was also glad, because it meant she wouldn’t have to deal with Rory.
With an inward sigh, Zander threw the newspaper he’d skimmed through back onto the coffee table. The young receptionist tried to catch his eye, but he didn’t play the game. His mind was on other things. Like the reading of the will. Like how likely it was that Rory would be an ass. And like the question of whether Nick would sanction Zander’s and Bracken’s requests to stay in Oregon for a while.
He didn’t doubt that his Alpha would sympathize with Gwen and the female shifter’s situation, but Nick’s priority was the pack’s safety—especially since that pack included his mate and daughter. Also, Nick didn’t like outsiders; he wouldn’t put one before the needs of his pack, no matter the seriousness of the situation.
The front door swung open, and in walked a male with the same face that Zander saw every day in the mirror. Rory looked smart and immaculately neat with his slicked hair, black suit, shiny shoes, and briefcase. He also looked amused as his gaze found Zander, like Rory knew something that he didn’t.
Rory introduced himself to the receptionist, who blushed as she assured him that she’d alert the attorney of his arrival. He then strode over to Zander, halting in front of him. “Hello, brother.” It was a taunt, not a greeting.
Zander’s wolf lunged for him, upper lip curled back. He’d happily rip the male to pieces and not give a shit about it. Zander held him back and didn’t rise to Rory’s taunt. Instead, he spoke in a toneless voice that gave Rory no emotion to work with or exploit. “Rory.”
He cocked his head. “How’re things?”
“Good.”
Rory’s eyes cut to Bracken, who was pointedly ignoring him—something he’d been doing since they were kids. Rory’s mouth tightened at the clear dismissal, but he slid his gaze back to Zander and said, “I’m glad to hear it. Things are good on my end too. Work is good, life is good. I actually have plans to expand my business.” He talked about his job, boasted of his new contracts, spoke of his “newest piece of fluff”—his words.
He was so caught up in chatting about himself that he didn’t notice the bored look Bracken exchanged with Zander, despite the enforcer not being the least bit subtle about it.
The opening of a door was soon followed by footsteps shuffling down the hallway. Finally, a suited middle-aged male appeared. “Zander and Rory Devlin?”
“That’s us,” Rory confirmed with a smile as they walked toward him.
Zander took in the male’s scent. Fox shifter. His wolf growled; he wasn’t a fan of foxes.
“I’m Edward Simpson, your uncle’s attorney.” He shook each of their hands, his expression sympathetic. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Rory swallowed hard. “Thank you. We’ll miss him.”
Bracken snickered only loud enough to reach shifter ears, and Rory’s face hardened as he tossed the enforcer a dark look that was completely ignored.
Rory turned to Zander. “I’m surprised Jesse’s not here to console you too.”
Zander didn’t rise to the snarky remark, which only pissed the prick off.
Edward cleared his throat. “Please come with me.” He led them down a hallway and into an office. With its white walls and gray carpet, the room was sterile. It was also obsessively tidy. Each item of stationery seemed to have its own place on the desk. The stacks of papers were perfectly aligned beneath the dolphin paperweight. The files and binders on the shelves were in alphabetical order.
There didn’t appear to be even a speck of dust, and Zander got the feeling that the attorney would have an aneurysm if he found one. Maybe that was why the guy had a stress ball next to his coffee mug and why the astringent scent of hand sanitizer was so strong—fairly drowning out the other smells of paper, ink, and coffee.
Edward gestured at the padded plastic chairs opposite his desk. “Please sit.” He then moved to the file cabinet, on which a framed photo of a woman and two children rested. Pulling out a slim folder, he closed the drawer.
Tension stretched the air taut; Zander and Rory remained so still that only the whirring of the fan and the shuffling of papers could be heard.
Sitting, Edward rolled his wheeled office chair closer to the desk and opened the folder. “I realize that reading the will aloud in an attorney’s office isn’t how things are usually done anymore. But your uncle was adamant that he wanted things handled this way. He attached a letter to his last will and testament, and he asked that I read it aloud first.”