Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Ah. Of course.”
“All arrangements should be charged to my personal gold card. We’re looking at the week of the wedding.”
Annabeth nods. “Taking the company jet?”
“Yes.” The one with enclosed sleeping beds.
I know nothing about bachelor parties, but I’m suddenly picturing the party starting on the jet. Champagne flowing. Music pumping. Aubrey removing her clothes like a stripper who pops out of a cake.
No. No, no, no. That’s so wrong. Aubrey will not be the bachelor party entertainment. No one will be watching her strip.
Unless it’s me. In the private sleeping pod.
“How long will you stay?”
“You determine what is ideal.” Now I’m picturing Aubrey in a white string bikini, her skin sun-warmed on the beach. Her nutmeg and honey scent would carry a salty taste. My dick starts to harden.
I clear my throat and try to push the image out of my mind. “We’ll need a few days to enjoy the beach, as well as the nightlife.”
“Understood. Number of guests?”
“Ms. Evans will provide a list.” I walk away before Annabeth sees me tugging at my tie to cool my neck.
Irritation spikes as I enter my office.
The desire to make the annoying human pay for being so colorful. So larger than life. So fucking all-consuming eats at me.
I pull my phone out and hit her number.
“William White the Third.” She bites off the consonants in my distinguished name, loading it with sarcasm.
My cock gets hard picturing her tossing her hair and smirking like calling out my full name is some kind of insult.
“Cafe Girl.”
“Is that what you call me?”
“I don’t call you anything. But you can call me ‘boss.’” She did take a commission from me, after all.
She scoffs. “You’re not my boss. I’m an independent contractor. And I haven’t even started.”
“That’s why I’m calling. I need to know when you’re starting.”
She hesitates. “I have to go back to Sentience tonight.”
There’s a thread of tension in her voice I don’t understand. But it also doesn’t make sense that she’s painting a mural for them. They seem like exactly the kind of company she’d thumb her nose at.
“I thought you were finished.”
“I just need to paint a top coat to make sure it lasts.”
“At night?”
Something about this feels wrong.
“I’m a part-time student. Besides, I like being there when no one else is.”
That part rings true and makes sense. But my wolf doesn’t like the idea of her being there alone at night. Walking to the subway afterward. Walking home from the subway.
“How late?” I demand.
“What?”
“How late will you stay? How long will it take?”
“Why?” She sounds annoyed now.
“I’ll pick you up.”
“No, thanks.”
I end the call, too irritated to negotiate further. I’m losing my touch. It’s usually easy for me to manipulate any situation to get what I want. For some reason, I lose all rationale with this absurd female.
I cock my arm back to hurl my phone at the wall then restrain myself and grind my teeth instead.
I will have that little temptress on her knees begging for my cock by the time I’m through. I hold that vision as my end goal. This may be a long game, but it’s a game I will win.
Because coming from behind to steal the entire game is where I excel.
My father never saw it coming.
Aubrey Cook thinks she is impervious. Immune. Uninterested.
She will soon find out just how wrong she is.
Chapter Nine
Aubrey
I don’t know how long I can dawdle here pretending I’m still sealing up this damn mural. I mean, how many coats of invisible sealing does it really require?
That’s what Jack, the security guard, just asked me.
“That was the last one.” I wipe the brush on the side of the polyurethane can to clean it.
I didn’t run my plan by Jan because I think she would’ve said not to do it. That’s what she told me when I first volunteered to get the contents of Jamie’s hard drive.
What I’m contemplating tonight is even harder. I have to steal a keycard? This is nuts. But it might be doable. Especially with Jack’s omnipresence.
His keycard is hanging out of his pocket. All I have to do is distract him and pull it out.
“I’m going to get cleaned up here, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Oh no, I don’t mind you here at all,” he’s quick to say. “I’m just fascinated by your process here.”
Or my ass. But whatever. I don’t mind his interest. It’s going to play in my favor in a minute here.
I put the brush on the paint roller tray with the roller and pick it up. “I’m just going to wash this stuff out, and then I’ll be on my way.”
“Sure. I’ll walk you down.”
Such a gentleman.
As I brush past him, I let the roller slide off the tray. “Whoops!”
He immediately stoops to pick it up. I bump into his hip, reaching at the same time with my right hand. As I jostle him, I tug on the lanyard hanging out of his pocket and tuck the card in my back pocket.