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“She is?” Eagle repeats.
I grab my coat from the hook and pull it on as I scan the desk. “What do I need? Laptop? Paperwork?”
“Just that smart brain of yours. Maybe a notebook. Listen and remember. That’s all. Let’s go.”
Eagle shoots Blackthroat a look and opens his mouth but then closes it again as if he reconsidered.
I try to quiet the flutters of pleasure in my chest that Blackthroat wants me along. He’s come to rely on me. He trusts me.
I don’t know why it means so much, but it does. It’s impossible for me to untangle whether it’s personal or job-related. Especially when I’ve spent the last two weeks in every possible position on the man’s desk.
Which truly gives new meaning to job dedication.
The executive team hates it–Eagle included. I’m not sure how they know we’ve continued to, ah, be intimate, but it’s obvious they do.
The three of us step into the elevator. Blackthroat is edgy, with the restless, potent energy he seems to have every morning before we’ve had sex. He usually demands it first thing, like he can’t focus until he gets off. Days like today when his schedule doesn’t permit it, he’s crabby as hell. Someone usually ends up getting fired or severely dressed down.
Blackthroat draws a deep, audible breath in through his nose and holds it, closing his eyes for a beat.
Funny. I wouldn’t have thought of him as a yogic breather. But I’m sure attending this board meeting is a nightmare for him. The Adalwulfs stole the company from him–that has to hurt. It’s probably the reason he hates his mom. Was she a part of it?
“What do you know about Adalwulf Associates?” Blackthroat asks.
“It’s the hedge fund company owned by members of the Adalwulf family. Officially run by your Uncle, Odin Adalwulf, but his son Aiden is said to oversee the day-to-day business now due to Odin’s flagging health. Twelve people sit on the board, including your mother, Catherine Adalwulf, and all her children: you, Ruby, and Scarlett.”
Eagle’s gaze narrows with what looks like mistrust. “You know quite a bit.”
What is he implying? That I’ve been pumping the boss for personal information while I suck his dick? Does he suspect I’m some kind of corporate spy for the Adalwulfs? I keep my spine straight. “My job requires me to understand the dynamics that affect my boss.”
“Does it, though?” Skepticism leaks into Eagle’s voice.
“Don’t.” One word from Blackthroat, and Eagle’s expression goes blank. The guard dog heeds his master’s command.
My stomach flip-flops. I’m not even sure why. Because Blackthroat protected me? I can’t decide if it excites me or makes me nervous. A little of both, I think. I love that I mean something to him, but I also know it won’t end well for me. His execs don’t like it, and they will look for ways to destroy me.
It’s like I can see the jagged teeth of the cliff wall up ahead, the one I’m speeding toward without brakes. Blackthroat isn’t safe. He isn’t safe for me emotionally, and he may not be safe for my career, either.
If I were smart, I’d call that cosmetics heiress from the charity ball, Eleanor Harrington, the one who offered me a job. It wouldn’t hurt to meet with her to have a fall-back plan when things crash and burn here. Because I’m certain now, one way or another, they will crash and burn.
Which is why I put the fifty thousand dollar bonus Blackthroat gave me straight into a savings CD for Brayden’s education. Who knows if he can rely on that scholarship when things go south.
“What else do I need to know?” I ask Blackthroat.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Just pay attention to everything that’s said.” He’s never personable, but this morning he seems grim and distant. Knowing some of his story–or guessing at it–makes my heart ache for him.
“Yes, sir.”
The elevator door opens, and we leave the building to get in the back of a limo parked in front. December snow falls in heavy, wet flakes, coating the windows.
Ruby is already seated in the back. Like Brick, her expression is drawn and tight. She’s far more tense than when she was stressed at the charity ball. This is different. There’s an element of grief to both their countenances, which makes sense. Losing the company must be mingled in with losing their father.
“Hi, Madi,” she says softly. “I’m glad you’re here.”
I work to swallow, trying to unpack what she means by that. She’s glad I’m here to support Brick? Like he needs emotional support? Or she’s glad I have his back professionally? Or is she personally happy to see me? I can’t imagine why that would be the case.
The Adalwulf’s second building is just a five minute drive. The limo double-parks in front, and we climb out onto the sidewalk.
Catherine Adalwulf is waiting in the lobby, apparently for us because she nods to the security guard and ushers us to the elevators.
