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)
“I also have these.” Caroline produces a pair of white go-go boots. “If you and Madi want to add a little Nancy Sinatra to your set.”
“Oh wow,” I laugh. “Why not? Can I borrow these?”
“Keep them,” Caroline says at the same time Jan says, “They’re yours.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. “You’re not going to want them back to wear? You know, just for a night on the town?” I waggle my brows at Caroline, who grins.
Jan snorts. “Those days are over.”
“Well, anytime you want them back for karaoke or something, say the word.” I gather up the amazing jacket and go-go boots, imagining the outfits I could wear on stage. I’ll show them to Madi on Thursday.
Jamie turns up, and the mood turns sober. She looks more haggard than when I first met her, with dark circles under her eyes. Her clothes are rumpled, too. Whistleblowing is stressful, and on top of that, she hasn’t found a new job. Even if Sentience hasn’t retaliated further, she must be lying awake at night wondering what will happen next.
“Here’s the hard drive.” I produce the computer drive from my satchel and put it in the center of the round work table. This back office is where Jan works weekends and evenings, and this table has also been the planning ground for at least a hundred social protests, starting long before I picked up a marker and created my first protest sign.
“What is this?” Jan asks.
Jamie picks it up. “This is a copy of my work computer’s hard drive. From this, I can produce all the evidence you need.”
Jan looks between me and Jamie. “But how did you get it?”
I shrug. “I might have stopped by her old office while I was painting a mural for Sentience.”
Jan’s eyes widen. “You know I can’t use anything obtained illegally as evidence in a trial, right?”
“Then we can send it over to the New York Times,” I point out.
“But you can’t use it in a lawsuit?” Jamie asks.
Jan shakes her head. “Any bit of info you provide can help us subpoena the company's executives, but we can’t use this as evidence. Not unless you find a way to legally be in possession of this information. But maybe you have a copy of something you’ll find on here.” She flicks her brows at Jamie.
“Got it.” Jamie nods. She sends me a grateful look. “Thank you so much for getting this. You risked a lot.”
“I hope it yields something.” I sure as hell don’t want to take the risk again, but I will if I have to. It takes courage to fight against giants.
I catch the sound of someone ringing the bell at the cash register, and I jump up. “I’ll get it.” I hustle out to the cafe and then immediately slow my roll when I see who it is.
This is not a man I will hustle for.
Ever.
“Are you lost?” I repeat the question I asked the first time this entitled alpha-hole came in here. The time he stole the photo of Madi and me right off the bulletin board behind the counter and used it to get Madi fired.
Irritation–a habitual expression for this jackal–flicks over William White the third’s face.
He looks down his nose at me. He’s not quite as tall as his best friend, Brick, but still close to six feet. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in a billionaire’s suit. He’s the type of man women cream their panties over, but his rank personality spoils the look.
Instead of going behind the counter to serve him, I stroll around to the front. His business isn’t welcome here.
As I get close, he turns to face me, his expression screwed up like I smell bad.
“What do you want?” I demand since he still hasn’t answered my first question.
A sour look mars his otherwise beautiful face. “We need to talk.”
Color me surprised. I can’t imagine what he thinks we need to talk about. Brick and Madi are happily engaged. He doesn’t need to offer me half a million dollars to get her to see him like he did the last time he stepped in La Résistance.
“Do we?” I keep my voice cool.
There’s something about his large, imposing form and the force of power that emanates from him that has me wondering what it would be like to be underneath him. Would he be rough? Cold? Would he want his date on top doing all the work?
Or is he the kind of guy who just pays for blowjobs to keep it completely unemotional?
I’m curious about what his type is. When he picks a woman–and I’m sure he could pick any woman in New York–does he go for the vapid model type? A long-legged blonde with zero brain cells and a shopping habit? Or a blue-blooded Harvard type–smart and horse-faced with a pedigree that goes back farther than his?