Jonathan graces me with his hot hunk smile, completely oblivious to my sarcasm. Poor thing.

  “Great! I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  I watch as he rushes to the couple. The man has his arm around the woman’s waist, leaning close to her ear. Their cheeks press together. She giggles and cups his face. The love they share is clear on their cheerful faces.

  Now, why can’t I find a man who will stare at me like I’m his moon and stars and not scowl like I’m a pesky burden?

  CHAPTER 3

  Wren

  “You know, I was thinking about what you said about reducing your dependence on your uncle. A client told me about a job opening at her company, Larson Enterprises, Inc. She’s in the Human Resources department and learned the COO wants a social assistant. Someone who can help him with his social calendar, like scheduling events, coordinating functions, and attending them with him. Yada, yada, yada. I thought about you since that’s your thing, Ms. Socialite. She said the salary was pretty high for the position. The COO wants someone he can trust and knows her stuff. Not someone who will look for a big fat diamond ring. He’s a sexy as sin billionaire, by the way. I looked him up.”

  Maya giggles.

  We finished an outdoor session in the park next to Biscayne Bay and went across the street to Pura Vida for açaí bowls. Sitting on the open field of grass surrounded by palm trees blowing in the balmy breeze, the morning sun shines on us, making her topaz eyes sparkle. I grin back.

  The thought of a job that pays me enough I won’t need to rely on Uncle George’s monthly allotment and makes me responsible for myself fills my heart with happiness. I could prove I’m capable and not flighty like my father. Never do I think of my Dad in that way.

  But Uncle George rarely lets a day go by he doesn’t remind me how disappointed he is in my father not taking his place at Byrd Capital. He thinks my father wasted his life and married beneath the family. Even my name irks Uncle George. Wren Byrd. Bird Bird. Such a silly name!

  Silly or not, it’s my name. One of the few things I still have from my parents.

  Uncle George told me I was to begin my new life with him and Wretched Gretchen fresh. Leave that nonsense your father instilled in you and whatever he gave you behind. At nine, saddened by the loss of my parents, and unable to stand up for myself, I had no choice but to obey his command. My name, memories, and photo albums survived. I cherish them. Even now, my heart clenches. I miss my parents constantly.

  A chance to get from under Uncle George’s control would be a win. I’ll use all the etiquette classes and event planning sessions he and Wretched Gretchen insisted I take part in. Social connections the Byrd name generates prove an added bonus. I’m on the list for invitations to the best galas, fundraisers, and intimate gatherings in Miami and beyond. I find it hilarious the very means to escape and to prove I can make my own way in life comes from them!

  Laughter bubbles up. I let it tumble from between my upturned lips until tears leak from the corners of my eyes. I laugh even harder when Maya joins in. So thankful for her, I throw my arms around my best friend. After we catch our breath, I sit back.

  “How do I apply?”

  “Atta girl! I’ll send a text message to my client right now,” Maya says as she whips her mobile from her duffle bag.

  I watch as her fingers fly over the mobile screen. She pauses, then grins and types some more. Eager to know what’s being said, I peer over her shoulder. I can’t make out much. So, I sit back and pull my knees to my chest. Please, oh, please, oh please! I chant inwardly until Maya drops her mobile back in the bag and grins at me with a thumbs up.

  “You’re all set for an interview tomorrow morning at nine. I texted the details to you. She’s excited to meet you since I kind of name-dropped who you are and all. Gotta use what you got to get what you want, you know,” Maya says with a wink. “I have back-to-back client sessions. After, I’ll come to your condo. We’ll pick the best outfit and hairstyle. Sounds good?”

  I hug her again.

  “Absolutely! Thanks so much, bestie!”

  A hot guy in a tank top and stretch-shell shorts lopes over and drops next to her. She startles as he says, boo. With a wry look, Maya folds her arms across her full breasts and tells him he’ll do ten extra burpees double-time. He groans and falls to his back with an arm over his face dramatically. His head tilts towards me, and he winks. We laugh at his antics.

  I bid them goodbye as I gather the empty açaí bowls and my crossbody bag. So excited for the job, I all but skip away clicking my heels! I toss the bowls into the trash can and head to my car.

  A smile spreads across my face as I near it. My most recent nod to the more confident me is my birthday present—a BMW i4 eDrive40, the electric Gran Coupe. Upon first glance, the mineral white metallic exterior is simple. However, on closer inspection behind the tinted windows, the red leather interior gives a glimpse of my budding sassiness. Plus, it’s better for the environment.

  Naturally, Uncle George called it a ridiculous waste of more than $70K for a car with a gaudy interior. I held my tongue as he signed off on the purchase with his AMEX Centurion Card. Then I giddily slid behind the wheel, just like I do now.

  I close my eyes as my fingers tighten around the steering wheel.

  “Wren Byrd, you will get this job, do well at it, and prove to Uncle George you are more than capable of taking care of yourself. Live your life!”

  Happy, I sing aloud the lyrics from my personal anthem playlist as the warm sun and breeze fill my car. At a red stoplight, a little girl in a car beside mine giggles as she watches me belting out Rihanna’s lyrics from T.I.’s “Live Your Life.” I grin at her and hope she never has to deal with controlling people. Ever. When the stoplight changes to green, I wave at her. She puts her palm on her window and smiles. A good sign. My heart soars higher.

  I thank my condo building’s valet as I step from my car and slip a tip into his hand with a smile. He thanks me with a nod and slides behind the wheel. I hurry to the lobby, eager to get upstairs. The doorman greets me with a tilt of his head. I smile my thanks and wave at the concierge who wishes me a good day. It certainly is one!

  As always, the endless expanse of the Atlantic Ocean beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of my living room takes my breath away. The view from the fifty-fourth floor of my condo can’t get any better.

  Virginia Key, Fisher Island, and Dodge Island appear between the Atlantic Ocean and Biscayne Bay as I walk through the oversized living room with buttery soft sand-colored leather sofas and chairs. The golden sand-colored floor tiles angle toward the wall of windows to draw me closer. Out on the terrace, my gaze drops to my uncle and aunt’s oceanfront mansion on Fisher Island.

  My heart races at the sight of where I spent most of my years growing up miserable. I close my eyes on a long inhalation, then open them at the same pace on the exhalation. Maya’s deep cleansing breath technique clears the negativity.

  “Live your life, Wren Byrd!” I exclaim as my hands clap and my curvy hips shimmy. “Time to shower, put together your résumé, and check out your closet for a killer interview outfit!”

  Hours later, Maya arrives. She showers and changes into a t-shirt and yoga pants in the second bedroom suite. It’s become her home away from home.

  “Okay, show me what you got,” she announces as she steps into the sitting room, where I wait for her to finish. I jump to my feet and take her hand.

  She giggles as I drag her down the hallway to the third bedroom suite converted into a dressing room. It’s one of the few Wretched Gretchen’s suggestions I agree with since I have tons of formal attire, evening wear, handbags, shoes, and accessories, not to mention regular daywear. It might as well be a posh mini boutique on Manhattan’s Fifth Avenue. However, I donate the worn-once designer gowns to fundraising auctions to benefit various charities. Uncle George can’t call that wasteful!

  “Nice options, Wren! I really like that yellow suit. It brings out the rich mahogany color of your hair if you wear it loose down your back. Oh! The belted midi dress is so feminine. Hmmm… You can never go wrong with my fellow Venezuelan, Ms. Carolina Herrera, you know…”

  I grin wider than the Cheshire Cat as Maya makes her way down the row of clothes. She has such an expert eye. I value her opinion.

  “Well, you want to go for chic and confident with your appearance, giving the air of a wealthy socialite. One who knows her stuff. Can handle an Alpha billionaire boss,” Maya says as she taps a manicured fingernail against her full lips. Her assessing gaze sweeps over the outfits slowly.

  My grin stretches further when she points at the navy blue sheath with matching waist-length jacket.

  “This is it, chica!” Maya exclaims. “With those stilettos and your hair loose. Just accent your eyes, leaving your lips with a subtle pink stain.”

  “Perfect! I’ll carry my powder blue top-handle bag since it fits my résumé portfolio. Will you take a look at it? I want to be sure I missed nothing.”

  We chat while I put the other items away before heading to the den where I left my laptop. Maya gives some recommendations on my résumé, and I make the changes. With a flourish, I place five copies in the portfolio. Maya claps enthusiastically, then grins.

  “Okay, I’m hungry. Let’s order some sushi. We can catch up on our fave Bling Empire. I rescheduled my morning sessions so I can spend the night, then help you get ready.”

  “Thanks so much, bestie!” I say as I throw my arms around her for a big hug. “You’re the best bestie a girl could ever want!”

  We laugh as Maya pulls out her mobile and places our delivery order. I grab the flat-screen television remote and switch to Netflix, settling in for a fun night. Excited butterflies flutter in my belly. I can’t wait to start my new job. The power of positive thinking—another of Maya’s techniques—makes me smile happily. You’ve got this, Wren Byrd!

  “Well, Wren, you impressed my colleagues and me with your education at Harvard, your experience with not only attending significant galas, but organizing them, and with your willingness to work long hours and on the weekends as necessary.

  “Mr. Dahl has high expectations for all of Larson Enterprises’ employees, especially for those who work with him in a direct capacity. As his social assistant, you would work closely with him.

  “However, I must emphasize the need to maintain complete professionalism at all times. Mr. Dahl has the need of a trusted employee, not of a female interested in using the unique working situation as a means to marriage. Am I clear?”

  The Head of Human Resources pauses to peer at me. Her fathomless obsidian eyes reach into the very depths of my soul.

  I agree, then force myself to sit still under her intense scrutiny. Again, it’s something I learned because of Uncle George and can apply it towards me getting this job.

  After an almost imperceptible nod, she relaxes back in the leather seat behind her desk.

  “Mr. Dahl is on an extended business trip and cannot meet you. However, he wants the position filled before he returns next week. My team and I have a few other candidates to interview before I make the final decision. Either way, we will be in touch. Thank you for meeting with us, Wren. My administrative assistant will see you to the elevators. Good day.”

  Tag

  “Good morning, Mr. Dahl.”

  “Hello, Mr. Dahl, sir.”

  I nod brusquely in response to the greetings from staff as I stride through The Larson Tower lobby towards the executive floor elevator.

  Even though it’s been weeks since the charity gala, I’m still on edge. No matter how much I searched the terrace, ballroom, hell, even the entire hotel, I couldn’t find the she-wolf with the unique scent of my fated mate. Talk about frustration.

  But I set the pursuit aside because of a business trip the next day. Not able to cancel it, I had no other choice but to spend the past three weeks in our Charleston, Atlanta, New Orleans, and Houston offices.

  At least once every other quarter, I show up unannounced. No better way to gauge productivity and to check on staff behavior than to catch them unaware. Rarely do I find problems requiring reprimand since our leadership team does an excellent job of running their offices.

  Most of the team comprises members of the Miami Wolves Pack. Their loyalty and respect keep them on the straight and narrow. Naturally, their share in the profits as pack members serve as serious encouragement. The human team members do not disappoint—most of the time.

  It was a successful trip. But I’m glad to be back at headquarters.

  I check the time on my watch. Before the weekly staff meeting at nine, the Head of Human Resources—a she-wolf—has my new social assistant scheduled to arrive at my offices. I reviewed her application—along with the other top five candidates—and agree on paper she’s the best choice. I added a sixty-day trial period clause in her contract just in case. She doesn’t appear Katrina-like. But who knows?

  My mobile chimes with an incoming text message. I take it out of the breast pocket of my bespoke three-piece suit. I smirk at the mobile screen. Viggo invites me to a party for a popular human female singer at Club Hati—one of Larson Enterprises’ venues in his portfolio. He chose the name as a nod to Norse mythology. The wolf Hati chases the moon, across the night sky. His counterpart the wolf Sköll chases the sun during the day. They do so until the time of Ragnarök when they will swallow the heavenly bodies. The club caters to wolf shifters and humans.

  I shrug. Why not? I could use a distraction after these past few weeks. My wolf and I need more sexual release than my hand allows, but nothing more than a one-nighter. At this point in my life, I don’t want a relationship and none of the drama that comes along with one.

  And that includes pushing aside the dull ache for my fated mate’s touch. It’s best I can’t find the elusive she-wolf. Undoubtedly, I can find a nice morsel to feast upon at the party and get my mind off a fated mate. My cock twitches at the thought as I reply to Viggo’s text.

  Punching in the code for the private elevator, I adjust the burgeoning erection then step inside. The elevator will automatically go to the executive floor since it’s the only stop besides the lobby. As the doors close, a female’s manicured fingers—one with an engagement ring—slip between the bit of space. I frown. Only the C-suite uses this elevator. The rest of the staff take the general elevators. Who the hell is this?

  Then it hits me dead on this time.

  The tantalizing aroma of cinnamon sugar caramel apples. The scent of my fated mate—the only she-wolf destined for me.

  Forget burgeoning. My cock punches the front of my trousers instantly. A growl rumbles in my chest. My wolf throws his massive brown head back and issues a feral, lust-filled howl. My nostrils flare as I inhale deeply. Emerald green eyes flash as they narrow on the slit between the elevator doors.

  Who are you?

  The doors slide open.

  A petite human female in a body skimming green dress that stops at the midpoint of her shapely calves ending in fuck-me stilettos with a sexy touch of toe cleavage enters. The fit of the dress accentuates her mouthwatering tits and luscious curves. Lustrous mahogany brown hair ripples down her back. Soulful mink brown eyes widen as her pouty lips form a perfect O. A rose flush licks at her exposed collarbone, up her throat, and to her cheeks. The first taste of her arousal teases me, increasing the saliva pooling in my hungry mouth.

  The doors slide close.

  CHAPTER 4

  Wren

  “Whoa, Wren! Look at you. Your new boss better watch out or he just may fall in love with you at first sight regardless of the no employer-employee relationships stipulation!”

  I giggle at Maya’s compliment, then glance down at the new outfit for my first day at Larson Enterprises.

  The goal isn’t to make Mr. Dahl fall for me. Rather, I want to combine the style of a socialite with my budding confidence.

  The jewel green midi dress flatters my BBW figure. The interlocking twist drape bodice, darted seams, and fitted skirt highlight my curves just enough without going beyond professional. Flesh-tone slingbacks lengthen my legs and give my generous butt a nice lift. A hunter green top-handle bag finishes the look.

  “It’s not too much, is it?” I ask as I nibble my lower lip, now concerned. “I don’t want to give off the wrong impression. Maybe I should wear the—”

  “Oh no, you won’t. This is perfect. You’re not going to work at a corporate law office. The company is in the hospitality industry—clubs, hotels, restaurants. Plus, you’re his social assistant, not his accountant.”

  Maya picks up my handbag and ushers me out of the dressing room towards the front door of my condo. I laugh and take the bag, then loop my arm through hers. We part in the garage. She hugs me and tells me good luck. I grin and thank her.

  The drive to The Larson Tower takes no time. I bop to the music from my encouragement playlist to pump me up. Beyoncé’s “Run The World (Girls)” blasts from the surround sound. My left foot taps to the beat. Yes!

  I don’t even care when a guy in a sleek sports car frowns at me. Instead, I wave and zip ahead when the traffic light changes. My confidence rises with the speedometer—although I stay within the posted limit. Let’s not go crazy, now!

  In the lobby, I present my employee badge to the security guards behind their station, then follow where a guard points to the elevators. As I approach one, the doors begin to shut. Not wanting to risk a late arrival to meet Mr. Dahl, I rush forward and slip my hand in the gap. Relieved, I step inside.

  I freeze.

  The provocative scent of vetiver seamlessly blended with citrus, rich spices, and fresh woods fills my nose as the cologne sensuously molds around my body. Nipples tighten, that sensitive nubbin at the apex of my thighs pulses as my gaze settles on an impeccably dressed man. He’s so tall, my eyes only reach his powerful chest. They scan up his muscular body to broad shoulders and to a face kissed by Aphrodite herself.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17