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)
My wolf hates that Tony gets to be the guy who ushers her out of the limo.
As soon as I can, I step in and offer my arm. I can’t help it. Madison’s brows shoot up to her hairline, but she accepts. Her touch is light and delicate, searing me through my tuxedo jacket. Even in her stilettos, I tower over her.
I stride up the red carpet, past flashing cameras. Madison’s grip tightens.
It’s all right, I want to soothe her. The red carpet paparazzi can be intimidating at first. You look perfect. And she does. She looks like she belongs.
Except she’s struggling to keep up with my long strides. I slow down, so she only has to take two steps to my one.
“I told you not to wear those things,” I mutter, glaring at her high heels.
“Your suggestion was noted and rejected.” Her red lips barely move. She’s already perfected the art of whispering while smiling at the cameras.
“It wasn’t a suggestion.”
“What else would I wear with a twenty thousand dollar dress?”
“Whatever you damn well please. Except, in this case, it would be what I please.”
She gazes up at me with an adoring expression, hamming it up for our audience, and Fates, it’s all I can do not to rip off her gown and claim her right here.
“Next time, you obey.”
“Next time?” Her eyes widen, and she stumbles. I steady her with a hand on my arm.
“Careful.”
Her cheeks flush. From nerves? Or my touch? “Fine. Next time I’ll wear Birkenstocks and a mumu. Happy?”
“Very.” As if a mumu will put me off. I’ll just want to tear it off her.
Reporters call out to us, asking for us to stop on a step and pose. I ignore them. Another cameraman steps in front of us, desperate to get a newsworthy shot, and I growl, stepping between him and Madison. I set a hand at her back to urge her forward and shield her with my body as she hurries up the steps. Her hips roll under the skin-skimming satin, and I stop, fighting the urge to leap up the steps and capture her. This isn’t a hunt, and Madison is not my oh-so-delicious prey.
I have to remember that.
“Mr. Blackthroat!” more reporters call. I throw up a hand in a wave, giving them the shot they’re jonesing for.
When I catch up to Madison, she’s caught her breath. “Next time I’ll wear running shoes,” she promises.
“Good plan.” We move inside and join the receiving line. I scan the large hall, clocking familiar faces mingled with the strangers.
A female hustles by in a cloud of hairspray and cloying perfume. I turn to Madison, breathing in citrus and nutmeg. As delicate as it is, her scent dominates all others. My lips hover at her hairline.
She blinks up at me. You all right? Her golden brown eyes search mine.
“Time to earn your ticket.” I jerk a chin at the crowd. “Benson Senior.” I quiz her.
“There, entering the ballroom,” she says although I can’t see how she sees anything, as short as she is. “Grey suit, toupee.”
“That’s a toupee?” The shock of white hair looks real.
“Yes.”
When we get close to Benson Senior, I’ll be able to scent the truth. In the meantime, I nod, accepting her judgment. She does her homework. She probably has a stack of research on hairpieces she compiled one handed while the stylists did her nails.
At the door, Jake is escorting a stooped gray-haired woman past my sister.
I duck my head to murmur in Madison’s ear, letting her scent wash over me while I have the pretense of testing her. “Who’s Jake with?”
“Dr. Jeanine Natale. Vice-President of the Blackthroat Foundation. Dr. Natale is a noted author and physicist. Her family are philanthropists who have always been a part of New York’s high society.”
“How about this asshole?” I ask as Billy finds his way to us.
“Mr. William White, Chief Operating Officer of Moon Co., graduated…” she trails off as he reaches us. He shakes my hand but has a frown firmly in place for Madison.
“Go on,” I prompt her.
“Graduated from Yale University in 2012, the same year you did. Original founding member of Moon Co. and prep school friend.”
“What’s this?” There’s enough scorn in Billy’s voice to strip the nail polish off Madi’s nails, but she doesn’t react.
I step between her and him. My wolf doesn’t want any other male close to Madison. “Testing my human computer. How’s it going?”
“Why did you bring her?” Billy’s nose twitches. I’ve seen him look at roadkill with less disgust.
“I just demonstrated why.” I keep my voice bland. I don’t have to explain myself to Billy. “This way.” I hover a hand at Madison’s back as we walk forward. Subtly staking claim. Billy’s eyes narrow at Madison’s back, but he gets the message. He looks down on all humans, he’s always been a prick like that.