AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Ms. Sharpe, I have those files you were asking for.” My magical ass-istant, Stephanie, glides into my office. Her long, glossy brown hair swings behind her with every step until she comes to a stop in front of my desk and places a small stack of black folders in my hands. My white-tipped, french manicured fingernails brush over the name on the front of the first one: Stevenson Sanctuary.
“Is this the sanctuary that’s failing?”
“Yes. The one owned by a Mr. David Stevenson.” She confirms for me and I nod absently before flicking to the next folder. “In order, there is P.H. Rescue, Furry Friends Sanctuary, and Feline Foxhole. All four have agreed to your terms.”
My face lights up and I let out a girlish giggle as I let the pile of files flop to my desk. Leaning back in my chair, I turn my attention back to Steph. “That’s a massive cause for celebration!” Her answering smile is as wide as mine feels.
Now this? This is what I live for.
I hate sitting here in this stupid, upscale office, when I could be down in the trenches with my employees, saving animals, caring for them, getting them the treatment they need. Alas, I’m the stupid boss who founded this whole operation, which leaves me to deal with most of the shit work.
My company started as one small sanctuary for a few stray dogs and cats, and now it’s a billion dollar operation that umbrellas hundreds of sanctuaries, clinics, black market stings, and so much more. My company is responsible for saving the lives of millions of creatures in the animal kingdom–big and small.
“With those four, that’s officially two thousand four hundred and twenty-nine more animals that will be in safe hands permanently,” she recites before flicking through the last folder in her hands. “And that includes multiple critically endangered species. There are three Giant Pandas, one Cross River Gorilla, two Sunda Tigers, one Black Rhino, and…four Amur Leopards.”
I practically choke on my own spit as she says that last one and my jaw slackens with shock. “Four? Four freaking Amur Leopards?! Are you kidding right now?”
Steph shuffles through the papers left over in her arms–as unruffled as ever–before casting her bright, light-brown gaze back at me. “That is correct. Stevenson Sanctuary rescued four of them from an abandoned cartel house after the owners were arrested. They have, surprisingly, bonded well as a group and stay in an enclosure together.”
“That’s…unusual.” Understatement of the century. Amur Leopards are solitary creatures. They don’t tend to keep mates–they prefer a rather promiscuous lifestyle– and mothers will only stick with their young for two years at the maximum. “Is it a mother and her young? How long ago were they rescued initially?”
“They were rescued a year ago. It’s one female and three males. As far as we are aware, they are not related. The female is only about two and a half years old and hasn’t yet reached sexual maturity. There have been no signs of estrus yet, which could be due to the stressful conditions she was brought up in. The males are older; one is three, one is about five and a half, and the last one is eight. Though there is an occasional fight between males, they all tend to form a sort of pack around the female, completely disregarding their natural tendencies towards seclusion and dominance challenges.”
“That’s…incredible.” Yeah, I might be speechless, but I am right. It’s incredible, and I’m already mentally planning a visit out to this sanctuary to see the beasts in action. It’s bizarre to say the least.
I need to see it. Soon.
Chapter 2
I’ve made it two feet in the door of my penthouse when my cell phone starts playing the Jaws theme song. Even if it wasn’t my mother’s personalized ringtone, I’d still know it was her calling. I was expecting it.
Yes, okay, I still personalize all my ringtones. That’s the one thing I refuse to give up to be new-age-cool. Do you know how hard it was to have personalized ringtones back in the day?
First you had to wait for the radio to play the song you wanted. Then you had to record it at the perfect distance from the speaker to get a good sound. You also had to hope that no one busted into your room and made noise or said something, otherwise the entire thing was ruined. You couldn’t sound edit on your phones like you can now.
And if anything messed up…you had to do it all again. Or pay like, way too much money to buy a ringtone. But that’s only if the kind of phone you had allowed it. That’s not even mentioning the notorious Nokia texting.
We went through all that, just to have it be so easy to do it today and yet no one takes advantage. So, no. I don’t need to be cool. I like using my phone to actually call people and I like finding the perfect song for every contact. Call me disgustingly nostalgic. I don’t care.
Letting out a loud sigh, I kick off my heels and toss my keys and briefcase on the marble surface of my kitchen island. Fishing my phone from my blazer pocket, I wince as my mother’s beaming face smiles at me from her contact picture.
As much as she is a controlling busybody, she’s still my mom, and a good one at that. I love her more than I hate her lack of respect for my boundaries, and that’s saying something. I also, maybe, sorta, kinda fear the tiny, demanding woman as well. That doesn’t mean I’ll stop pushing her buttons though.
Bracing myself for the reaming I’m about to endure–with a distinct lack of lube–I slide the answer button as I plop my ass on a barstool at the island.
“Kathryn Marie Sharpe! How dare you embarrass me like that! Do you know what strings I had to pull to get the son of the damn mayor to agree to a blind date?” Her screeches are on a frequency so high that it pierces my eardrum. I jerk the phone away from my ear, holding it at arm's length like a venomous snake. The volume isn’t even that high, and I can still hear her.
Before she can continue, I make my own voice heard, “Momma! It doesn’t count as a blind date if he’s reading about me in the gossip columns.”
Sometimes I truly hate the fact that I come from a celebrity family. Mom was an A-list actress back in her day–like, full-on Hollywood starlet and America’s Sweetheart–before she decided she wanted to step out of the lime-light and raise me and my sister. Dad is a crazy well-connected tech guru. Add to that, my own work with the rich and famous…and it brings way more attention to me than I’m comfortable with.
It has its advantages, like when I need to bring attention to a cause or a certain sanctuary, but most of the time it just sucks.
“Well, if you would just settle down with a nice man, those worms would stop speculating and spreading rumors about you! They’ll find someone else to gossip about.” Her volume drops as she speaks, and I put the phone back up to my ear, listening to the gallons of self-satisfaction pouring from her tone.
She thinks she’s backed me into a corner.
“Not really, Ma. They’ll just start spreading rumors about how I’m having an affair. Or he is. And then comes the pregnancy ones. It’s most definitely the side piece’s, by the way. Not the husband’s. Oh! And don’t forget all the abuse claims and insider info from reliable sources about the upcoming divorce.” My own tone drips with sarcastic acid.
