Page 11 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Maid
"Jenkins?" I paused, holding up an ornate paperweight with another wolf design. "These wolves, they're everywhere. Are they some kind of family crest?"
"I am not at liberty to discuss Mr. Nightfang's personal matters." The AI's response was oddly evasive.
"Right." I set down the paperweight, noting how its eyes seemed to catch the light. "But they mean something, don't they? Just like Rafe's visit meant something."
Dean's secrets wouldn't stay buried forever. And I wanted to be here when they emerged.
I wasn't sure any of us were ready for what that meant.
Chapter 6
DEAN
My muscles coiled with each turn across the office, Rafe's earlier smirk burning in my mind. The way his fingers had lingered on Nina's wrist, how he'd leaned in too close, breathing in her scent. My wolf thrashed beneath my skin, its claws scratching to get out. The beast's rage manifested in rippling muscles and burning skin, my shoulder blades aching where they wanted to reshape themselves. Each breath brought the bitter scent of barely contained violence, my gums throbbing where fangs pushed against flesh.
Crack!
I glanced down at my desk. Deep grooves now marked the dark wood. The tips of my claws had broken skin.
My wolf's protective instincts raged at Rafe's transgression. He'd touched what was mine. No, not mine. Nina wasn't mine. She could never be mine. But the primal part of me didn't care about that logic. It only knew that Rafe's scent near her was wrong. Theworst part was knowing he'd done it deliberately, playing on my instincts like a maestro conducting chaos.
"Sir," Jenkins' voice cut through the red haze. "Might I suggest some breathing exercises?"
"Mute," I growled, then immediately regretted it. Jenkins was only trying to help, in his analytically precise way. "Sorry, old friend. Override mute. I can't have him here. Can't have him anywhere near…"
"Near Miss Sorenson?" Jenkins finished. "I've noticed your protective instincts seem particularly triggered where she's concerned."
I barked out a harsh laugh. "Am I that obvious?"
"Only to those who know you well, sir. Though I must say, your heart rate does show marked elevation whenever she—"
"Jenkins."
"Shutting up, sir."
I looked out the window at the cityscape below. Suddenly, the office that used to be my safe haven felt too sterile, too confining. I was a predator caged in a glass tower, rendered fangless by my life choices.
"Jenkins, increase security protocols. No one gets in without my explicit approval."
"Already done, sir." A pause. "Though I should warn you—"
The elevator chimed.
"Your mother has override access."
Violet Nightfang stepped into my office like she owned it, elegant in a charcoal Chanel suit.
The sharp click of her Louboutin heels against the wooden floorboards echoed like the beat of a drum. Her silver-streaked dark hair was perfectly coiffed, and her red lipstick immaculate. She looked every inch the successful businesswoman she pretended to be, but I caught the predatory gleam in her eyes, the same eyes I saw in the mirror.
"Dean, darling." Her smile didn't reach those eyes. "No hello for your mother?"
"Still hiding in your office," she observed, running a finger along my desk. "Like a prince in exile. Or should I say, a wolf without a pack?"
"I have everything I need here." The words came out clipped.
"Do you?" Her knowing smile made my skin crawl. "That little human girl down the hall would disagree. I can smell your interest in her, darling. The way your scent changes when she's near."
"Leave her out of this." My voice dropped to a dangerous growl.
