Gone with the Wolf

by Kristin Miller

  But today was different.

  Today he hoped to see the blond vixen who’d stolen his wine and stopped his heart. He searched every passing face for some resemblance to the woman from the cellar, spotted beauties of all shapes and sizes, but none of them compared. None of them held a candle to Emelia Hudson.

  Would he see her walking the lower hallways or would he meet her on the top floor near his office? He held his breath, impatiently waiting until the moment when he’d see her in the light of day.

  He entered a packed elevator, and although he was sure the employees were all going up, they exited upon his entrance, leaving him staring at his own reflection when the doors hissed shut. His dark eyes appeared more strained than normal—probably from the insufficient two hours of shut-eye he’d gotten last night—and his hair was unusually messy, nearly flopping into his eyes. He scrubbed his hands over his face and tunneled his fingers through his hair.

  When he hit the forty-second floor—the penthouse—and the doors yanked back, Drake clenched and unclenched his fists, shook out his arms and exhaled.

  This was it. The moment when he would see Emelia again and know if the connection between them was caused by the wine or something…else.

  Raul Bloomfield, his Beta wolf, charged around the corner and welcomed Drake with a stiff handshake.

  “Good morning, boss,” he said, handing him a note with missed calls on it, listed in order of importance. “I have to say, you threw quite the party last night.”

  “Thank you, Raul. They say parties can be judged by the mess they leave in the morning. From the looks of my living room, I’d say it was a riot.” Drake skimmed the list and shoved it into his front pocket. He had more important matters to attend to at the moment. “Is Emelia Hudson here yet?”

  “No sir, I’m afraid she’s running late.” Raul pressed down the front of a Brioni coat as straight and black as his hair. Even though his eyes were a muted shade of charcoal, they held an intensity that could strike fear in the heart of any one of their packmates. “But I’ve briefed Ms. Fox on the new state of affairs. She’ll run your business aspects, as usual, and Ms. Hudson will be your personal secretary until you feel she is ready to handle other matters of business.”

  Drake checked his watch as he marched around the corner and down the long hall leading to his office. “I asked you to have her transferred here first thing this morning. It’s nearly noon.”

  Raul Bloomfield had been Drake’s Beta wolf for two hundred years. He’d never taken this long to obey an order. Figures he’d stall on the most important order Drake had ever given him: transfer Emelia Hudson to his private office staff ASAP.

  “I contacted the temp agency as you requested,” Raul said, following on Drake’s heels. “I retrieved all of Ms. Hudson’s information from the county, and I’m searching the pack’s database for more comprehensive records. I had an extra desk moved outside your door, as requested, and she should be here any minute. I’m told she’s running late due to a nasty hangover, sir.”

  Raul’s thoughts raced through Drake’s head as if they were his own. The ancient pack-speaking process was common to him—as ordinary as drinking his coffee black and his scotch Blue—but this time, Raul’s silent words turned Drake’s feet to stone.

  Why do I get the feeling she experienced more than a hangover, sir? Luminaries are reported to experience symptoms that resemble drunken stupor when they meet their fated mate.

  “Don’t even think it, Raul. I wasted two hundred prime years of my life looking for my Luminary. She’s not going to appear as Little Red Riding Hood at one of my office parties a century after I’ve given up searching for her.”

  “If you say so, sir.”

  Despite Drake’s ramblings, he knew there was something off about his reaction to Emelia. The way she’d looked in that silly costume had captured his interest first—the crimson corset hourglassed her figure and flaunted the plumpness of her breasts, making his mouth water and his hands ache to brush over her skin. She was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen, hands down, oozing sex appeal without trying. But it was the sincerity behind her piercing stare that had held Drake prisoner in the cellar. Those midnight-blue eyes had spellbound him, rendering him speechless, pinching his heart in a vise. He’d never experienced anything like it before.

  Emelia Hudson.

  Could he really have found her? His Luminary? The idea struck him as ridiculous. He was an Alpha, rightful heir to the Seattle wolf pack throne. She was human. She wasn’t a born werewolf, and to be turned would mean she wouldn’t be strong enough to have children. Or, in the case that she became his mate, Alpha heirs. In three hundred years, he’d never heard of an Alpha finding a human as his Luminary.

  Fate was a nasty bitch, with a twisted sense of humor.

  After leaving the cellar last night, Drake had retreated to his room. He’d dived into old texts about the reaction an Alpha werewolf would have upon finding his one and only Luminary—the eternal light in his life, his soul mate. He’d studied the chemical reaction that sparked between fated lovers upon first touch. Everything was spot-on to how he’d felt down in that cellar…with her.

  Still, Drake had to meet her again. Just to be certain. He could’ve mistaken off-the-charts chemistry with the Luminary reaction, couldn’t he? Simply meeting in the halls wouldn’t be enough to figure it out. He wanted more than a single touch and a few cordial words in passing. There was too much on the line to take the situation lightly. Drake needed to keep Emelia Hudson close until he knew for sure.

  As Drake reached his secretary’s desk, Trixie Fox stood and handed him a steaming mug of coffee. It was bold and out-of-the-pot hot, nearly scalding his tongue. The pain quieted Raul’s thoughts before they could continue further.

  “Good morning, Mr. Wilder,” Trixie said with a kind smile.

  “I hope the new arrangement’s all right.” Drake pointed to the second desk across from Trixie’s—the one he’d brought in especially for Emelia. The mahogany desks faced each other and flanked his door, creating an alleyway to his office. “I’m not sure if Ms. Hudson will pan out as my personal secretary, but I know how overworked you’ve been lately. I think it might be more accommodating to split the secretary position into admin and personal.”

  It wasn’t a total lie. Trixie worked her ass off for Wilder Financial, and could absolutely use another set of hands to assist with business—only those hands wouldn’t be Emelia’s. Drake wasn’t sure how long it would take to rule out Emelia as his Luminary, but he’d keep her close until he knew undeniably either way. He made a mental note to find Trixie a real assistant as soon as he ruled Emelia out.

  “It means so much knowing that you’ve noticed how hard I’ve been working.” Trixie tucked her tawny-brown hair behind her ears and smiled coyly. “I was starting to think you didn’t see me at all.”

  Under normal circumstances, Drake would’ve been flattered by Trixie’s constant attention. He couldn’t deny she was classically beautiful—taller than average with a model-thin build, generous breasts, and legs that wouldn’t quit. But there’d never been a spark between them. At least not from Drake’s side. In the five years Trixie had worked for the company, Drake had never gotten the urge to take advantage of the long nights they spent working in his office.

  Not once.

  “I trust you’ll be able to instruct Ms. Hudson on how we run things around here?”

  Trixie nodded. “I’ll have her in top form in no time.”

  As far as Drake was concerned, Emelia’s form was already top-notch. “I’m sure you will.”

  Striding toward his office, Drake shot a quick glance at the desk that would soon be Emelia’s. Flat-screen monitor. Keyboard. Pad of paper. Telephone. She already had the necessities, though she wouldn’t be using those things much. As Drake’s personal assistant, she’d refill his coffee, run errands, take orders, and handle things Trixie was too busy to handle herself.

  He couldn’t wait to see Emeli
a again.

  “Mr. Wilder?” Trixie’s voice pierced his thoughts.

  He turned and stared into questioning hazel eyes. “Yes?”

  “Pardon my saying so, but are you sure you want a temp to fill this position? I’m sure we could find a secretary from a lower department who is more qualified.”

  “I appreciate your concern, Trixie, and perhaps in a day’s time we’ll get someone from another department. For now, I want Emelia Hudson and no other.”

  With a wince, Drake entered his office and waited for the door to click shut behind him.

  “You want Emelia Hudson and no other?” Raul’s voice taunted.

  Drake stood in front of his floor-to-ceiling windows, zoned out on the misty cityscape, and scrubbed his head. Had he really just said that? “Damn, that came out wrong.”

  “No,” Raul said, placing his hand on Drake’s shoulder. “There’s a chance it came out right.”

  It’d been nothing more than surprise, Drake thought. Emelia had caught him off guard in the wine cellar last night. He hadn’t been with a woman in months. He’d been tense and on edge, tired from dealing with bundles of acquisitions in the city. He’d been all business, impersonal and cold, for so long, she’d been a welcome surprise. She’d somehow soothed him.

  She couldn’t be his Luminary, his one and only destined mate.

  God help him if she was.

  Chapter Three

  Emelia leaned away from her new desk on the top floor of Wilder Financial and stared at her bottle of Dasani as if it could somehow materialize into a bottle of Advil and take her headache away. She couldn’t remember much from last night, which was damn odd considering she’d never blacked out from drinking before.

  She did remember Drake, though, and how the feel of his lips made her knees wobble like Jell-O. Even her ex-fiancé—whom she downright refused to think about for another second—hadn’t excited her the way Drake had, and they’d had some steamy encounters over the course of their rocky relationship.

  There was something different about Drake. Something about the way her stomach flipped and her brain seized… Their connection seemed more than physical. Every time the word “kismet” popped into Emelia’s head, she dismissed it. Couldn’t let thoughts like that run wild—that’s how she got in trouble the last time.

  After the way things had ended with her fiancé, the last thing she needed was to hop into another relationship.

  Trixie Fox, the secretary who was supposed to help Emelia settle in to her new job, stood on the opposite side of the large desk, wagging her finger from one side to the other. Emelia could barely make out Trixie’s words over the pounding in her head—the sound was muffled and jumbled like the droning teacher from the Peanuts television shows.

  “Your job is to take care of the daily to-do list, whether it says to pick up Mr. Wilder’s dry cleaning, shop for stationery, or coordinate the next office party,” whaa-whaa-whaa, “make sure you have a cup of extra-hot black coffee ready to hand him the moment he arrives,” whappity-whaa-wha-wha, “answer the phone,” mwa-wha-mwa-wha-aah, “leave all messages on his desk. That’s about it.”

  Emelia tried to pay attention to every word, but she went rigid at the mention of Mr. Wilder’s name. “This is…” She craned her neck around and stared at the tiny gold plate on the door to her right. Engraved on it were two stenciled black words, and one undeniable title: Russell Wilder, CEO. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Nope, not kidding. Didn’t they tell you who you’d be working for?”

  Groaning, Emelia slammed her face into her hands, then shook her head. Blond chunks of hair dangled over the desk, tickling her arms. She wasn’t ready for this. Not today. Today’s mission was to locate Drake, and she’d planned on it taking up her entire day. She’d pushed off Mission Interrogate Wilder until tomorrow…

  She looked up, feeling more drained than she had in years. “The agency said top floor. If I didn’t have the headache from hell, I might’ve figured.”

  Trixie spun around her desk and plopped into the leather seat. As her hazel eyes skimmed over the computer screen, her fingers flew over the keyboard. “Don’t know what you did to get transferred here, but I’ve never seen a newbie move up the ranks that quickly. You’ll be able to use this on your résumé for years…if he likes you.”

  Emelia laughed into a snort. “I don’t think I’ll have to worry about that.”

  Not after the way she planned to grill him. Had she really been assigned as Mr. Wilder’s secretary? Could it have been that easy? After the longest month of her life, slaving away at whatever petty job the Wilder Financial guppies asked her to do, she was finally going to be able to meet Mr. Wilder face-to-face. She was finally going to get some solid answers.

  “I hear you moved up from the mail room,” Trixie said, wildly scribbling a note. Long, narrow fingers clutched a silver pen, showing off unnaturally square nails gel-shellacked with red, orange, and yellow shades of autumn. “I’m guessing from your headache that you had a good time at the Halloween party last night?”

  Emelia’s cheeks flushed hot as she remembered the smoldering passion behind Drake’s dark eyes. “I did, actually.”

  “Did you catch a glimpse of Mr. Wilder?”

  “No, wish I had.”

  She’d planned to seduce Mr. Wilder last night, but it was only to get him into a vulnerable position so he would have to hear her out. He hadn’t shown up at the party, which was for the better, as long as she could hunt down Drake in Mr. Wilder’s labyrinth of a building. Maybe they could find a janitor’s closet and pretend it was a wine cellar. Seeking out a relationship was seriously off Emelia’s radar, but playing Five Minutes in Heaven with Drake? Sounded like a perfect way to turn Monday into Funday.

  “Well, you’ll meet him today, for sure. As soon as he’s out of his meeting with Mr. Bloomfield, he’ll want to meet you. He always makes a point to personally meet every person on his staff.”

  Moment of truth.

  Emelia swallowed hard as her insides squirmed. What was she so nervous about? This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? To meet him and get an apology for illegally buying her bar, then refusing her the common decency of a meeting to straighten things out. Okay, so she wanted to see him suffer, just a little…but it was only to match what he’d put her through the last couple months.

  “Peeeerrrfect timing.” Trixie’s sarcasm rang clear. She leaned back, throwing her arms behind her head. “I forgot to drop off the deposit slips at the bank.” She tapped her nails on the desk. Then eyed Emelia curiously. “I need you to hold down the fort for thirty minutes or so. Can you do that?”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I mean, I’ve been here a whopping two seconds.” An idea struck, as sharp and true as a lightning bolt. She could use the time alone to dig around through some of Mr. Wilder’s paperwork. “You know what, on second thought, I’ll be fine. What do you need?”

  Trixie stood, snatched a few manila folders off her desk along with an overflowing desk basket, and plopped them in front of Emelia. “The documents in the tan folders need to be filed. The cabinet is over there.” She pointed to a tall filing monstrosity behind her desk. “The papers in the basket need to be shredded.” She slid over a waste bin with a shredder anchored over the top. “Pretty simple. Answer the phone, file, shred, got it?”

  Nodding, Emelia got to work, opening all the cabinet drawers behind Trixie’s desk to orient herself with where things needed to be. Trixie left quietly, gathering her phone, purse, water, and bank deposit bag before heading to the elevators.

  Once Emelia was alone, she grinned slyly and scanned the long, taupe hall that stretched to the opposite end of the building. While the lower floors were whitewashed and sterile, looking more like a doctor’s office than a financial building, the upper floor was warm and cozy, reminding Emelia of the insides of a posh cabin…if cabin decorators had elegant taste and more money than Oprah. The halls were empty except for a few s
mall trees that looked like mini-pines and pictures of mountain landscapes.

  It was quiet and probably wouldn’t stay that way. There was no time to lose.

  Emelia sauntered back to her desk, determined not to look like she was in too much of a hurry, and flipped through papers in the shred basket. Nothing but duplicates of receipts, board minutes, and miscellaneous memos. She took out a handful, tapped them into a neat pile, then fed them into the shredder. Low, droning noises escaped down the hall as the papers disappeared into the waste bin. Emelia leaned forward, checking near the elevators for any sign of a party crasher. Coast clear. She fingered through the manila “to file” folder and removed a random piece of paper.

  It looked like loan-approval paperwork for a newly acquired building south of Capitol Hill.

  “Hmm,” Emelia scanned the document quickly. “Looks really important. Bet he’d be pissed if someone messed with his business stuff.”

  She knew too well what happened when people screwed with other people’s livelihoods, then acted like they didn’t give a damn.

  Maybe she could give Mr. Wilder a taste of his own medicine…

  She guided the document into the shredder, relishing the mechanical murmur that followed. The crunch-munch-buzz whispered “Mr. Wilder’s downfall” into Emelia’s ears.

  With a pang of guilt that she shrugged off, Emelia ripped another document from its manila bed—“Wilder Financial Acquisitions Report for May 2012.” As the machine minced the report, Emelia plucked another “important” document from the folder. And then another. She dove headfirst into shredder heaven.

  Within minutes, the folders were thinner than before, and Emelia’s shoulders significantly lighter. She’d shredded enough documents to drive someone crazy looking for them when they came up missing. She only hoped that someone was Mr. Wilder.