Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
I see her softening. I stroke her cheek with my thumb.
“Why can’t I go back to work?”
Fuck.
Madi must see the misgiving in my expression because she pulls out of my grasp. “Brick? Do people still think I caused the security breach?”
I stiffen. “Yes, some, but I am already working to correct that.”
“Then what is the problem?”
“The problem is that I marked you, Madi. Every wolf who works at Moon Co will know with one sniff of your scent.”
Her brow furrows. “And?”
“The pack cannot know about you.”
Chapter Three
Madi
I try to shove Brick away.
He catches my elbows. “Just for now, Madi. Until the dust settles from this uprising. I can’t have my pack seeing me as weak.”
My stomach rumbles. I never ate breakfast–I was too upset with Brick. Of course, he hears it. I now know he has superhuman hearing.
“You’re hungry. Let me take you to lunch.” Brick reaches for his phone in the suit pants on the floor. “I’ll call John to pick us up.”
“I don’t want a helicopter ride to a fancy restaurant from you,” I say tightly.
Brick lowers the phone and catches my gaze. “What do you need, Madi?”
Tears prick my eyes. “I need to go home. My life isn’t here, locked in your penthouse. I have a family and friends. Humans.” My lips twist in despair when I say the word humans. The realization of exactly how different my world is from Brick’s is still setting in.
I’d have thought we were worlds apart before because of our class status, income and age difference. Now I know it goes far deeper than that. And I fear it could be a divide we can’t bridge.
“Ah. You need your things. I sent over the stylist with clothes hoping that would be enough.”
“I don’t just want my things. I want my life!”
I watch as Brick’s expression grows resolved. “All right. Let’s go get your life.”
I blink at him. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’m going with you. I need to know you’re safe, Madison. But I will also do whatever it takes to make you happy.”
“Okay.” I hop off the bathroom counter. This time he lets me. “Let’s go to Brooklyn.”
Some of the constriction around my ribs that’s been present since this morning dissolves.
I put on a different fabulous outfit Elise left for me–buttery-soft wide-legged jeans with a knit crop top in sapphire that wraps around the waist. I put on a pair of Steve Madden sparkly sneakers to complete the casual look. Yes, I am purposely dressing like a Gen Z college student and not the smart-dressed former assistant who worked for Brick until she was wrongfully fired.
Maybe I want to illustrate just how different we are. Maybe I’m just trying to remember who I was before I went to work on Wall Street–not that I could afford sparkly Steve Madden sneakers then.
Brick doesn’t seem to mind the change. He makes a rumbling sound of approval, his gaze tracing around the little bit of skin showing where the sweater wraps at my waist. His eyes take on that amber glow as he stalks toward me, half-dressed. He picks me up by the waist and lifts me until my bare belly is in line with his mouth. He flicks his tongue over my skin.
I wriggle, turned on.
He opens his mouth wide and sucks a large section of my flesh into his mouth, slowly releasing it until the gesture becomes a lingering kiss.
My stomach rumbles again.
“Let’s get you a snack, and then we can stay in.” He looks over his shoulder at his bed, which is still piled high with my new clothes. I kick my feet, and he immediately puts me down. “You want to go to Brooklyn. Sorry.”
“Be careful. Your apologies are becoming almost frequent. What will your employees think if they find out?”
Brick turns away, stuffing his arms into a fresh button-down shirt. “I had to prove myself worthy of leading a pack and running a start-up venture when I was younger than you,” he says.
I go still, absorbing for the first time how bad-ass my boss really is. And how much he’s been through. “That’s right. No wonder you took on the role of boss-hole.”
He turns and hits me with a very boss-like raise of his brow. “Boss-hole, hmm?”
I take over buttoning his shirt. “Does that offend you, sir?”
He grabs the back of my head and delivers a ferocious kiss. His tongue lashes mine, his lips twist with bruising intensity. “It does,” he murmurs, forehead pressed against mine. “I think it deserves a reprimand.”
My panties soak.
“After Brooklyn.”
He squeezes my ass roughly. “All right, Ms. Evans.” He delivers another incredible kiss. “But then I’ll need you to report to my bedroom for your spanking.”
My pelvic floor lifts and squeezes, and flutters of excitement flap in my belly. “Yes, sir.”
He pulls on a wool coat and holds mine out for me. These are the little boyfriend-like gestures I’m not used to.