by Sylvia Frost
“Your stepmother was the woman you were running from last night?” His voice was painstakingly neutral.
“Yeah. I wasn’t supposed to be at the party.”
“You were supposed to be at that party. I invited you.”
A bitter laugh. “Along with every other female entrepreneur in Manhattan. What was that about anyway?”
His hand twitched in hers, but he otherwise ignored her question. “Why didn’t your stepmother want you at the party?”
Cynthia sighed. “She wanted me to forget about this company and get a real job. Among other things.”
“Should I have her killed?”
This startled Cynthia enough to look up, and then she rolled her eyes with a wry grin when she realized his blue eyes were twinkling with mirth. Although not completely. The longer she looked, the larger and darker his pupils became.
“I think you should stick to making jokes about bottle caps.”
One of their cheap office chairs creaked as he leaned toward her. She kept waiting for a grin to twitch at the corner of his lips, but it never did.
“Cynthia, come here.” The force of his command pulled her like a puppet on a string. Her heart wouldn’t let her disobey.
She was so tired of taking care of everyone else’s nonsense; it was nice to have someone listen to hers for a change. She pushed up, her hand falling away from his, as he scooted out his own chair and scooped her into his arms. The small office chair groaned under both of their weights.
It wouldn’t if I had enough money to buy proper ones, she thought.
“You are not a mess.” Rex’s hand retwined with hers. He jostled his legs to both bear more of her weight, freeing up the little chair, and to send her closer to his chest.
He felt more like home than her own had in the last ten years. She realized she was starting to cry again. Her mascara dripping down her face probably made her look like some kind of circus clown. “Really?” she asked, pointing to the evidence.
“Well then, just for this moment, you’re my mess.”
He brushed his lips over the back of her hand in more of a caress with his mouth than a kiss. She groaned as he kept kissing her skin. After less than twenty-four hours, she was ready for more Rex. Even her ankle had stopped hurting.
His hardness pressed up against her soft thigh. It was too tempting to touch it. She bit her lip. That would not end well.
He rose from the kiss, staring at her with thoughtful intensity. “So you need a place to stay?”
Cynthia tensed. His offer would be one she couldn’t accept. “I’ll sleep in the office for the time being, and I can shower at the in-house gym here.”
“How does your landlord feel about this?”
Cynthia snorted. “Oh, Loxely doesn’t care.”
“Loxely. As in the fox?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his nose wrinkle. “No, out of the question.”
“The fox?” Cynthia tried to twist to see Rex’s face. Was he saying Loxely was attractive? That was technically true, if a little weird for him to notice. Maybe it was some kind of nickname. Loxley certainly ran in some of the same circles as Rex did, although he was a much smaller fish by comparison.
“We’ll get you a suite at the plaza,” he said. His tone was breezy as if it were already decided and done.
“I can’t afford the plaza,” Cynthia carefully said. Her hand played with the ends of his hair, the wild strands finally free. It was as downy as it looked.
Rex lowered his chin and looked at her in hunger. “I hear the owner is running a special.” He stole another kiss, first on her forehead, and then on her mouth. But he wasn’t done. He grabbed her hair too, deftly freeing it from her ponytail and winding it around his fist. The kiss was brief, intense, and educational.
When they separated, Cynthia was breathless, but she still had enough smarts to realize that touching his hair had been a mistake. Whatever she did, he would give back to her in triple. God knew if she kissed him, they’d end up having sex on the conference room floor.
“That’s sweet, but I can’t.” She pushed to get off his lap, but this time, he didn’t give way.
“Why?” he growled against her neck.
She held up a hand. “Living with you would make me owe you.”
He tilted his head, considering, although Cynthia was suspicious that his gaze wasn’t just focused on her argument. His eyes were spending an awful long time on her neckline. “So you would take your stepmother’s generosity, but not mine?”
“Clearly, living with her was a mistake. I also just met you.” She fiddled with her shirt again, pulling it up to cover even her collarbone. Rex made every part of her feel sexual. He could look her foot and she’d start to blush.
Speaking of, Cynthia twisted her ankle. While the mark felt warm, the pain was more than gone. Now it seemed to radiate energy—if it were even possible for a weird group of hairs to do that.
“You say your life is a mess.” Rex leaned back in the office chair, lacing his fingers together behind his head as if it were a throne and not a Craigslist cast-off. “What if I help you clean it up?”
Chapter 23
“That’s sweet—”
“If you’re worried about owing me, I’d offer my advice on your company, but I wouldn’t invest in it. No stakes. Same goes for the rest.” Rex adjusted his weight on the weak rotating chair, so that his strength wouldn’t break it, even as he reclined, looking as lazy as a lion. “If you disagree, you can always just tell me to go to de — hell..”
“And how do I know you’ll listen this time?” Her position of both hands on her hips was meant to look imposing, he supposed, but it only succeeded in pushing her ample breasts together. His hard-on pulsed in his pants, as she fiddled yet again with that shirt of hers.
He was tempted to tell her the next time she touched her clothing, he’d do her the favor of ripping it off. Instead, he tipped his chair back further. “Because I don’t lie.”
“So I can get it from you in writing that you aren’t going to hunt me down and make out with me against my will?” She gritted her teeth as he balanced further and further back. His little princess was worried for him.
“That kiss was unintentional.” The chair squeaked.
“Can you please stop doing that? You’re going to fall over and hit your head.”
“My head is very durable,” Rex said, although he still sat up. He wondered if she realized she had just vocalized genuine concern for him. “Your company, on the other hand…” Cynthia tapped her foot, staring behind him at the window her employees were on the other side of, even though she couldn’t see them through the blinds. Before he had stormed the conference room, he had heard the employees’ chatter. None of it was good. What, exactly, the cause of her business problems were wasn’t completely clear, but Rex was certainly eager enough to find out.
“I can help you, Cynthia. I want to help.”
She flinched, pulling out of her thoughts and back toward him, where she belonged. The glaring wasn’t so great however.
“If you so much as touch my company, I will kick you out in a heartbeat,” she hissed. Her soft, round features weren’t very good at looking angry. She seemed more like a pup than wolf. “I’m not going to jeopardize my business for your boner. Got it?”
He nodded solemnly. “I can have lawyers draw up papers if you want.”
“Ugh, no lawyers.” She sighed and fell back into the chair, one of her elbows resting on the table. “For whatever reason, you want me, and for an even more confusing reason, I want you too.” She was gazing at the ceiling again. “And God knows I could use some help.”
Your human god doesn’t have the answers, Princess. But I do.
Giving up on receiving an explanation from the flickering fluorescents above, she again focused on him. “You promise you won’t try to take over and control everything?”
“I won’t,” he said. He scooted his chair further in. It would be better for them both i
f she didn’t see exactly how big said “boner” was. Her obstinacy was too sexy. It was a rare strength.
Women often play acted as if they had little interest in his money. But none of them had ever actually been angered by it. It was as if he offered to pay for the check and instead of just paying herself, she lit the whole bill on fire.
No, she didn’t like him for his money.
She liked him for his wolf.
Even if she didn’t know about the wolf yet.
Rex wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that, except for relief that she liked him at all beyond the mating lust.
“And…” Cynthia heaved a few more breaths, adorably flustered.
“I think that’s all for now.” Rex said. He closed his eyes and tried to think of something to calm his raging erection. Bane Stilskin’s face, smirking and twirling her shoe did the trick. His member went as soft and small as a human man’s.
When he opened his eyes, he stood up and brushed his pants. There was no mess on them, but he wanted to check to make sure the evidence of his need for her was gone. Afterward, he began to walk toward the exit.
“Where are you going?” his mate asked in a small voice.
“If I stay here with you any longer, I will do naughty things to you.” Back to her, Rex couldn’t resist a smirk. “That’s a promise.”
“Rex!”
His smirk dulled. He might be leaving her, but his wolf felt stronger than ever, his matemark pulsing on his leg with the strength of their bond. He couldn’t let her see how much he needed this to work, and if he stayed, he wasn’t sure he could keep that weakness or his wolf in check.
In his hand, the doorknob felt like a cheap plastic toy. He turned it, careful not to break it. “A car will arrive to pick you up at five.”
“Wait.” Her footfalls were loud and fast behind him, though there was barely any distance to cover. “What?”
“I thought we’d discuss strategy over dinner.” He stopped, but he didn’t turn around. Even a small glimpse of her would undo him again.
Her hand brushed against his shoulder, tugging at his too-small suit jacket.
There was no resisting his mate’s touch, and Rex turned to meet her. Now it was his chance to be backed up against the door, with her having a wicked gleam in her eye.
He liked the role reversal. Too much.
“Did you think to ask me for dinner instead of just assuming I’d go?” Cynthia kept her chin down even as she looked up at him coquettishly. The little minx actually batted her eyelashes at him.
“Would you like to go to dinner?” He groaned.
But before he could gather her up in his arms and push her toward the desk for the fucking she so richly deserved, she surprised him by rising up to her tiptoes and pressing her mouth against his. It wasn’t just a kiss either. Her hand moved toward his pants, gripping his now half-masted cock and making it spring up to full energy.
“Fine. But I’m paying.”
Her tongue danced into his mouth, teasing the edge of his teeth. He lunged forward to bring her hips against his, flick off her panties, and take her, but just as he did, the door began to fall way behind him.
Cynthia had grabbed the knob while he wasn’t looking and pushed him out the door.
He growled as the door closed in his face and clicked as the lock turned. If Rex had been human, he might have landed on his ass, but as it was, all he did was blink.
He jiggled the door, using only half his strength, which was enough to make it impressively rattle. He didn’t want to tear it off though. It might alert the small crowd behind that he was much more the wolf of wall street than he was the prince of it. Also an act of aggression like that kind of property destruction would herald the beginning of the end of his self-control.
On the windows next to him, the blinds rolled up in a split second, revealing his mate, hands on hips, smirking as if she had just invented public humiliation. Rex schooled his expression and stopped rattling the door. Letting her see how much she riled him would only be admitting defeat.
“See you at five,” she mouthed through the glass. He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head with bland innocence. “Five o’clock.” He gestured with one finger to the door leading to the stairway. “Be outside.”
Chapter 24
Ten Virtues of Post-It Notes, Plus One Warning
1)They allow to-do items to be given physical space. If crossing off something from your to-do list is fun, think of how awesome it is to pull one off your board and throw it in the trash. (Being sure to pick it up if you miss! ☺)
2)You can color-code tasks, making a beautiful rainbow of productivity.
3)They’re portable. If you have a good idea on the go, just peel one off. No crumpling.
4)When bored or taking a break, they can double as miniature origami.
5)They’re just plain fun. But be careful, you might find yourself, like me, spending all your time making your post-it to-do list instead of actually finishing your list.
6)No seriously, Cynthia. Be. Careful. And you kind of sound like your stepmother with this list. Can we work on tone, please? You’re getting close to insufferably smug.
It was a point of pride at Boxes & Broom that the entire first page of search results on Pinterest when you typed in “Organized Office” were actually pictures of Cynthia’s desk.
White-coated metal, with minimalist shelving, the desk was really only a display case for Cynthia’s pride and joy—her to-do board. Rainbows of paper arced artfully across the cork surface, segmented by category and color.
By the end of the day, Cynthia had only made a small dent in the red column for urgent tasks. After Rex had left, she’d reassembled the team for a brainstorming session to help figure out a strategy to keep Boxes & Broom afloat, but no one had been able to think of anything that wouldn’t involve compromising their core values. She was too distracted, and in the end, she had spent the rest of the day playing catch up on emails, as had the rest of the team.
Her phone vibrated with an alarm, spinning itself in a small circle on her desk.
Four o’clock.
Cynthia swiped over to her takeout app, plugging in an order for her favorite sushi place to deliver. Rex said he was going to meet her down stairs at five, and she had a feeling that if she wanted to be able to pay for dinner, she’d have to bring it herself or risk being taken to some fancy restaurant.
As she was finishing up her order, she noticed she still had a text from Bel about her best friend’s new boyfriend. There was always something to straighten in the chaos Bel lived in, and dealing with someone else’s problems would be a welcome return to normalcy… and a break from her own.
Bel: You don’t even know the half of it…
Cynthia: You’re telling me. Jesus. I’ve had the craziest two days. But tell me about yours first.
Bel: It must be contagious. Samson, my boyfriend, is having some family issues. His youngest brother used to be a part of some sort of motorcycle gang, and now that he isn’t answering his phone, Samson’s worried he’s been sucked back in.
Cynthia: Yikes! I’m so sorry. Let me know if there is anything I can do, okay?
Bel: Fly down to hang out with me in Crystal Creek, so I don’t have to deal with my grumpy boyfriend all by myself?
Thoughtfully, Cynthia stroked the screen, wishing that Bel were here. She contemplated pressing the small phone icon and actually calling her. But she didn’t think she’d be able to stop from crying if she heard Bel voice, and Cynthia had done enough bawling in her office for one day.
Bel: I’ve even got book news to share…
Cynthia: Please tell me they’re picking up Mates of Darkness for another series. Naomi has to get back with Veren.
Bel: Nope. But I’m publishing more anyway.
Cynthia: Bel Booksmore! I’m not emotionally steady enough right now to handle this excitement. Wait, you’re not self-publishing, are you? I thought you said self-pubbing was for “hacks, wha
ck jobs, and wanna-bes.”
Bel: Samson changed my mind.
Cynthia: How?
Bel: He convinced me that the ability to take your dream into your own two hands and make it a reality is a gift I shouldn’t squander.
Cynthia: He sounds like a very hot fortune cookie… or a self-help author.
Bel: Grumpiness aside, I’m glad I have him, honestly. You know me. Sometimes, I get trapped inside the echo chamber of my own interior worlds.
Cynthia: No seriously, good for you, Bel.
Bel: And, to be honest, he wasn’t the only one who inspired me.
Cynthia: ?
Bel: I was kind of inspired by you, too.
Cynthia leaned back into her chair, her neck aching as she stared up at the endless rainbows of tasks. All of them needed to be done. But maybe none of them would stem the bleeding. She reached up and grabbed one of the purple post-its from the last row. Purple was supposed to be for big-picture to-dos, but when Cynthia turned over the note, she found it was blank. How symbolic.
Cynthia: I’m not exactly a business goddess lately, but tell me, how did you channel me?
Bel: Well, Samson’s brother is going to invest in the books, helping me fund editing, cover design, and the rest. But he made me draw up a business plan before he invested. I know how good you are at organizing stuff like that, so I may have taken a peek at Boxes & Broom’s plan you had me copy edit for inspiration. It was very useful.
A hot lump burned in the bottom of Cynthia’s throat. Her fist crumpled the blank post-it. Slowly, she unclenched her fingers. The post-it note was now shaped like a crinkled flower and slowly expanded with every passing second.
All her plans, rules, and flow-charts, what had they gotten her in the end?
Her phone shimmied with another text.
Bel: Anyway, how are you?