I’d paid for this.
And apparently I was getting exactly what I’d paid for.
Chapter 11
Come Here
After a decent night’s sleep—more than decent, really, I slept better than I had in months or maybe years—I was able to shake off whatever maudlin, self-pitying bullshit I’d allowed myself to wallow in the night before, the result of too much anxiety and adrenaline. Dimitri had knocked Jerry’s socks off. My father wouldn’t be able to force us to break the bond now that we had that old martinet’s approval. Mates were for life, after all.
I’d have to deal with that later, when Dimitri and I did eventually break the bond after I got my position as CEO. But Jerry had to be pushing seventy. He’d have to retire at some point, dammit. We’d make it work.
As I poured my coffee, I found myself actually whistling. It promised to be a beautiful sunny day, and that lifted my spirits even though I’d be spending most of it locked up in a conference room with my sales team.
Fuck it, maybe I’d shift and go for a run after work. Maybe Dimitri would want to join me, and we could check out the waterfall I’d found a ways up in the foothills. I didn’t like going all the way out there on my own because of my balance and eyesight issues. In my wolf form, those things weren’t much better, although my enhanced hearing and sense of smell compensated a bit. And if I stumbled and sprained or broke something, I’d be in trouble. I might not heal fast enough if I’d fallen down a cliff or into water.
But Dimitri wouldn’t let anything happen to me. And it might be fun.
Well, maybe not today—I’d probably have to work late. But soon. As soon as I could get up the courage to ask Dimitri if he wanted to.
He prowled into the kitchen as I was leaning against the counter and sipping my coffee, scrolling through my email on my phone to get a preview of what kinds of crap would be landing on me the second I walked into the office.
I had to laugh when I got a good look at him. In the warm golden glow of the early-morning sun streaming through the kitchen’s wide bay window, he redefined seedy: unshaven, boxers crooked, T-shirt on inside-out, overlong hair sticking up wildly in gravity-defying directions.
“Ungh,” he said, making a beeline for the coffee. I had to practically jump out of the way to avoid being run over.
“You know, you don’t have to get up every morning when I go to work,” I said—and I actually meant it, much to my own surprise. I’d always hated it when people slept in. It seemed so lazy. And it made me bitter and jealous, if I were being totally honest. Early rising had been one of my requirements for a mate when I’d made a list a few years back. (With bullet points, obviously, and I made a mental note to find it and burn it before Dimitri ran across it by accident.) Of course, Dimitri wasn’t my real mate, so maybe that made all the difference. “It’s not like I need you to hold my hand while I have coffee and get dressed. I don’t eat big breakfasts, or anything.”
Dimitri took a long, loud slurp of his burning-hot black coffee. Ugh, for so many reasons.
But when he turned and half-smiled at me, all big and rumpled and sleep-creased, the picture of friendly morning domesticity, my annoyance melted away instantly.
“Yeah, but you should,” he grumbled. “You need to eat more. Anyway, I’ve got to get used to it. I’m going to start going with you to the office every day, right?”
Right. Jesus, what was wrong with my brain this morning?
“Not today, though. My father still has to give us the official thumbs-up. He will. Jerry liking you backed him into a corner he can’t get out of.” My face ached with the size of my smile. “That really backfired, inviting Jerry. I think he thought the last-minute summons to dinner would put him in a bad mood and then you’d do the rest. Hoist with his own petard.”
Dimitri smiled back, a real one that lit up his eyes. He sipped more of his coffee—quietly this time, thank God. “You’re in a good mood this morning.”
“Yep. Winning always makes me feel good.”
His smile widened into a wicked grin. Why was he looking at me like that? I was allowed to be happy. My father had held the upper hand for twenty-eight years, and foronceI’d gotten ahead.
“Have a good day at work, Brook,” he said after another gulp of coffee. “I’ll have dinner ready when you get home if you text me you’re on your way.”
That put the last bit of shine and polish on my mood, and I was whistling again when I started the car and headed out. Why hadn’t I gotten myself a mate a long time ago, if it could be like this?
Murphy’s Law probably should’ve dictated that the rest of the day could only go downhill from there.
But it didn’t. My sales team had all their numbers ready, no one argued, and whichever administrative assistant had stocked the executive breakroom that morning had gotten blueberry scones.
And last but not least, my father called me into his office right after lunch, demanded to know why Dimitri hadn’t come in to work with me that day, and then dismissed me with a few harsh words about my handling of the Anderson account.
From him, that was the equivalent of flying the white flag.
Life was finally looking up.
***
