by Ella Goode
I spin around. “Seriously, this is a mistake. I’m going to take myself out of the running. We all know that this is not a good fit. In fact, this is your job, and if you aren’t leaving, there’s no reason I should be hired. I’m going to—”
Whatever I was going to say flees my mind when the door behind the secretary opens and the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen walks out. He’s not very tall, probably only a couple inches over my own five foot eight inches, but his face is a perfect oval. He has longish bangs that are swept to the side and piercing dark eyes.
“Hey,” I say weakly and wave a hand in his direction. Maybe I’ll take this job after all, if this is who I have to work for. Bring on the cuffs and collars.
“Good morning.” He glides. I hold out my hand, and he starts to take it, but a growl behind me has him jerking back. I cast a dark glance at the bodyguard to my left, who glares right back. The glorious man in front of me clears his throat.
“You must be Bellamy Beaumont.” He bows slightly. “I’m Cairns. Thank you for coming. Mr. Garrett is indisposed right now, but he asked that I take you to lunch. By the time we’re done, he should be ready to see you.”
“Sure. That’d be great.” Then his words land. “Wait, you’re not Mr. Garrett?”
“No, I’m his second—I’m his deputy,” he finishes smoothly, but I noticed the pause, as if he started to say something he wasn’t supposed to. I don’t know what all is going on here, but no matter how attractive the workforce is, I don’t think I belong.
I smile regretfully. “I was just telling your admin here that I’m not right for this job.”
Chapter Two
Him
I hear the noise from the outer office, but the voices are distant, unimportant. Just a mumble of conversation I couldn’t give less than a shit about. Nothing can distract from the agony of the wolf tearing away, trying to claw his way out.
The wolf growls, lunges.
I brace my hands on my desk, knuckles turning white with pressure. I force the wolf back, my lips pulling back in a snarl. NO!
I’m not giving in to my beast. Not today.
An endless instant where the wolf strains against my will, trying to wrest control away from me. A fight for dominance that has been steadily getting worse until I’m no longer sure who will be the victor. But for now I’m still stronger…barely.
The wolf finally backs down, growling all the time. I know he will not give up—it’s not in his nature, but neither is it in me to give in. For the time being at least, I can now relax. I slump back in my chair in exhaustion…and relief. My claws have receded, and I run a hand over my face, grimacing as I feel the bristly stubble against my palm. Not the image I usually like to present as the head of the BMI corporation.
The struggle to keep my wolf leashed is taking its toll on me as well as my pack. I haven’t slept well in months and have lost weight. Running BMI, much less the pack, is a full-time job, and ever since my wolf has been fighting for dominance, a lot has been pushed to the back burner, including my personal grooming. Not that it seems to matter to females—they still want to screw the Alpha, even when he looks like shit.
But my battle with my wolf has taken all my energy, even for fucking. I can’t even remember the last time I fucked, or who with. Ever since my wolf decided he wanted to be in control, it’s been one constant struggle, with no time for anything else.
My wolf is strong, the strongest in the pack, which is why I’m the Alpha. His strength has enhanced mine, and we’ve been lifelong allies—until now. I don’t know why he’s suddenly turned rabid and tried to bite me in the balls, but I’m sure as fuck tired of it.
I give my head a sharp shake and try to concentrate on the contract in front of me. Land adjacent to pack property has just come up for sale, and I want to buy it. Problem is that one of the pack went a little crazy and tore up the vineyard a few years back. Now the landowner, Mr. Potts, is operating under the sell to anyone but the troublemakers next door policy. The words swim in front of my eyes as the beast inside crouches, snarls.
“Got a minute, Garrett?” Cairns, the beta, steps in.
“What?” I snap.
“Looking a little tense, aren’t you?” He slows, stopping short of my desk. His keeps his eyes down. My beast is so close to the surface that any stray eye contact would be read as a challenge. “That’s the second desk you’ve ruined in the last month.”
I drop my own gaze. I barely noticed my fingers elongating into black, razor-sharp claws that dig into the surface of my desk, the mahogany gouged beyond repair.
The noises outside my office seem to be escalating, and now that I’m back in control, I can hear more clearly—particularly a new female voice. My keen ears pick up a strain of panic edging her words.
“What’s going on out there?” I jerk my head toward the outside office, and my wolf bristles in response.
Cairns shrugs, his head still slightly bowed. “I found something the other day. I think you’ll like her.”
My sneer turns into a grimace of agony as my wolf suddenly surges. What the—! It’s the first time the attacks have been so close together. I growl, rage filling me. I hit the desk with my fist with all my strength, and the wood groans and cracks. Pain shoots up my arm, but I barely feel it as my wolf snaps and bites, and then he lunges. I grab the ruined desk again, and a howl emerges from my throat. Red followed by black washes over my eyes.
Dimly, I hear Cairns yell, “Oh, shit! Plume, get your ass in here! He’s having a meltdown!”
I bare my teeth and leap over the desk. Cairns drops and rolls onto his back. Footsteps charge down the terrace. My wolf senses threats on all sides. I place a heel on Cairn’s neck and feel the change come over me.
The beast is back.
Her
“I think I’d like to leave now.” My mouth’s dry, but my hands are sweaty. Go figure. I smooth them against my skirt. “This isn’t what I thought it was.” You all aren’t what I thought you were.
Pretty Boy ignores my request.
“Why don’t you wait in Garrett’s office.” His hand clamps under my right elbow, not painfully but insistently, and steers me toward the door.
I dig the heels of my flats into the heavy carpet. “Nah, I’m good. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to work here.”
I barely have the words out of my mouth when I find my feet completely off the ground. I look to my left and find “Mike” the security guard, who’d said I was perfect, with his hand under my left elbow. The two of them are holding me up by my elbows! Immediately, I start to struggle.
“Let me go!” I kick my feet and try to wriggle free, but their hands are like steel cages. The traitorous secretary hurries forward and opens the door. “This is kidnapping. I’m going to have you arrested!”
All three ignore my yells. The two men drop me once we’re inside the office, and faster than I can say “wait,” the secretary and Mike, the goon, have left. The door thuds closed behind them. I lunge for the door and tug on it, except the damn block of wood doesn’t move. I twist the knob, but there’s absolutely no give to it.
I yank one more time and then give in, kicking the door in frustration. Whirling, I confront Pretty Boy. “My parents know I’m here. You can’t keep me in here and do stuff to me.”
He raises both eyebrows. “What is it that you think we’re going to do?”
“I don’t know. Obviously nothing good or you’d let me go. No admin is paid six figures for answering phones and filing papers. If you let me go, I won’t go to the police. We’ll chalk this up to a big misunderstanding and go our separate ways.” My stomach is in knots. I clench my fists at my sides and look around for weapons. There’s a couple of paintings of big dogs on the wall. There are two huge leather sofas. On the coffee table between the sofas there’s a big wooden bowl full of apples. I guess I can hurl apples at Pretty Boy? But what good does that do if I can’t get the door open?
Pretty Boy pulls a phone
out of his pocket and lays it on the table.
“What’s that?” I ask suspiciously.
“Call your parents.” And then he’s gone.
I stare at the door he just exited through. How is it that these people move so damn fast? I try the door again, but while Pretty Boy, the secretary, and Mike, the goon, can all open and close the door, I can’t even move the door handle.
There’s a trick to this. I go to the coffee table near the door and run my hands around the edges. I poke and prod, listening for a latch or a lock or whatever it is that I’m supposed to hear when I tap my fist against the wood.
After a minute of fruitless searching, I give up and dig my phone out of my bag, ignoring the one Pretty Boy left behind. I press my mother’s number.
“Hello?”
“Mom.” I sag against the door in relief. “Where are you?”
“We’re on our way back to town.”
“Turn around. Or call the police and then turn around.”
“Why would we do that?” she laughs. Only it’s not a real laugh. It’s a forced one.
The hand holding the phone starts to shake. I grab my wrist to steady it. “Because they’ve locked me in a room and I can’t get out. I don’t want to work here. I don’t even think that they have a real job for me. There’s a woman here who’s already working as the admin. Please, come and get me.”
“You really need to be less hysterical, sweetheart. It’s just a job.”
“Mom, they’re holding me here against my will. They put me in an office and I can’t open the door!” I slam my hand against the wooden frame for emphasis, which is stupid because she can’t see, plus I hurt my hand. I cradle the thing in my lap and try to penetrate my mom’s dense skull. “Please,” I beg. “Please, come and get me.”
“I’m sorry, but we’re almost to town, and it’s such a long drive out there. Why don’t you spend the night—”
“Spend the night?” I jump to my feet. “This is a job. You work certain hours and then you go home.”
“If you still hate it in a few days, we’ll come out then. Okay?”
A few days? Is she cracked in the head? “No. That’s not okay. You need—”
“You’ll be fine. Just do as they say and we’ll, I mean, you will get paid handsomely.”
“Mom—”
“Take care.”
Click.
I can’t believe this. I toss the phone to the side. Fear gets shoved aside as anger rises up. Of course my self-absorbed parents aren’t going to turn their car around and drive here to pick me up. That’s expected from them. The breakfast, the fancy car, the ride out here—that’s the unusual bit.
Fine. If they aren’t going to help me, then I’ll help myself. I take in my surroundings. Besides the dog paintings—no, I think they’re actually wolves—and the big leather sofa, there’s a massive desk at one end. I run to it and start pulling on the drawers.
None of them open. I’m about to turn away when my eyes catch sight of long, deep gouges on the polished wood of the desk. They look strange, like someone used a sharp stick or rod and ran them down the grain. Curious, I run a tentative finger down one of the gouges and yelp when a splinter catches the tip. Definitely not something you’d expect to find on such an expensive desk.
The fear is back. It’s climbing up my throat, raising the hairs on my neck. I rub my hands briskly along my arms and weigh my options. I can’t get the door open. There appear to be no other exits. However…I pivot away from the paneled walls to stare out the bank of windows. The entire back of this office is one plate glass window after the other.
I cross the room and realize that the windows are actually doors. Outside, there’s a small terrace that appears to run the entire length of the building. I try the latches, but they’re like the door handle—immovable.
An idea occurs to me. I race back to the desk and grab the empty trashcan. I heave it toward the window. I raise my arms to prevent shards of glass striking my face. Only nothing happens. I look up and see the trashcan lying on my feet, and the window? That’s in perfect shape.
“It’s bulletproof,” says a deep voice behind me.
I jump about three feet in the air and scream so loud that the glass, if it wasn’t bulletproof, should’ve shattered. “Where the hell did you come from?” I screech, a hand over my chest to make sure my heart doesn’t leap out of my body and flop onto the floor. The man standing in front of me is massive. Tall as a tree with wide shoulders and a narrow waist. A waist he emphasizes when he plants his hands on his hips.
“The bathroom.”
“There’s a bathroom here?” I try to peer around him, but his frame is so big that I have to lean over to see anything. A light spills out from a break in the paneling. The entrance to the bathroom is cleverly disguised as another panel inside a frame made out of molding.
“It’s over there.” The man jerks his chin toward the wall behind him. It’s a fine chin. Strong, square, and a perfect match for the chiseled cheekbones. And currently stubbled in the most attractive way.
I feel an inappropriate stirring in my belly. Pretty Boy outside is better looking, but this man has it. That indefinable essence that makes you want to snap your heels together and salute. Or, in some cases, fall on your back and spread your legs.
I’m not doing either. I want to get out of here, stirrings be damned.
“Yes. Why are you here?” he asks. His tone is suspicious, as if I crawled in here uninvited and was rooting around in his desk looking for company secrets.
My jaw drops. “Are you mad that I’m in your office? I was dragged in here and left with someone’s phone! I’m happy to leave.” I march over to the door and tug. It goes nowhere. I glare pointedly at the doorknob. “Just open the door and I’m gone.”
His eyes narrow. Then he does something strange. He sniffs. He visibly and audibly inhales. A change falls over him, like a curtain falling or shutters being drawn.
“Ellen!” he roars.
Two seconds later the door I can’t move pops open and the secretary appears. Ellen is her name, I guess.
“Yes, Mr. Garrett?”
“What’s she doing here?” He points an outraged finger in my direction.
“Dude, if anyone has the right to be mad, it’s me!” I yell back. And then it hits me. The door’s open. I make a mad dash for it, but before I can reach my freedom, Ellen has moved completely inside and has placed herself in front of the door.
I slide to the right, but she blocks me. I try going left, but she’s there again. “Ellen, your boss doesn’t want me here.”
She looks past me. “Mr. Garrett, this is Bellamy Beaumont. Cairns found her last night and approached her guardians. We arranged for them to be compensated and here she is. It’s to address your…situation.”
“I’m right here.” I wave my hand. “I can not only hear everything you say, but I’m recording it, too.” That last bit’s a lie, but they don’t know that.
“She…I told you not to do this anymore.” He sounds agitated.
“You’ve done this before?” Oh. My. God. Am I in the presence of some kind of serial killer? Is that why there are collars and cuffs? To keep his victims imprisoned? I feel close to hyperventilating. At this point I’ll weep for joy if this is just a porn film set.
“It’s not going to work,” he continues, as if I didn’t say anything. As if he didn’t just admit to kidnapping and holding other women hostage.
“It will. Cairns is confident—”
“Cairns would stuff a blow-up doll in here if he thought it would fool me.” The man stalks over and grabs my arm, spinning me around. I lean away, but he sticks his nose in my neck and sniffs again. “Christ, where did Cairns get this scent you’re wearing?”
“I’m not wearing perfume,” I spit out. I’m secretly impressed that my voice only trembles just a bit. “I don’t like the stuff.”
I jerk away, and to my surprise, he lets me go. I stumble back, nearly falling
, but the man catches me and hauls me upright.
“Stop lying,” he growls.
The rumble resonates in my blood, making my knees weak and my head light. I don’t like this. I don’t like any of this.
“Let me go.” I plead. “I’ll take me and my smelly self away. Just let me go.”
His hand, the one he used to keep me from falling, tightens around my biceps. “I don’t think I can.”
Chapter Three
Him
There’s some trickery afoot. This human smells too good. As if she were made for me. Cairns has gone too far this time. It’s one thing to invite outside pack women to throw themselves at me but an entirely different issue when it’s a human.
She feels fragile and breakable under my grip. One flick of my wrist and her head would snap off. The girl was too weak to even open the door. I force my fingers to release her. The wolf howls in protest.
She stumbles back, a hand at her delicate throat. Involuntarily, my fingers lift to my nose. Her scent is all over my hand.
I strain against the urge to grab her back in my arms and run my tongue up the column of her neck to get a taste of her. She smells like wild honey and crushed berries—juicy and succulent. My mouth waters just imagining the taste. I don’t even know if this is the wolf’s response or mine.
“I’d like to leave, if you don’t mind,” she says.
The wolf snarls, but I’m in control now. Cairns shoved a needle full of diluted tranquilizer into my foot. It dulled the beast enough to allow five of my pack to slip a silver collar around my neck and shove me into the lead and silver cage in the floor of my bathroom.
Once I’d calmed down and shifted back, it was easy enough to remove all the restraints. They weren’t designed to imprison a person—only a beast until the man could take over again.
“Sit.” I point to the sofa.
“I think I’ll stand.”
I move as far away from her as possible. If I could stand in the bathroom and still address her, I would. I need distance.