by Meg Ripley
When the doors opened, they revealed yet another lobby. It was sleek and modern, with elegant furniture and massive windows. A slim man in a three-piece suit jumped up from one of the couches and strode forward with his hand extended. With his skinny pants, pointy shoes, and tiny glasses, he was every bit the corporate hipster.
“You must be Lance Rockland. I’m Chuck Burrell, assistant to the CEO. He said he’s already met with you via video conference, but I have to tell you the rest of us have been eager to see what Illinois had to offer us. There’s a rumor you used to be a farmer, and some of the guys were making bets on whether or not you’d show up in overalls and a straw hat.” He laughed nervously.
Lance forced a smile. It was a human joke; not a particularly funny one, but undoubtedly human. “I grew up on a farm; that much is true. But I haven’t lived there in quite some time. I’d appreciate it if you’d show me to my office.” He was ready to get to work and have something to focus on other than The Club.
“Not a problem at all. But, um, if you don’t mind, I thought I would take you around the floor and introduce you to everyone who’ll be working directly beneath you. I know it’s a big company and there’s a lot of work to do, but we like to stay friendly around here.” Chuck smiled and fidgeted with his suit jacket as he gestured to a desk at the other end of the room. “This is Wendy, the receptionist for our floor. She fields phone calls and visitors, and she’s the girl to talk to if you want a certain kind of coffee or doughnuts in the break room.”
Wendy, a girl with wild red hair and a green dress that was far too bright for the corporate world, trembled as she shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Lance gave her a quick nod. He doubted he would hardly speak to this human girl again; he preferred to spend his time locked away in his office without being bothered, and he would be bringing his own coffee machine to put behind his desk as soon as it was possible.
At Chuck’s insistence, they toured through several more offices, where Lance was introduced to senior managers, accountants, and their secretaries and assistants. It wasn’t until they went to the marketing department that Lance found someone worth paying attention to.
“This is Max McLaughlin, senior marketing director. He could sell a glass of water to a drowning man in the blink of an eye,” he laughed. “He used to work for a food corporation I’m not allowed to name, but I’d guarantee you could sing all the jingles to their commercials.”
“You brag about me far too much, Chuck,” Max replied. He was a tall man with broad shoulders, dark eyes and a mischievous grin that brought Lance to attention. There was something about him, an air of superiority that the marketing director wore like a cloak. He felt important, and he really didn’t care about meeting the new CFO of the company any more than Lance wanted to meet him. Still, he put out one meaty hand while slicking the other one back over his jet-black hair. “You just come see me if there’s anything you need, Rockland. I know a lot about this place.”
Lance’s jaw tightened as he shook his hand. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but he picked up on a certain energy from this man that he couldn’t ignore.
Yes, Max McLaughlin would be someone to watch.
Once he’d met the rest of the marketing department, which consisted of even more people he really didn’t care about, Lance was finally guided to his own office. “It’s a great suite,” Chuck explained as he led the way. “It’s on the corner opposite from where I work, so there’s a great view. You have your own private bathroom, and anyone who wants to see you has to go through your assistant’s office first.”
He opened the heavy door. The office inside was warm and inviting, with walls painted a deep mauve and fixtures in golden oak. Lance stopped when he saw the woman behind the desk; he could see her profile as she worked on her computer, a wave of her dark hair coming down to brush against her high cheek bone and angular jaw. She turned to them and smiled, and Lance got the full view of her beauty. Her wide green eyes tipped up at their corners, and her mouth was a constant curl of amusement.
“Sabrina Holland, your assistant.”
She stood, and Lance felt an electrical sensation run through his body. It was the same sort of feeling that took over him when he transformed, and he tensed his muscles to ensure he stayed human. Sabrina wore a deep blue dress that hugged her generous curves, and as she crossed the room to greet him, the scent of her perfume wrapped around Lance like a scarf.
“A pleasure to meet you.” Her tone was business-like, but to Lance’s ears, it fell like a purr.
He had never met a woman quite like this one before. Sure, he had been with human females when he felt a lust that he couldn’t satisfy any other way, but none of them had ever caught his attention like this. They’d been just like any other humans, including the ones who now worked under him at Carlton and Corbin: simply a part of the machine to help get the job done.
But not Sabrina.
Stunned, Lance tried to bring himself back to the moment as he let go of the soft skin of Sabrina’s hand. “You as well. I’ll try not to be too demanding.”
“You can’t be any worse than the previous CFO,” she said out of the corner of her mouth with a wink. “Just don’t tell Chuck I said that. He’s a bit of a kiss-ass.” Her voice was like silk, the vowels smooth and the consonants crisp.
“Hey!” Chuck looked hurt.
Sabrina lifted her delicate shoulders, her hands in the air. “I don’t think my job description says anything about being polite. Come on. Let’s get you settled.” She led the way to a door in the back of her office.
Lance would have been very happy at the size and luxury that his new office afforded, but his new assistant was more intriguing than the large, L-shaped desk, the expansive windows, the flat-screen television mounted on the wall, or the hardwood bookcases. He followed Sabrina inside but kept his eyes on her.
“You’ve got your own coffee station,” she said, gesturing to an expensive machine with a chrome handle in the corner of the room. A set of glass carafes and an arrangement of mugs sat beside it, along with an array of sugar packets. “Take my advice and don’t drink any of the mud Wendy makes. Also, you can’t complain when I step in here for coffee myself. I would have it moved to my office, but there just isn’t room.”
“That’s fine,” Lance assured her. This would save him from bringing in his own machine—and the thought of Sabrina poking her head into his office a few times a day to refill her mug made it all the more enticing.
Chuck stood near the doorway, his arms folded across his chest and his thin lips turned down into a frown. Clearly, he wasn’t pleased about his job being taken over.
“Thanks for your assistance, Chuck.” Lance shook his hand and nodded, dismissing him. He had been annoying since the start, and he wasn’t nearly as interesting as Sabrina. “I’ll be sure to let you know if I need anything else.”
The thin man was eager to please. “Of course. I forgot to show you where my office is. It’s in the exact opposite corner from yours, just down this hallway. And my extension is 465. I’ll be here at least until six tonight—”
“Thanks, Chuck,” Sabrina said firmly from her position near the coffee maker, and with that, he walked away in a huff.
“Don’t mind him,” she advised as she handed Lance a steaming mug of coffee. “He means well, but he’s helpful to the point of being annoying. Don’t ever call him unless you have no other options, or you’ll never hear the end of it.”
Lance accepted the mug and stirred in a packet of demerara sugar. “Sounds like you know the office dynamics pretty well around here.”
Her dark hair had fallen forward as she prepared the drinks, and she shook it back over her shoulders. “I’ve been here for over seven years. I’ve seen executives and secretaries alike come and go. I do my best to mind my own business, but I find that an office is just like a small town. Everyone has their role, and they all like to gossip.”
“Particularly Chuck?�
� he asked, taking a sip of the rich brew. He hadn’t missed her remark about watching what he said.
“Definitely. The CEO knows everything that happens around here, thanks to his loyal assistant.”
“Does that mean you’ll be telling me everything I need to know?” he challenged.
She smiled as she walked to the desk. “Only enough to keep you out of trouble. And I’m not like Chuck at all in the fact that I leave promptly at five. If you want to stay late, then that’s your problem; I don’t pull all-nighters at the office.”
The kind of all-nighter Lance would like to have with her probably wasn’t in the cards, either.
“I took the liberty of gathering up all the reports for the last six months and loading them onto your computer for you. I figured you’d want to look them over. Is there anything else you need from me at the moment?”
Sitting down in the plush chair, Lance got a whole new vantage point on his stunning aide. It was going to be difficult to remain professional during his time here. Sabrina wasn’t like all the other workers he had met; she was real, she was sassy, and she was so gorgeous, it was hard to believe she was human. The way she stood before him, with one slim eyebrow raised and her hips cocked, she looked like she could have been propositioning him just as easily as she was offering to find more reports.
“I think that’s all for now, thank you.”
“No problem.” She sashayed out of the office and closed the door behind her.
Lance leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath.
3
He’d been looking for a distraction from thoughts of the Darkblood Secret Society, and Sabrina had certainly provided that. When he returned to his apartment that night, his mind was trained solely on her. As he unboxed his books and placed them on the shelves, he imagined what it would feel like to run his hands down her ribs to her hips, to cup her tight buttocks, to press her against him, to feel her warm breath against his lips. He unpacked his clothes and hung them in the bedroom closet, picturing himself closing the office door behind her, flicking that lock he had noticed on the handle, bending her over his desk, and lifting the hem of her dress.
His fantasies followed him to work the next day, haunting him as he tried to focus on reports and memos. He couldn’t ignore the way she smiled at him over her mug of coffee or the way her voice sounded when she told him he had a call on line one.
“Aren’t you going out for lunch?” Sabrina asked when she stepped into his office around one o’clock to hand him his mail. “I think most everyone else has gone and come back already.”
“I took advantage of the mini fridge and brought my own,” he said, gesturing to the appliance next to the coffee station. “I have a lot of work to get done, so I figured I wouldn’t waste my time.”
She set the stack of envelopes on the corner of his desk. “I see. You’re the kind to work yourself to death. Well, that’s up to you, but you should really check out the little café around the corner. I’ll go with you sometime and show you all the good stuff.”
The idea of lunch with Sabrina—especially with her showing him “the good stuff”—lit Lance on fire. He tried to keep his focus on her face instead of her breasts as he pulled the pile of mail toward him. Her blouse fit tightly around her chest, and she had left just enough buttons undone to suggest what was underneath. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She crossed the room to the coffee machine and poured herself another cup. She had already been in there three times that day, and every time had been like torture. “Great. Don’t forget we have a staff meeting tomorrow morning. Nobody will expect much from you, since you’re new, but it’ll give you an idea of what we usually do. I’ll be there with you if you have any questions.” She twirled toward the door and was gone.
Lance stared at the closed door, wondering how long he could carry on this way. Sabrina was able to create not just an interest within him, but an urge. He wanted her with a hunger that gnawed at him from the inside. Even when she had safely ensconced herself in her office, he still knew she was there on the other side of the door. It was as though he could read her heat signature right through the wall, but of course he couldn’t do that while he was human.
Listlessly, Lance flicked through the mail. There were catalogs for office equipment addressed to his predecessor, advertisements from insurance companies, and a coupon for ten dollars off a haircut. Most of this he cast aside, but the last piece of mail made him sit up. The paper of the envelope looked like old parchment, a deep cream color that accented the dark red seal holding it shut. The image in the wax was a twisted dragon, the same logo he had seen outside The Club.
With his heart pounding, Lance broke the seal.
Tonight. 9:30.
While it wasn’t any sort of formal invitation written in calligraphy like he might have expected, he couldn’t complain; The Darkblood Secret Society had finally decided to let him come back. His shoulder blades itched with anticipation, hoping he would get a chance to shift again. It had only been a few days since he had arrived in the city, but those precious few moments as a dragon at The Club simply weren’t enough.
Still, there was no telling just what the members had in store for him. He hadn’t expected to be tested and then thrown out on the street the other night, but it didn’t leave him with any good guesses as to what the reason for the invitation might be.
All he could do was wait and see.
The rest of the work day ticked by slowly, full of reports and financial analyses. Lance struggled through, trying desperately to train his thoughts on his work. When Sabrina next came through the door, he’d hardly made any progress.
“I just thought I’d let you know I’m heading home,” she said with a friendly smile. She had a little black purse in one hand and a travel mug in the other. “I won’t give you this kind of warning on a regular basis, though. I’m only doing it because you’re new.” Sabrina winked at him from the doorway.
She wasn’t distracting him quite like she had been earlier in the day; he had far too many things on his mind. “Have a good evening.”
“Don’t stay too late, okay? I’d hate to see you keel over from a heart attack like the last guy.”
Lance looked up at her, startled, but she was laughing.
“I’m sorry. I have to cheer myself somehow, don’t I?”
This gave him pause. In the short time he had known her, Sabrina had always seemed happy. He now noticed the faint glow in her eyes, as though she was holding back tears.
“Is there something wrong?” He didn’t know what might possibly have affected her sunny disposition, but it sent a boiling anger through his bloodstream. His muscles tensed, ready to jump up and fight, but he forced himself to stay seated.
“Oh, no. Of course not. Just a little office humor. See you in the morning!” Sabrina forced a smile and left.
It seemed like it had been an entire day since he had received the invitation from The Club, but when Lance finally found himself on the sidewalk in front of the unassuming building once again, he had more energy than he knew what to do with. He studied the doors, flat and without a handle, knowing that just on the other side of them lay his new future. Finally, he stepped forward and knocked.
Bruno swung the door wide to admit him, casting a suspicious glance up and down the sidewalk before closing it again. “Come with me.”
“What, no blindfold this time?” Lance joked. “That’s a nice change of pace.”
The bouncer frowned at him, clearly displeased by having to allow him inside the fortress. “Be careful, newbie. You’re walking a thin line tonight.” He guided him to a long staircase, surrounded in stone.
Even though he hadn’t seen it before, Lance knew these were the same stairs he had climbed during his previous visit. It was much easier when he was allowed to see his feet, and he followed Bruno all the way up through the building and down several hallways. The place was built like an old castle, with flaming sconces lighting t
he way. One hall was completely lined with mirrors, forcing the occupants to look at themselves as they progressed. Lance felt that he looked entirely too human.
The door at the end of the hall swung open silently. “Lance Rockland is here to see you, Mr. Cross.”
Seated in the same place Lance had seen him before, Mr. Cross steepled his fingers in front of him. “Please, have a seat.”
“I appreciate you inviting me back,” Lance began as he sat down. The chair was deep and comfortable; there seemed to be little in this place that wasn’t made of pure luxury. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure where this was going to go after last time.”
“I’m still not sure where it’s going,” Mr. Cross interrupted sharply as he produced a small card from his jacket pocket. “This is your temporary membership. If anyone questions you, and it’s quite possible they will, you just show it to them.”
Lance took the card. It was thick and had an aged look to it, just like the invitation he had received at the office. His own name had been carefully inked with a fountain pen, along with the date.
“Thank you, I—”
“I let the members vote on whether or not to let you in.” Mr. Cross stood abruptly and crossed the room to the window, where he stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “It’s not often that we meet someone new, you know. The Darkblood Society has been operating for a long time, and we pride ourselves on knowing about all the shifters in the Northeast. I’m sure you can understand that your arrival the other day was a bit of a surprise to us. Still, you showed that you are certainly one of us, and we’d like to give you a chance. I’ll warn you that not everyone voted to do so, and you very well may make enemies here.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Lance rubbed his hand over his chin. Mr. Cross was the type of man who liked to be in charge at all costs. It was the sort of personality flaw that was irritating on a daily basis but that probably kept his ownership of The Club safe. Dragons weren’t always cooperative, and he wasn’t going to put up with insubordination from anyone.