Nick’s jaw dropped even more. “Heir? Not only do you have me mated to a family rival, but now you’ve got my theoretical wife knocked up? Jeez, Marcus. Did you trade your Juris Doctorate for a degree in matchmaking?”
“Think about it, Nicky. The clock is running down. If you don’t satisfy your father’s contract with the pack, EJ Hart will declare himself Alpha, regardless of the blood challenge your great-grandfather won. Why not settle both issues with one calculated chess move?”
Nicolas inhaled, holding his breath for a moment before letting it out in an irritated rush. “Something tells me you already have someone in mind.”
“As a matter fact, I do.” Marcus grinned and opened his file, handing Nicolas the same detail sheet he stared at earlier. “Her name is Kayla York. She’s a very distant relative of the Harts.” He smirked. “Makes my War of the Roses analogy kind of cool, don’t you think?”
Nicky looked at him, confused. “Why?”
“York versus Lancaster? Rival families? Weren’t you paying attention? The white rose of York and the red rose of Lancaster, the two houses forever blended in the new Tudor rose.”
“Dude, you seriously need to get laid.” Nicky chuckled, but then spared a glance for the file still on his lawyer’s lap. “If this girl is EJ’s cousin, then how come I don’t know her?”
Marcus smirked. “When I said she was distant relative, I meant seriously distant. As in needing an ancestry.com DNA analysis to decipher the trace lineage. Do you honestly think I’d hook you up with someone who might harbor clan ties? Interestingly enough, my sources tell me there’s a possibility Kayla also has ancient blood ties to your family as well, but there’s enough of an old-but-direct line to the Hart lineage to satisfy my plan. Plus, I’ve got a few incentives up my sleeve to sweeten the deal.”
Nick frowned. “I’m not sure I like what you’re implying by incentives, but suppose, I don’t have a choice.”
Marcus eyed the frustrated young man. “I think I have an idea that might kill two birds with one stone.”
“What do you mean two birds?” Nick asked.
He considered Nick. “It’s a long shot, and not something Red Oak has done in centuries, but still.”
“Spit it out, for cripes sake!’
“You could restore the original roles of the Alpha and Omega and share pack responsibilities with EJ Hart. Though, with your history, it doesn’t seem likely.”
Nicolas burst out laughing. “My history? I’m not the one who put the kibosh on the original set up. That was courtesy of EJ’s dickheaded great-grandfather.”
“I meant the Stanton-Hart history, smartass.” Marcus smirked. “Not you in particular.”
Nick grinned at the old man. “Even so, what Red Oak elder would allow something of that magnitude after all these years?”
“First off, it wouldn’t be an abdication.” Marcus shrugged. “Second, revisiting old traditions is not unheard of, but like I said, the inner bond that naturally coexists between an Alpha and Omega has been dormant far too long for you and EJ to arbitrarily jump back on the bandwagon. Then again, if it were possible, a triad union would solve your problems, at least as far as the Harts are concerned—and you did say you and EJ could be friends. Still, it would require a major catalyst, and that I don’t foresee.”
Nick shook his head. “Forget it. I was never one for being co-captaining anything, let alone bedmates, if you know what I mean.” He held out his hand for the detail sheet. “What did you say this girl’s name was again?”
“Kayla York.”
With an exhale, Nick glanced at in her picture once more. This time his wolf did more than sit up and take notice. This time it paced with the possibilities.
Chapter Three
“What’s the matter with you, Mikki? You haven’t been yourself all week,” Carmela asked, closing the register drawer.
Mikki looked up from the box she unpacked. “It’s nothing, Mel. Just the landlord being a dick again. I got a letter from his office saying the rent is going up.”
“Again?” Carmela turned, disbelieving. “That’s twice in one year. There must be a law or some consumer protection thing against that kind of ass-wipe maneuver. Don’t you have a lease?”
Mikki nodded. “Yes, but clearly there’s something in the fine print I missed. They want to meet to discuss terms.”
“Terms?” Carmela raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like code for you do me and I’ll do you.”
Laughing, Mikki tossed a crumpled ball of packing tape at her. “Yeah right. Like that’s ever going to happen. The old guy who owns this firetrap would have to swallow Viagra by the handful, first.”
“Ew!” Her friend snorted. “Now I’ll never get that image out of my head.”
Mikki smirked and went back to unpacking. “Still, I should meet with his lawyer, regardless. I love the community here, and I’d hate to have to move the shop.” She gestured toward the register. “The letter is under the paper weight if you want to read it.”
Carmela unfolded the note, giving it a thorough scan. “Um, Miks. You left out the part where it says the rent is going up because Old Viagra Dude sold the building.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Girl, c’mon. A new landlord means new rules, and most likely a new lease,” he tried again.
With an exhale, Mikki straightened and put the box cutter on the counter. “Be a pal, Mel. Put that blade away before someone gets hurt.” She motioned to the box cutter, conveniently ignoring her friend’s gaze.
“Mikki! Two words. Urban renewal! Aren’t you the least bit worried they’ll raise the rent so high we’ll have no choice but to move? And I mean move! As in pick up, pack up and haul butt to the ass end of God knows where.”
Carmela lifted a frustrated hand. “An old building like this is an architect’s wet dream. The lower west side is trendy and cool, and that means big rent, and not for the likes of us or anyone else from this neighborhood. Hell, we’ll be lucky not to be gentrified right out into the street.”
Mikki reached for her friend’s hand. “Calm down, Mel. The building is borderline historic. Maybe we can do something with that.” She nodded, half to convince herself and half to convince her panicked friend. “It’ll be okay. I know it.”
“How?” Carmela blinked wet eyes. “I need this job, Mikki…this place. You don’t pay me all that much, but you also don’t care I made a nest for myself in the back storage room. I won’t have anywhere to go if we lose the shop. I’ll be homeless.”
Mikki gave her a soft, close-lipped smile. “We’ll be fine, Carmela. Call it intuition. Besides, you go where I go, so don’t worry. We’re Mikki and Mel. A BFF package deal. If I have a home, you have a home.”
“Sure.” Carmela sniffed. “We can always share adjoining cardboard boxes from the high-end appliances the yuppies install when they push us out.”
Mikki laughed, rolling her eyes. “Okay, negative Nancy. This situation calls for something completely satisfying. Since we’re a little low on hot hunky men these days, sugar will have to suffice.”
“Mikki—”
She shook her head. “I’m serious. Grab us a dozen donuts and a couple of coffees, and I promise I’ll call the new landlord.” She eyed her friend, letting her smile spread. “And I mean real donuts, Mel. Sugar, butter, flour. With real cream inside. None of that vegan crap from the food Nazi on the corner.”
“Hey!”
“I’m serious, Mel.” Mikki handed her twenty dollars from the register. “Mama needs a sugar rush.”
Carmela hesitated by the door. “You’re right, Mikki. Not about hating on vegan food, but about everything else.” She flashed a soft smile. “No reason to panic. Yet.”
“We’ll be okay, babes.” Mikki nodded. “You and me. We’ve known each other forever, and together we’ll deal with whatever comes. The new landlord can make us move, but he can’t put us out of business.” She smiled. “Go, will ya? My mouth is watering.”
Mikki
watched the door close behind her friend, and then picked up the letter, its words burning in her brain. “Not without a fight, anyway.”
Morning broke, gray and wet. The snow had stopped sometime overnight, but the sparkling winter wonderland covering the city was now a dirty, soot-stained slush.
Nicolas sipped his coffee, looking out at the mess from his penthouse window. “Pure as New York snow.” He smirked at the eighties pop tune reference.
With a sigh he turned from the window, letting his eyes scan his unembellished apartment. Minimalist. That was how his sister described his place whenever she visited. Only it wasn’t a compliment. She claimed his apartment lacked warmth. That it needed a woman’s touch, or some such bullshit.
Regardless of her sisterly opinion, the high-rise overlooking the brackish water of New York harbor suited his needs. Private enough for home. Centrally located for business.
At least his sister was subtle. Unlike Marcus. The lawyer talked about the merits of his rival family plan all through dinner. Blah, blah, blah, even as the limo dropped him off in front of his building.
Nicolas put his coffee cup on the table and picked up the detail sheet Marcus stuffed into his hand before he got out of the car the night before.
Nick’s fingers traced Kayla’s photo, but this time he looked at the information Marcus included.
Kayla York. Twenty-seven years old. Owner, Magical Finds bookshop in the West Village. He smirked to himself. More like Marcus’s magical find.
What the hell was the old man thinking? Admiring the woman’s curvy bookworm exterior was one thing, but otherwise what could they possibly have in common? And to suggest he resurrect the alpha and omega bit with EJ Hart?
Nick shook his head. EJ was all right, but the idea of crossing swords with him in the bedroom over a chick? Nope and nope. Even if there was such a thing as an alpha-omega bond, it was long gone. In that respect, Marcus couldn’t be more correct.
He dropped the sheet of paper on the end table and picked up his coffee, Marcus’s voice already arguing in his head.
What do you care what you have in common? You need a mate, pronto, and this girl ticks all the boxes.
Exhaling, Nick’s jaw tightened. Marcus wasn’t wrong about one thing. Time was up. Glancing at the clock, his gaze moved toward his bedroom. Ten thirty. He could hop a cab and be at the downtown bookshop in no time. No harm in window shopping, right?
That’s even if she’s there.
Do you want her to be there?
Shut up.
Okay then, what?
He exhaled. Quarreling with himself got him nowhere. Still, what could he say if he happened to run into her? “Hey, Kayla…you don’t know me, but your long lost cousin wants to take everything I have, so I need to marry you and knock you up to stop that from happening.”
Yeah, no.
Nick frowned. Bookworm or not, the woman would have him escorted from the premises, courtesy of the NYPD, before her eyes could flash gold. Either that or she’d give him a set of parallel slash marks across his cheek for being an asshole.
He smirked to himself. He wouldn’t blame her either. That’s exactly how he felt. An unmitigated ass for believing his father’s last will and testament need not apply.
Dragging a hand through his hair, Nick shook his head. What if he offered Kayla a deal? Maybe she’d see it from a humanitarian point of view. Take one for the team for the greater good of their shared clan. Despite EJ, cousin or not, she had to know the Hart line produced more than its fair share of douchebags over the years.
Perhaps EJ’s attempt to worm his way back to being Alpha would out-douchebag him in her eyes.
Maybe.
The idea was lame even in his head, let alone voiced. Still, regardless of Kayla’s demure, madam librarian appearance, perhaps she was the mercenary type and open to bribery. He shook his head again. Not a chance. Not with Marcus and his usual blood hound routine.
His phone buzzed.
Jillian.
Talk about the mercenary type. He let the call go to voicemail. That one would jump at the chance to slip a nuptial noose around his neck, but Jillian came with strings attached. Plus, she had no idea about his dual nature.
Not that he had anything to hide, but she made it very clear on too many occasions she was not a fan of anything four-legged and furry. Money or not, it was easy to assume that same disgust would extend to him and his wolf side.
Jillian was pushy and impatient, and known for her big mouth. Truth be told, the only time he didn’t mind her mouth was when his dick was stuffed between her lips. Jill might fake orgasm when it suited, but the girl had talent otherwise.
He’d have Marcus draw up papers with her name, just in case. He’d be damned before losing everything over a technicality in his father’s will.
An ironclad prenup would take care of any putative problems with Jillian, and a large enough allowance and a guaranteed spot on the society page would keep her happy and quiet for a little while.
Still, keeping his true self from his mate was not how he envisioned spending the rest of his life. Again, no one to blame but himself.
Nick glanced at Kayla’s picture once more. Her eyes and the curve of her face captivated him. The lawyer’s short dossier didn’t say what kind of shifter blood she had, but he knew wolf when he saw it. He felt it in his bones. Why else would his inner animal react? Now, if she had a brain to match her luscious body it might be win-win.
He put the picture down and reached for his cellphone to call Marcus, but then hesitated.
Damn.
He didn’t know this girl from a hole in the wall. What Marcus proposed made sense on paper, but the thought of claiming a woman as his mate, having her wear his mark simply to save his inheritance was too much to swallow. Especially with his lawyer dangling incentives. That fact smacked too much like coercion with a steaming side dish of guilt.
Jillian wasn’t his first choice, but at least she’d go into this with her eyes open. Plus, better the devil you know than the devil you don’t, right?
Chapter Four
“C’mon, cutie! Swim to Mama.” Mikki leaned over the railing of the Central Park Zoo’s Polar Circle exhibit.
She clapped her hands once more before giving up with a sigh. The penguins seemed more interested in chasing each other than saying hello. Figured. Nothing was going her way today.
Carmela came back with the coffee and donuts just as she hung up with the new landlord. He was forcing them out. No argument. No ifs, ands or buts. After that, no amount of sugar was going to help.
Not that she spoke with the dickhead landlord himself. No. Some flunky from his management company delivered the bad news. Mikki exhaled. They had thirty days to vacate or get a lawyer and fight. Yeah, like she had the money for that.
The thought of lobbying some cigar-stale public advocate’s office for help left her choked and claustrophobic. She needed to get out to breathe and think, and that meant Central Park. Mel didn’t even argue. Simply opened the bookshop door with a look that said, I know.
Watching the penguins play, Mikki’s breath puffed in a white cloud as she exhaled another sigh.
“Nice try,” a deep, masculine voice chuckled from the railing, “but I think kissy noises only work on penguins if you’ve got a fish in your hand.”
She jerked her gaze from the icy exhibit, but her reply froze on her lips before she could say a word.
It figured.
With the way her day was going, the fates threw Captain America into her path just for shits and giggles. Another let down in the making. Well, who was she to disappoint?
The dude was well over six feet tall, and even through his fitted ski coat he looked sculpted and strong. With thick dark hair and deep blue eyes, he looked like Superman’s twin brother, but it was the curve of his full mouth that caught her attention.
She straightened, wiping her gloved palms on her jeans for no reason. “Well, you can’t fault a girl for tryin
g.”
Nodding a polite dismissal, she turned to walk away, but he pushed himself from the railing and touched her arm.
“Forgive me,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I usually have the zoo to myself this time of year. I guess I’m surprised to find someone as game as me in this kind of weather.”
He smiled and the effect made her throat go dry, but she snapped herself back, blinking to unscramble her brain. Good-looking or not, this guy could be a criminal or a weirdo. New York is the city that never sleeps because the sickos and the perverts never do.
Except this guy didn’t look like a pervert.
He looked perfect.
“I know what you mean,” she replied, finally. “The zoo is hardcore in winter. Only for real diehards.” She flinched inwardly the moment the words left her mouth.
Hardcore?
That’s the adjective you chose to describe the zoo.
Ugh. Shoot me now.
One of the snow monkeys laughed in the distance and Captain America chuckled. “Sounds like the residents agree.” He held out his hand. “I’m Nick, by the way. Charter member of the Hardcore Zoo Lovers Club.”
His full mouth and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled nearly mesmerized her. Mikki’s lips parted, but she had no voice. She took his hand, ignoring how the words hardcore and lover suddenly took on a completely different context.
Ever thought about kissing a stranger?
Yep. Right now, in fact.
She coughed, ignoring her own inner dialogue. “I’m Mikki,” she replied, hoping not to trip over her tongue.
She gave him a close-lipped smile. With her luck she’d have popcorn stuck in her teeth. Men this good-looking didn’t just happen. Not to her at least.
Torn Between Two Alphas: Howls Romance Page 2
