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)
“I’ll have someone check on your place and keep an eye on it while we’re gone. Who’s Jan?”
She gives me a surprised look, and I realize I revealed too much. I shouldn’t have heard her conversation over the music playing in the limo.
I play it off with a shrug. “I overheard. You were right next to me.”
“Jan is my lawyer friend. She and her partner own La Résistance, where I work. She might take the case if we get enough evidence.”
“Do you want me to put security on her as well?”
Aubrey’s eyes go round, but her body relaxes. I’ve given her relief. “You would do that?”
“Absolutely.” I dial Grayson, our front door guy. He’s one of Sully’s security team members, but he’ll answer to me as pack beta. “Call Jan and let her know,” I say to Aubrey.
We both have brief conversations, and I text Aubrey and Jan’s addresses to Grayson.
“Thank you.” She looks up at me with her warm brown eyes. “You really are a fixer, aren’t you?”
Something shifts in my chest. I refuse to work to earn anyone but my alpha’s approval. But hearing the admiration and appreciation in Aubrey’s voice affects me. I want to earn her gratitude again. Want her to look up at me this way, like I’m strong and powerful. Like I’m the male who will hold her steady when things get rough.
“Who said that, Madi?”
She nods.
I lean over and kiss her forehead. It’s a decidedly affectionate gesture–completely unlike me–but I like the way it makes me feel.
Like for a moment, I’m not an island in the middle of the fucking ocean. It’s not me against the world.
I could choose between keeping the world under meticulous control to ensure survival, or I could become this guy. Someone who has a lovely female to care for and protect.
It’s a role I never thought I wanted. It involves vulnerability. Not just between me and the female but because there’s a female in my life. She becomes a vulnerability. A liability. Another place danger could strike.
Brick chose this life. Allowing someone in to weaken everything he built. He’s not the razor-sharp shark I met in college. The one looking to take back everything the Adalwulfs took from him anymore.
But Madi has strengthened him, too. As a couple–as alpha and luna–they are more than the sum of two parts. Their strength is exponential. And he smiles now. He’s found a satisfaction that seemed out of reach to me.
But maybe it’s not.
“Feel better?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Good. Come on, let’s shop.” I take her elbow and steer her toward a jewelry store.
“Really?” She peers up at me through thick lashes, a sensual curve to her lips. “You don’t strike me as the shopping type.”
“I’m not.”
“I’m more of a thrifter. I love to haunt the sales racks or flea markets. I can’t afford anything here.”
“You have the hundred grand you charged me.”
She throws me an impish smile. “True. But that money doesn’t even feel real. I was just pushing you to see where you’d push back. I never expected you to actually pay me that much.”
“You negotiated what it was worth to you. I paid what it was worth to me. Come here, let’s check this place out.” I lead her into a jewelry shop that I noted when I researched where we were going on the way over. “This place has lab-grown diamonds. No children dying in mines for their jewelry.”
Aubrey peers at me. “I can’t decide if you’re making fun of me.”
“Not at all. I know what’s important to you.” I look at the woman behind the desk, who greets us in French.
“Good afternoon. I would like to buy my girlfriend a diamond nose and navel ring. Do you have any?” I ask in French.
She beams at me. “We do. I have a wide selection. Look at these.” She pulls a tray of diamond studs out from a locked cabinet behind her.
Aubrey flicks a glance around with disinterest. I get it. She’s not impressed by money or expensive gifts.
“This is a pink diamond. It would look stunning on her.” The saleswoman still speaks in French. “And there is a matching set with two diamonds for her belly. I will get them now.” She bends down to open another cabinet and produces another tray, this time with pairs of diamonds–one large, one small–set on curved studs.
I pick up the pink diamond nose stud and hand it to Aubrey.
She peers at it. “Oh!” She lifts her gaze to my face in surprise. “It’s a nose ring.”
“What, did you think I’d buy you a cheesy pendant or something, Silver? I pay attention. I know what you like.” I slide a mirror over to her. “Is this the one?”
“You’re buying me a gift.” She sounds stunned. “Wow.” She holds the pink diamond up to her nostril. “You do pay attention. It’s lovely. I…I love it.” I can almost see the inner wrestling, and I celebrate the small victory of picking the right gift. One she won’t reject out of her disdain for money. One that reflects my respect for who she is, as she is.