Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Yes, sir,” we chorus, but he’s already shut his office door.
“He means before the meeting.” I’m not really asking, but Indira nods. “I got this.” I grab a phone and start dialing. “You get started on the meeting prep. I’ll join you ASAP.”
The head of Tech Acquisitions, Bennetton Burgess, doesn’t answer his direct line. Neither does his assistant. I leave a message and keep redialing. I’ll run down to the thirty-sixth floor and drag him up here if I have to.
Finally, I get someone to pull Mr. Burgess out of an all-team meeting. “Mr. Blackthroat would like to see you on the fifty-fifth floor. Immediately.”
“Now? Did he say what this was about?”
I channel my inner CEO and infuse my voice with strength. You have to out-alpha these guys. It’s the only way they’ll listen. “He did not take the time to explain himself. I only know you need to come in person. He has a hard stop in thirty-two minutes, so if it were me, I’d get on an elevator like my job was at stake.”
Five minutes later, the head of Tech Acquisitions, Bennetton Burgess, storms off the elevator. I detour from the printer to rap on Blackthroat’s door, but he’s already opening it.
“What’s the status of the Morpheus project?” he barks in Burgess’ face.
Mr. Burgess takes a step back, the red flush fading from his face. His gaze goes to the window, to the conference room, to me–anywhere but the Big Bad Boss. “It’s complicated. My team knows the details–”
“You’re fired. Get out.” Blackthroat raps out, his voice like machine gunfire.
Burgess explodes with an f-bomb. “Are you serious?”
Blackthroat just stares him down.
I hover between two desks, my brain frozen. Should I call security? HR? Both? I try to remember protocol.
After a few seconds, Burgess wilts. He walks to the elevator. Blackthroat’s office door slams, jerking me out of my frozen state.
I duck into a cubicle to make the calls. Indira finds me there, finishing up with HR. I hang up and mouth “Whoa.”
“Was that the first time you saw him fire someone?” At my nod, she adds, “It can happen a couple times a day around here. Sometimes several an hour.”
“Is it always that…” I search for the right word.
“Brutal? Yes.” She glances at the clock. “I’m almost done with the conference room. Blackthroat needs a report. And a bottle of water chilled to exactly six degrees celsius.”
“I’ll get the water.”
“How are you going to make sure it’s exactly six degrees celsius?”
“I’ll think of something.” It’s probably just a hoop for me to jump through, but I’m not taking any chances.
The fridge holding the water is set to forty degrees fahrenheit, which is close enough to six degrees celsius. To be safe, I stick the bottle under my arm to warm it up. Some digging, and I find a thermometer in our well stocked first aid kit under the sink. I open the bottle and check. Forty three degrees Fahrenheit on the nose, if the heat of my hand doesn’t warm it up too much before I get across the room.
I hustle to Blackthroat’s office. The door is cracked, so I simply rap on it in warning and open it. The big, bad boss stands by the window, his eyes on his phone and his back to the stunning cityscape.
“Your water, sir.” I extend the bottle, right as the heel of my stiletto catches on a snag in the carpet. Instead of handing my boss his water, I trip and go flying, straight into him.
He catches my forearms and steadies me on my feet. His hands are large and warm, guiding me. He’s not wearing cologne–cologne is banned from the premises–but the clean hit of his masculine scent is like a shot of whiskey to my senses.
Of all the reasons to be fired, it’s going to be for my clumsiness. I should have seen that coming. My prowess on heels is somewhat limited. To make matters worse, I didn’t properly re-screw the top of the water bottle. Water sloshed all over his white dress shirt.
Without thinking, I pat the sodden fabric as if I can blot my mistake away. My palms mold to hard muscle, and my brain fizzles out. There’s one rock solid ab, and another, and another. Wow. How many muscles is his stomach packing?
“Madison.” A gravelly voice snaps me out of my daze. Brick Blackthroat is staring at me, an unreadable expression in his dark brown eyes.
Holy shit, I am groping my boss.
I snatch my hand back. “Excuse me. Sir.” All the blood in my body is rushing to my face. “I’ll get you some towels. And a change of clothes.” I race out of his office and head to the closet by the restroom where a number of freshly dry cleaned suits are hanging. Indira is glowering at the computer screen, whipping the requested report into shape, and doesn’t notice my scramble.