Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“She’s worth it,” Madi pipes in.
“I don’t need two murals,” Billy counters.
“One grey” –I sweep my hand to indicate the wall behind the couch– “and one color.” I point to the larger wall directly across from it. “That’s my only offer. Take it or leave it.”
Billy considers me. “I approve the design before you begin.”
Wow. He’s accepting my bid? Surprising. I thought he’d hardball me. I dismiss his stipulation. “No deal.”
“Concept,” he immediately counters.
Fireflies dance inside my entire body. I’m lit up by our negotiation–both physically turned on and mentally thrilled.
I consider his counter-offer. There’s a lot of grey area with an approved concept. “Okay,” I agree.
He grows more smug. I’m not sure why he seems to think he has me where he wants me. I’m charging a fortune, and I plan to make his life miserable with this venture.
“You pay all expenses,” I throw in as an afterthought.
“Done.”
A frisson of excitement pulses through me, even as some wary part wants to throw on the brakes. But I have nothing to fear. If it doesn’t work, I can always walk away. Billy likes to push people around and bend them to his will with power, status, and money.
I’m immune to all of it. I can’t be pushed around when I don’t care about any of those things. I’d rather have my dignity than his money.
William White III will soon find that I’m not afraid of the Big Bad Bully.
Chapter Six
Billy
What in the hell am I doing? I must be out of my mind.
I hate having people in my place. It messes with my control over my environment. Even my housekeeper and chef annoy the hell out of me–and they’re shifters in the Blackthroat pack. Respectful and trustworthy to the bone.
Why would I subject myself to having a human in my apartment? A mural must take weeks to paint. Maybe more. And she wants to paint two.
Two murals. One in color. Ugh. It will be ghastly. But whatever, I can have someone paint over it in a day.
The point is, I’m going to have Aubrey Cook in my apartment for months.
I. Will. Go. Mad.
Except, smug satisfaction emanates from my wolf at the idea of having her here. I have no doubt he manufactured this outcome. He wants to fuck the little human.
It’s a strange impulse for a pure-blooded wolf from an alpha line. I can’t be going down the road Brick did–wanting to claim a human.
Not even one who smells as enticing as this one.
Fuck no. Humans are weak. Inconsequential.
I had that drilled into my head since before I could walk. Back when I was a runt who my father hid away from the pack out of shame.
I’ve spent my entire life scraping and scratching to get to the top. First, to prove I was worthy of the White name, which I now fucking reject. Then to prove I was worthy to be Brick’s second in command.
I was born small and stayed small as a pup. My transition came late–I didn’t shift or hit my growth spurt until I was fifteen–long after my dad had abandoned me at boarding school.
Long before then, I learned to fight ferociously, besting kids twice my size. I learned cut-throat strategy.
And when I finally hit my transition and shifted for the first time, I willed my way to rapidly grow to this size.
So I can screw this ridiculous human who smells like nutmeg and honey, but after that, I need to cast her aside. My story doesn’t end with a human in my life. Full stop.
Madi claps her hands in delight and reaches for the bottle of prosecco to pour another round.
Aubrey picks up her refilled glass and drinks from it. It’s hard for a wolf to even get buzzed because we metabolize alcohol so quickly, but I can tell Cafe Girl’s on the border of drinking too much. Her movements are getting jerkier and reactions slower.
Part of me doesn’t mind seeing her with lowered inhibitions. But it riles my wolf as if she’s in some kind of danger here.
From me, perhaps.
Certainly not Madi or Brick.
“What else do you need from us?” Brick cuts in. He’s got his hands all over Madi. I’m sure he wants to get her alone again. With the amount of sex those two get, it’s a wonder she’s not knocked up already.
“Help with the guest list,” Aubrey answers. “And we need to set a date. Do we want it right before the wedding?”
Madi muses. “Yes. Let’s do it the week of the wedding, arriving back home at least two days before the ceremony. I’ll put together my guest list this weekend and get it to you, but I think it will just be you and Brick’s two sisters.”
Brick’s fingers slide along Madi’s inner thigh, inside the skirt of her form-fitting dress. She lets out a soft moan.