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)
“Well, he told me that planning the bachelor party was his penance for fucking with your relationship.” I find a bench in the subway and drop onto it to wait for the train. After being on my feet all morning, I’m ready to rest.
Madi lets out a soft chuckle. “Ah. That explains it. He’s still trying to mend things. So I guess he’s sucking up.”
“He came to pick me up at Sentience two nights ago.” I let that bomb drop to see if it changes her perspective.
“What?”
Good. She’s appropriately surprised. I’m not the only one who thought it was weird.
“Yeah, and then he wanted to know if there was something between me and the security guard.”
Madi gasps. “Holy shit. He’s into you.”
“Kind of seems like it.”
“So into you, he hired you to be in his loft for the next two months.” Madi sounds thrilled.
My heart skips a little although I’m not sure if it’s over the joy of Madi and me having something to gossip about together again or about a Wall Street suit being into me.
“Yeah. He sent me a contract and wired the down payment the very next day.”
“Which allowed him to bully you into meeting him this weekend.”
“Uh-uh.” That slows my heart rate back down. “No amount of money will allow him to bully me,” I say firmly. “Weekends are actually better for me with school, or I wouldn’t do it.”
“Good for you. Yeah, never show fear with Billy. He can smell it, and he’ll work any advantage he can find.”
I recall the feel of his large hand steadying mine as he handed me into the car. Is he working an angle with me?
He might be. But I suspect the angle is only about getting in my panties. Like Madi said, he’s too much of a stuck-up society douche to be interested in anything real.
He probably just wants to know what it’s like to fuck a lowly barista. What does he call me? Cafe Girl??
But whatever. I’m not entirely opposed to a hot round or two in the sheets with him.
Call me curious. Maybe I just want to know what it’s like to screw a billionaire.
My train pulls into the station, and I press my earbud to my ear to finish the conversation as I stand. “He won’t be working me. I intend to make him suffer.”
Madi laughs. “Good. How?”
“Well, I already decided that if the bachelor party is his penance, I won’t make it easy for him.”
“And now?”
“And now, I guess I’m not above a good cock tease. If he wants between my legs, he’s going to have to work for it.”
Madi lets out an exaggerated, scandalized gasp. “Are you into him?”
“Mmm…” I deliberate.
“You are!” She sounds thrilled.
“Of course not.”
“But?”
I laugh. “You heard a but?”
“I mean, you implied he would be getting between your legs.”
“Okay, I’m a little bit interested,” I admit as I step onto the train and find a handle to hang onto. The train takes off, and my weight falls backward.
“Yeah, I don’t know,” Madi says. “Part of me thinks sex with Billy would be horrible. Like it would be all about him.”
“Why in the fuck are you talking about sex with Billy?” I hear Brick demand in the background, as if he just walked into the room.
Madi laughs. “I’m talking to Aubrey,” she tells him. To me, she says, “But he’s also very good at knowing what people want. That’s what makes him a brilliant strategist. So maybe he’d be a decent lay.”
“You’re going to stop that conjecture right now,” Brick growls, and Madi shrieks, like he just picked her up or tickled her or something.
“Uh oh. Mr. Possessive is getting jealous.” I don’t mean to sound as judgey as it comes out.
Honestly, I’m the one who’s jealous.
Shame tightens my chest. I hate that I resent Brick for stealing Madi’s attention. What am I, twelve years old? I should be able to share my best friend with the man who loves her.
“He knows I don’t want Billy.” Madi’s voice is breathy, and I’m certain she’s talking to Brick not me. They’re probably staring into each other’s eyes about to get naked again, if they aren’t already.
“Okay, I’m gonna let you get on with whatever is about to happen over there.” I try to make my voice lighter this time. “Can’t wait to hang out Thursday night!”
“Me neither!” she sing-songs and ends the call.
I drop into a seat that opens up at the next stop. I’m not sure why I suddenly wish I’d worn something a little more tempting. I’m in my standard first nice day of spring wear–a tight-fitting crop sweater, short-shorts, and Doc Martens on my feet.
But I don’t know what I’d rather be wearing to torture a guy like Billy–certainly not a pair of heels. He’s already attracted to what he’s seen. I don’t need to go changing into something I’m not. But I could push the bounds here.