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As I walk around my desk, my wolf growls at that mental pronouncement. He wants her. Twenty-four hours a day he’s driving me in her direction. To mark her. To claim her. To keep her.
As impossible as it may be, it’s hard for me to deny the pull. The attraction isn’t just sexual, either. I can’t blame it on pheromones and my wolf. I find everything about Madison Evans fascinating. She has all the qualities of an alpha female–if only she were a wolf.
She’s capability-porn in motion. Brilliant. Well-spoken but sassy. She’s not dramatic or particularly manipulative, but she does manage to get her way. When she doesn’t, she handles it with more grace than anyone I’ve ever seen.
I’m falling in love with her.
I drop into my chair.
Fell. It’s already in motion. My heart’s in play.
My executive team is right. This problem with the assistant has gotten out of hand. Way out of hand.
Yet, I can’t find it in me to pull back.
Every cell in my body screams for me to just move forward. Claim the girl with her inferior genes. Make her mine, even though it could mean losing everything–my position as alpha, even my pack.
* * *
Madi
I compartmentalize for a few hours, focusing on the fires that need to be put out around the office, then I pick up the phone to call my mom.
Her last class ends at four, so she should be available to pick up. “Hi, sweetheart!” she exclaims, like she’s shocked that I called. A stab of guilt hits me for being so engulfed in my job that I haven’t called her at school in weeks. “What’s going on?”
“Well, I’m still at work. I had lunch with Eleanor Harrington today.”
“What?” The shock in my mom’s voice is all I need to confirm Brick’s suspicions. “I’m sorry, who did you say?”
“Eleanor Harrington. Do you know her?”
“Uh, well…I’ve met her once or twice. She’s one of the donors at Landhower.”
“Yes. I understand she was the donor who funded my education there.”
“Did she tell you that?” I sense a note of hysteria in my mom’s voice.
“No.” I don’t say any more. I know from all the books I’ve read on interrogation and negotiation, the less you say, the more power you hold.
“What did she tell you?”
“Who is she, Mom?”
There’s a pause. “What do you mean?”
“Who is Brett Harrington? What do I need to know here?”
“Maybe you should come over for dinner tonight.” My mom sounds defeated. “I can answer all your questions.”
“I can’t come tonight,” I snap. “I have the company holiday party. I need the answers now, Mom. Please. I really hate when I don’t have a full picture, especially when it comes to my own life.”
“It sounds like you already know, Madi. What do you want me to say?”
I fling my free hand in the air in exasperation. “Give me the abridged version. Just some concrete facts.”
“Okay.” She draws in an audible breath. “Brett Harrington is your dad. I met him at Oxford when I was there for my PhD. When I told him I was pregnant, he asked me to get an abortion. I refused, and we broke up. Eleanor flew out and paid me a visit. She offered me a large sum of money if I would end the pregnancy. I told her to go fuck herself. She got nasty–threatened to get me thrown out of Oxford through her contacts there. I decided if the Harrington’s were so eager not to be associated with us, I didn’t want any part of them. I called Brett–your sperm donor–and told him I’d miscarried, and he didn’t need to worry about the baby. He never followed up, but his mom wasn’t so easy to get rid of. So we came to an agreement.”
Nausea rolls over me again. “What was the agreement?”
