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)
Eagleton is checking place cards. “Uh, one moment, Madi. It looks like there’s been a mixup.” Eagleton frowns at the place settings. “I’ll get Amanda.” He walks off, flagging a young woman who’s speaking to a caterer.
I sidle up to Blackthroat. “Do you typically banish your plus ones to another table?”
“I would have if I’d known it was an option.” But he doesn't look happy. “You told her you were coming?”
“As ordered.” I keep my tone light.
Billy takes his place at the table and salutes me with not one, but two glasses of champagne. “Maybe she seats assistants elsewhere. By the kitchens.” He can’t wait for me to do a walk of shame to the back of the room. “So if a waiter calls in sick, you can step in and serve the meal.”
Regulating me to servant status. Typically rich fuck boy games.
I keep my expression serene. This doesn’t hurt, doesn’t sting. “Sounds smart.” I nod to his soon-to-be-empty drinks. “Although if she really was going for convenience, she’d place you near the bar. Or behind it.”
Blackthroat steps between me and his dick-head COO. “She made the mistake of letting Billy behind the bar before. We never did find that missing case of special reserve whiskey.”
“Hi Brick.” Amanda has arrived. From the starry eyes she gives Blackthroat, I know exactly who messed up the place setting.
“I need a spot at my table for my assistant, Madison Evans.” Is there extra emphasis on the word assistant?
“Madi,” I correct, not that anyone cares.
“Oh, ooh.” Amanda pulls a regretful face before even looking at the table assignments. “Your table is completely full, Brick.” She offers a fake wince.
I’d love to slap that smug expression right off her face.
“Figure it out, Amanda.”
Classic Blackthroat. I love the guy. I really do.
“Um, okay, well…” She bites her lip and makes a show out of looking over the table assignment lists.
Meanwhile, Billy waves his empty glass at me. “Refill?” he mouths, like I’m the waitress.
I press my lips together, so I don’t tell him to fuck off. Still smirking, Billy gets up and heads to the bar.
“Brick Blackthroat!” An elegant older woman, possibly in her seventies, glides over with a broad smile on her face.
“Madison?” he murmurs.
“Eleanor Harrington, heiress to the Torrent Cosmetic company and well-known philanthropist,” I murmur back.
“How good to see you.” The older woman offers her hand to Blackthroat. The wealth of emerald and diamonds glittering at her ears, wrists and neck threaten to blind me. There are disco balls with less sparkle. “Please, introduce me to your date.”
“My assistant. This is Madison Evans. Madison…”
“Eleanor Harrington,” I finish for him. “How wonderful to meet you.”
The woman’s penciled brows shoot up. “Oh, goodness. You know me? I’m flattered, darling. So, you work for Brick?”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s an absolute honor.”
Blackthroat makes a slight snorting sound beside me.
She peers at me with interest. I can’t imagine what she finds so fascinating. Blackthroat made it clear that I’m not his date, just his assistant. “I’m sure you’re very talented if Moon Co. has snatched you up.”
“Oh, well…”
“She’s brilliant,” Blackthroat says firmly. Once again his hand has found its way to my lower back, and just like that, I’m his date, and not just an employee. I try not to love the feel of it too much.
“Where did you go to school, darling?”
“Princeton.”
It’s one thing to be treated like the help by the likes of Billy and Amanda. It’s another for a random guest to pay attention to me, especially an older socialite. She’s not interested in me because of my cleavage.
“You must be very bright. I’m sure Mr. Blackthroat is paying you well, but if you’re looking for a change, I could probably match it.” Eleanor hands me a card.
“Oh, um…” I stare at it dumbfounded then glance up at Blackthroat to see how he’s taking it.
After Ms. Harrington leaves, I ask, “Is that normal? To try and poach someone’s employee right in front of them?”
Blackthroat seems as puzzled as I am. His brows are down, his gaze still on the older woman’s back. He takes the card from me and brings it to his nose, which is bizarre. I take it back and sniff it, but there’s no perfume or other scent.
“Huh,” Blackthroat says.
“What is it? I feel like I’m missing something important here.”
Blackthroat looks thoughtful. “So do I,” he says, but offers no more, other than to take the card back from me and drop it in his pocket.
“Brick, I can squeeze your assistant in at a table in the corner–” Amanda pipes up.
“I want her at my table, Amanda. Beside me. Figure it out.”
“Of course, Brick.”
I want to throat punch her for calling him by his first name. I mean, where does she get off?
Apparently, Blackthroat also has had enough because he uses the hand at my back to propel me to the seat next to him. He plucks the place card and swaps it with the one across the way. It bears the label for William White, which I know isn’t going to go over well, but I sit, because my feet are killing me. Blackthroat settles beside me and pulls out the index cards his sister gave him.