Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Friday is not ideal as it’s the company holiday party, and I need to be around to field the demands on Blackthroat, but I also don’t want to miss this opportunity. I respond that I will be there and put it on my calendar, so he’ll know I’m going to be away. Hopefully it won’t blow up in my face.
Jerry, the janitor, is already almost finished with cleaning our floor when I finally get ready to leave.
“The boss is already gone, huh?” He sends me a friendly smile. He’s used to seeing us both in here late.
“Yep. He left early for a change.”
“So why are you still here?”
I shrug. “Trying to get ahead of him, I guess.” It’s just small talk.
Jerry’s an older guy in his sixties but still totally fit. He wears jeans and flannel shirts, which always strikes me as odd because the rest of the janitors I’ve seen around the building wear blue Dickies uniforms.
“Jerry, I love that you get to wear jeans to work. How is it you have special privileges?”
“Aw, I work after hours, so no one has to see what I wear.” He waves a gloved hand at me. “No one except you and the big boss when you’re here burning the midnight oil.”
Big Bad Boss.
My chest tightens again thinking of Blackthroat. It’s striking how different I feel about him now that he’s shown me his vulnerabilities.
“But even when I leave, the janitorial staff on the first level is in uniform.”
“Ah, they said you were bright. You know what, Madi? I just wear whatever I damn well please. I’m supposed to wear those costumes, but I don’t like the way they feel.”
My brain stutters on the they said you were bright.
Who said that? Why would the janitor be discussing me with anyone? Particularly anyone who knows me?
“You see, my family goes way back with the Blackthroats. We’ve always worked for them. So Moon Co doesn’t fuss much with me. Did you ever wonder why I’m the only one allowed to clean the executive offices? They want it to be someone they trust to prevent corporate espionage and all that.”
Huh. I actually hadn’t wondered, but it makes sense. I guess it’s always who you know on Wall Street. Even for the janitorial positions.
I stand and gather my things. “Are you finishing up? Should I get the lights?”
“No, I’ll get them, Madi. You head on home. I’ve got everything here taken care of.”
“Okay, goodnight.”
I take the elevator downstairs, sagging against one wall as I immediately forget Jerry and return to the problem of Brick and his mother. What an awful situation.
My energy reserves feel empty, and I realize I haven’t eaten much today. I put in an order for eggplant lasagna and ask Tony if he’ll drop me off at the restaurant again. A short walk to stretch my legs and a hot meal will do me good.
There’s a black limo parked in front of the restaurant when I come out. At first, I think it’s Tony, waiting for me even though I told him I needed a walk. But there’s a different driver behind the wheel. For one brief, heart-flopping moment, I think it might be Brick, until I remember he left in the helicopter.
I head towards my apartment, cutting between buildings. The wind is icy, and I duck my head.
The limo follows me. I slow my steps as it stops. The driver hops out and opens the back door and beckons toward it, as if I could get in. “Ms. Evans,” he says, as if we know each other. Which we don’t. He’s not Tony or Blackthroat’s driver.
I don’t know what’s going on.
I walk a little closer, eyeing the darkened interior of the limo. I’m not dumb enough to get in a strange car, not even when it’s a limo, but I’m curious.
“Madison.”
I recognize the creepy, rasping voice, before the fair-haired man in a long, dark coat climbs out of the limo. Aiden Adalwulf.
I back away slowly. I’m in a quiet alleyway between brick buildings. The narrow street is a shortcut, and it’s well lit, but typically empty.
Not tonight. Up ahead, a big guy strolls towards me, his sleek suit doing nothing to narrow the bulk of his arms and shoulders. He looks like one of the bodyguards who flanked Aiden when he accosted me at the coffee shop. Behind me, just past the limo, his twin closes in. They’re both huge, taking up more than their fair share of the alley, strolling slowly like they don't have a care in the world. I know without a doubt that they’re here to stop me from escaping before I talk to their boss.
On a scale of one to swiping right on Patrick Bateman, how much trouble am I in?
Aiden is a respectable businessman. Sure, he’s cutthroat, but what Wall Street executive isn't? And yes, he gives off serial killer vibes, but he wouldn’t literally cut my throat. At least not here, in the middle of a bustling neighborhood. Shops and restaurants full of people are only a block away.