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I spin around. “Seriously, this is a mistake. I’m going to take myself out of the running. We all know that this is not a good fit. In fact, this is your job, and if you aren’t leaving, there’s no reason I should be hired. I’m going to—”
Whatever I was going to say flees my mind when the door behind the secretary opens and the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen walks out. He’s not very tall, probably only a couple inches over my own five foot eight inches, but his face is a perfect oval. He has longish bangs that are swept to the side and piercing dark eyes.
“Hey,” I say weakly and wave a hand in his direction. Maybe I’ll take this job after all, if this is who I have to work for. Bring on the cuffs and collars.
“Good morning.” He glides. I hold out my hand, and he starts to take it, but a growl behind me has him jerking back. I cast a dark glance at the bodyguard to my left, who glares right back. The glorious man in front of me clears his throat.
“You must be Bellamy Beaumont.” He bows slightly. “I’m Cairns. Thank you for coming. Mr. Garrett is indisposed right now, but he asked that I take you to lunch. By the time we’re done, he should be ready to see you.”
“Sure. That’d be great.” Then his words land. “Wait, you’re not Mr. Garrett?”
“No, I’m his second—I’m his deputy,” he finishes smoothly, but I noticed the pause, as if he started to say something he wasn’t supposed to. I don’t know what all is going on here, but no matter how attractive the workforce is, I don’t think I belong.
I smile regretfully. “I was just telling your admin here that I’m not right for this job.”
Chapter Two
Him
I hear the noise from the outer office, but the voices are distant, unimportant. Just a mumble of conversation I couldn’t give less than a shit about. Nothing can distract from the agony of the wolf tearing away, trying to claw his way out.
The wolf growls, lunges.
I brace my hands on my desk, knuckles turning white with pressure. I force the wolf back, my lips pulling back in a snarl. NO!
I’m not giving in to my beast. Not today.
An endless instant where the wolf strains against my will, trying to wrest control away from me. A fight for dominance that has been steadily getting worse until I’m no longer sure who will be the victor. But for now I’m still stronger…barely.
The wolf finally backs down, growling all the time. I know he will not give up—it’s not in his nature, but neither is it in me to give in. For the time being at least, I can now relax. I slump back in my chair in exhaustion…and relief. My claws have receded, and I run a hand over my face, grimacing as I feel the bristly stubble against my palm. Not the image I usually like to present as the head of the BMI corporation.
The struggle to keep my wolf leashed is taking its toll on me as well as my pack. I haven’t slept well in months and have lost weight. Running BMI, much less the pack, is a full-time job, and ever since my wolf has been fighting for dominance, a lot has been pushed to the back burner, including my personal grooming. Not that it seems to matter to females—they still want to screw the Alpha, even when he looks like shit.
But my battle with my wolf has taken all my energy, even for fucking. I can’t even remember the last time I fucked, or who with. Ever since my wolf decided he wanted to be in control, it’s been one constant struggle, with no time for anything else.
My wolf is strong, the strongest in the pack, which is why I’m the Alpha. His strength has enhanced mine, and we’ve been lifelong allies—until now. I don’t know why he’s suddenly turned rabid and tried to bite me in the balls, but I’m sure as fuck tired of it.
I give my head a sharp shake and try to concentrate on the contract in front of me. Land adjacent to pack property has just come up for sale, and I want to buy it. Problem is that one of the pack went a little crazy and tore up the vineyard a few years back. Now the landowner, Mr. Potts, is operating under the sell to anyone but the troublemakers next door policy. The words swim in front of my eyes as the beast inside crouches, snarls.
“Got a minute, Garrett?” Cairns, the beta, steps in.
“What?” I snap.
“Looking a little tense, aren’t you?” He slows, stopping short of my desk. His keeps his eyes down. My beast is so close to the surface that any stray eye contact would be read as a challenge. “That’s the second desk you’ve ruined in the last month.”
I drop my own gaze. I barely noticed my fingers elongating into black, razor-sharp claws that dig into the surface of my desk, the mahogany gouged beyond repair.
The noises outside my office seem to be escalating, and now that I’m back in control, I can hear more clearly—particularly a new female voice. My keen ears pick up a strain of panic edging her words.
“What’s going on out there?” I jerk my head toward the outside office, and my wolf bristles in response.
Cairns shrugs, his head still slightly bowed. “I found something the other day. I think you’ll like her.”
My sneer turns into a grimace of agony as my wolf suddenly surges. What the—! It’s the first time the attacks have been so close together. I growl, rage filling me. I hit the desk with my fist with all my strength, and the wood groans and cracks. Pain shoots up my arm, but I barely feel it as my wolf snaps and bites, and then he lunges. I grab the ruined desk again, and a howl emerges from my throat. Red followed by black washes over my eyes.
Dimly, I hear Cairns yell, “Oh, shit! Plume, get your ass in here! He’s having a meltdown!”
I bare my teeth and leap over the desk. Cairns drops and rolls onto his back. Footsteps charge down the terrace. My wolf senses threats on all sides. I place a heel on Cairn’s neck and feel the change come over me.
The beast is back.
Her
“I think I’d like to leave now.” My mouth’s dry, but my hands are sweaty. Go figure. I smooth them against my skirt. “This isn’t what I thought it was.” You all aren’t what I thought you were.
Pretty Boy ignores my request.
“Why don’t you wait in Garrett’s office.” His hand clamps under my right elbow, not painfully but insistently, and steers me toward the door.
I dig the heels of my flats into the heavy carpet. “Nah, I’m good. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to work here.”
I barely have the words out of my mouth when I find my feet completely off the ground. I look to my left and find “Mike” the security guard, who’d said I was perfect, with his hand under my left elbow. The two of them are holding me up by my elbows! Immediately, I start to struggle.
“Let me go!” I kick my feet and try to wriggle free, but their hands are like steel cages. The traitorous secretary hurries forward and opens the door. “This is kidnapping. I’m going to have you arrested!”
All three ignore my yells. The two men drop me once we’re inside the office, and faster than I can say “wait,” the secretary and Mike, the goon, have left. The door thuds closed behind them. I lunge for the door and tug on it, except the damn block of wood doesn’t move. I twist the knob, but there’s absolutely no give to it.
I yank one more time and then give in, kicking the door in frustration. Whirling, I confront Pretty Boy. “My parents know I’m here. You can’t keep me in here and do stuff to me.”
He raises both eyebrows. “What is it that you think we’re going to do?”
“I don’t know. Obviously nothing good or you’d let me go. No admin is paid six figures for answering phones and filing papers. If you let me go, I won’t go to the police. We’ll chalk this up to a big misunderstanding and go our separate ways.” My stomach is in knots. I clench my fists at my sides and look around for weapons. There’s a couple of paintings of big dogs on the wall. There are two huge leather sofas. On the coffee table between the sofas there’s a big wooden bowl full of apples. I guess I can hurl apples at Pretty Boy? But what good does that do if I can’t get the door open?
Pretty Boy pulls a phone
out of his pocket and lays it on the table.
“What’s that?” I ask suspiciously.
“Call your parents.” And then he’s gone.
I stare at the door he just exited through. How is it that these people move so damn fast? I try the door again, but while Pretty Boy, the secretary, and Mike, the goon, can all open and close the door, I can’t even move the door handle.
There’s a trick to this. I go to the coffee table near the door and run my hands around the edges. I poke and prod, listening for a latch or a lock or whatever it is that I’m supposed to hear when I tap my fist against the wood.
After a minute of fruitless searching, I give up and dig my phone out of my bag, ignoring the one Pretty Boy left behind. I press my mother’s number.
“Hello?”
“Mom.” I sag against the door in relief. “Where are you?”
“We’re on our way back to town.”
“Turn around. Or call the police and then turn around.”
“Why would we do that?” she laughs. Only it’s not a real laugh. It’s a forced one.
The hand holding the phone starts to shake. I grab my wrist to steady it. “Because they’ve locked me in a room and I can’t get out. I don’t want to work here. I don’t even think that they have a real job for me. There’s a woman here who’s already working as the admin. Please, come and get me.”
“You really need to be less hysterical, sweetheart. It’s just a job.”
“Mom, they’re holding me here against my will. They put me in an office and I can’t open the door!” I slam my hand against the wooden frame for emphasis, which is stupid because she can’t see, plus I hurt my hand. I cradle the thing in my lap and try to penetrate my mom’s dense skull. “Please,” I beg. “Please, come and get me.”
