When they sat down, he said, “This looks as good as Fotelli’s. What inspired this feast?”
“You’re not going to believe what happened today.”
“What?”
“My boss called me into his office and said he has a friend who’s in a real bind and desperately needs an assistant. He said I’m qualified to do the work and, as much as he hates to lose me, it would be an amazing opportunity for me. More money. Lots of perks. What do you think?”
“I think Fotelli’s should torture you for the recipe to this sauce.”
“Thanks. I meant what do you think about the job thing?”
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
“I’ve never heard of something like this happening before.”
“Maybe the friend offered your boss an incentive.”
“An incentive for me? Sight unseen? Somebody he’s never met who’s never done actual assistant work before?”
“I’ll admit it’s unusual.”
“Yeah. What do you think?”
“You know I want you to come work with me. So you’re not going to get an unbiased opinion.”
“I’m going for the interview.”
“Okay then.”
“Just to see what it’s really all about.” Nick nodded, twirled pasta around his fork, smiled and put it in his mouth. “What?”
“I don’t understand the question.”
“You’re smiling.”
“I’m happy.”
“About my job? Or my maybe-new job?”
“No. About dinner. With you.”
She shrugged, took a sip of pinot noir and returned his smile. “Have I ever told you that your bare feet are sexy?”
He laughed. “No. Tell me what’s sexy about my bare feet.”
“Hard to say. Your toes are perfect.”
He laughed again. “You making fun of me?”
She shook her head and slanted her eyes. “Tell me something about me that’s sexy.”
Nick put down his fork and grinned. “Everything. But I’m betting that’s not the answer you’re after.”
“You’d win that bet.”
“Well, then. Let’s see. Have I mentioned your smell?”
“You have. What part of me smells the best?”
He took a deep breath, shoved back from the table, stood and walked around to where she sat. After pulling her chair back he pushed her legs apart so that he could kneel in between. He cast a lecherous look then placed kisses between her breasts and trailing down her stomach until he buried his face in her crotch and inhaled.
She laughed and pushed. “Stop it, you animal.”
He looked up. “Never.” He looked at the leggings she was wearing as if they were offensive. “Take these off.”
“What will you do for me in exchange?” she teased.
“Lick you like I’m the cat and you’re the cream.” He gave her a smile that could only be described as wolfish.
“Ooh. That sounds promising.”
“It’s more than a promise. It’s a guarantee.”
Two days after Foley returned to exchange video cards on the mountain peak cam he got what conspiracy theorists might call the ‘money shot’. He returned to the motel with takeout for dinner and sat down to analyze the feed. What he got was a billion times more astounding than the highly unlikely interspecies frolic.
Two wolves trotted out of the trees and headed straight for the lodge like they knew where they were going. Just before they reached the side door, they slowed to a walk and transformed – somehow – from wolves to men. Without missing a step.
They then disappeared into the house, but Foley recognized them as two of the regular residents.
“Holy shit,” he mumbled to himself. Just as he’d replayed the video from the river over and over, he replayed the shift. “Can’t be.”
He stopped the feed and sat back, wondering what in the hell he’d gotten himself into. He looked at his watch. It was after hours, but Bogosian had said to call his private number whenever there was something more.
At that moment he put it together. “He knows,” Foley said out loud and whistled softly. He’d bet money that Bogosian had strong suspicions and had just been using him, and Crow, to collect proof.
Bogosian answered right away. “Just a minute. I’m stepping away,” he said. After a couple of minutes he came back on the line and said, “What have you got?”
“What you’re looking for.”
There was a slight pause before Bogosian said, “And what’s that?”
“Werewolves.”
After an even longer delay, “A crude way of putting it.”
“Maybe. But accurate. Right?”
“You have video?”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re thinking that…”
“It’s worth a fortune. You know it. And I know it.”
“What do you want?”
“More than my usual fee.”
Another pause. “I want to see it.”
“After we talk price.”
Bogosian snapped. “Again! What do you want?”
“Five million dollars.”
“I’m sure you’re expecting some conditions to go along with that.”
“Of course.”
“I won’t discuss those on the phone.”
“Where do you want to meet?”
“Come to the house.” Bogosian gave him the address.
“I’ll be there within the hour.”
“With the original and only copy of the video.”
“Understood.”
Foley was expecting a grand estate. If he’d seen Bogosian’s house before he made his demand, he probably would have asked for more. Still, he wasn’t a greedy sort. Five million would mean he could retire, take Max, and go off grid. He could live with knowing he might have negotiated for more.
What he wasn’t expecting was to be greeted just inside the door by a man who searched him for a recording device.
“This way,” the man said.
He led Foley down a short hallway off the main foyer and knocked on a door that had the substantial sound of solid wood.
Bogosian opened the door himself. “Thank you, Mr. Bregman.”
The man nodded and walked away quickly as Foley stepped inside. Bogosian’s home office was dark wood, burgundy leather, and lots of animal head trophies. Some were exotic species that Foley knew for a fact were on the endangered list.
“Nice place,” he said.
“I like it,” Bogosian replied. Without further exchange, he held out his hand for the video.
“Let’s talk about conditions first.”
Bogosian dropped his hand. “Very well.” When they were both seated, Bogosian behind his desk, Foley in front, in a mirror version of the last dialogue they’d had in the office, Bogosian said, “I agree to the payment, but it comes with the strictest confidence. Just so there’s no misunderstanding about what ‘strictest confidence’ means, it’s this.
“My position is that your video feed is work product that I’ve already paid for and already own. I hired you, bought the equipment, paid all the expenses. I’m offering to meet your price as good faith that we have an ironclad arrangement. A confidential arrangement.”
“Sure.”
Bogosian shook his head. “’Sure’ doesn’t feel like the response of a man who’s entering into a serious and binding arrangement. I want to be sure that you understand that there is no coming back from violating this particular non-disclosure.”
Foley honestly didn’t know if Bogosian was the sort who might have people disappear, but it wasn’t a major concern because he had no intention of selling his video to the National Inquirer. Once he had his five million, he was on the way to being unconcerned about everything except fishing, quiet, and, most of all, no people.
“I get it.”
“Good. The other condition is that you are going to see this through until you’re released.”
/> Foley started shaking his head. “I don’t know what that means.”
“It means that this story has not yet unfolded. You’re part of it. You’ll be onboard until I say you’re not. For whatever is needed.”
“How long might that be? Outside guesstimate?”
“A year.”
“A year?”
“You have something better to do for five million dollars?”
“I was planning to take my five million dollars and be about my something better to do.”
Bogosian sighed. “I find that things go better for me when my employees feel fortunate, even privileged, to be occupying their various positions. That’s the reason behind my philosophy of upper echelon compensation. When things are pleasant, they run smoothly.”
Foley nodded because Bogosian paused and seemed to be expecting some response.
“So what will it take to buy a year of your willing participation in my project along with your permanent silence?”
Foley was completely unprepared to answer that question since he’d never considered being offered such a proposition. Still, he’d planned to work for another three to four years. “Seven million. Paid in full now. I’m free from contract or complication by the end of a year from tonight. No matter what.”
Bogosian smiled. “For a hunting guide, you’re a fair negotiator. Seven million. Two now. Five when I release you at a date no later than one year from tonight.”
Foley sighed deeply. “I agree.”
“All this is dependent on what the video shows.”
“Of course.” He handed over a sleek graphite gray thumb drive.
Arlene had cleared out her desk, accepted her severance package, and left the building with all the buoyancy of a person who had won the tristate lottery. She couldn’t believe her good luck. Had no idea why this windfall had occurred, but wasn’t going to question it. She was just going to take her retirement and go explore the joys of being a person with money and without employment.
The next morning Reese Braga arrived, excited and anxious at the same time. She’d been made an offer she couldn’t refuse by an exceptionally personable fellow who just happened to be CEO of a Fortune 500 company.
She knew Nick was disappointed, but she reassured him. “It doesn’t mean we’re not going to work together. Just look at it this way. I’m gathering more experience and bullet points for my resume so that I’ll have more to offer L&F when I come onboard.”
He growled softly as she kissed his jaw.
She was remembering that as she was organizing her desk.
“What are you smiling about?” Bogosian asked.
“Oh. Good morning. I was just thinking about something that happened earlier today with my, um, friend.”
Bogosian smiled pleasantly. “Code for personal. You’re entitled to some private thoughts, Ms. Braga.”
“You’re welcome to call me Reese if you want. Of course it’s up to you.”
“Reese it is. Get yourself situated. Make a list of anything you want or need in the way of equipment or supplies. At ten I’m going to personally take you around and introduce you. Then we’re going to have lunch and talk about your role here. Meanwhile, there’s an extensive employee breakroom with the good stuff. Or so I’m told. Fad stuff like Nespresso.”
Reese chuckled. “Yes, sir.”
“You like Nespresso?”
“I do.” She nodded her head. “But I prefer to make my coffee last half the morning rather than taking it in shot form.”
Bogosian nodded and studied her a second too long as if he was trying to decipher the key to her psyche. “Well. Plan on lunch in the conference room.”
Reese looked down the hall. “Really?”
Bogosian laughed silently. “It will be arranged. In the future, you’ll be the one to do the arranging.”
“Yes, sir.”
Bogosian’s former assistant, Arlene Nesbitt, had taken everything of a personal nature with her, but she’d left a world of information. There was no formal job description, and certainly no manual, but it was fairly easy to piece together what she did for her boss from her calendar and to-do lists. Those records, along with the list of resources and contacts, were the critical elements that answered most questions. All she had to do was add professionalism and a better wardrobe, which would have to wait until after her first check.
She had the calendar open on one of her two oversized monitors, which was a nice touch, so that she could refer to it whenever the phone rang. Since there were no instructions regarding who should and who should not be put on the calendar, she found spots for everyone using the logic that not many people would have the nerve to ask for a meeting with Bogosian if they weren’t people he’d want to see. If pressed, she’d readily admit that logic was shaky, but she’d been thrown in the deep end without swimming lessons.
At eleven a well-dressed young woman with sharp features and intelligent eyes walked to Reese’s new desk with purpose.
“I’m Joyce Rather. I’ll be relieving you while you lunch with the CEO,” she said.
It was a simple sentence, but given her expression and tone, Reese thought there might have been underlying resentment. Perhaps someone who’d thought she was in line for the top assistant job.
“Hi,” Reese said with so much cheer it was like she was trying to win the relief admin over with one word. She rose, gestured toward her chair, and, for whatever impulsive reason, decided to switch off the monitors before she stepped away. “Thanks. I’m Reese.” When Joyce Rather nodded stiffly, Reese surrendered to the fact that they were never going to be friends. “Just take messages and let them know Mr. Bogosian’s assistant will return their calls shortly.” Reese almost smiled when she felt the hackles relax and heard her wolf sigh approvingly.
As Rather blinked slowly her mouth parted slightly. She, apparently, hadn’t expected to be assigned a place on the hierarchy.
“All right,” Rather said.
As if to make the point crystal clear, Reese gathered her notebook and backup paper planner before saying, “Don’t touch anything except for the phone and this message pad.”
Joyce Rather nodded dumbly and sufficiently contrite.
As Reese walked away she reflected that the wolf inside who would have slept through her entire life without revelation, if it wasn’t for Nick, may have changed her. She doubted that she would have had the confidence, or power, to manage the subtle challenge from before.
When she arrived at the conference room, Bogosian was standing at the doorway concluding a conversation with another man. “Reese.” He smiled as she approached. “This is my friend Carl Scarborough. We’ve been friends forever. Belong to the same club. Carl,” he turned to the friend, “this is my new assistant, Reese Braga.”
Scarborough gave a slightly warmer than polite smile and held out his hand. “A pleasure.”
“Very nice to meet you, Mr. Scarborough.”
He nodded, withdrew his hand, and turned back to Bogosian. “So I’ll see you Thursday.”
“That’s the plan,” Bogosian said.
As Scarborough walked away, Bogosian gestured for Reese to enter the conference room.
Two places had been set at one end. A caterer from a nearby Relais and Chateau restaurant delivered lunch. The idea of five star take out was both amusing and amazing.
Over the next hour and a half Bogosian proved to be an exceptionally charming lunch companion. With every minute that passed she felt better about her decision to take the job, right up until she felt her wolf growing restless.
He began by asking if she needed anything else to settle in and if her predecessor had left things in good order. But by the time the salad course was being replaced with tilapia and rosemary potatoes, the conversation had turned more personal.
He seemed sincerely interested in her. He asked about everything from her family, where she’d grown up, where she’d gone to school, to what she liked to do for recreation on her days off. If not for
the stirrings of her wolf, Reese would have simply been flattered and would have seen no reason to be guarded about her answers.
By the time lunch was over, she was eager to get away. The only way to explain the feeling would be to say that Reese’s wolf was feeling anxious.
“It was nice to have this time together so that I could get to know you better,” Bogosian said.
“Yes. It was.”
“Although I would deny saying it, there’s a chance that my assistant is more important around here than I am.”
“Oh. I seriously doubt that.”
“At least from the standpoint of keeping the gears turning.”
“Sounds like I have big shoes to fill. Your former assistant must have been a marvel.”
“She was with me for a long while and I never had cause for complaint.” He leaned in slightly to whisper. “Yes. She knows where the bodies are buried.”
He chuckled, but Reese’s wolf tried to lunge through her face and take a chomp on his nose.
“So confidentiality is prized.”
“Whatever happens at work stays at work.” She smiled. “Let’s continue this away from here. My wife and I would like to have you and your boyfriend for dinner this weekend. Can you make Saturday night?”
“Um, Saturday?” Reese knew that Nick would say yes, but that he would be disappointed to not spend Saturday at the lodge. “We have plans. I’m so sorry.”
“No apology necessary. Let’s make it Sunday.”
She smiled. “Of course. Thank you.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN Big Bad Wolf
Reese had insisted on driving. Ever since Nick had hinted at insulting her behind-the-wheel skill, she’d been determined to prove to him that he was a fool for doubting her. She rolled down the driver’s side window when she pulled up to the speaker next to the iron gate controls. Instead of asking for her name, someone said, “Good evening, Ms. Braga. Please proceed.”
“Thank you,” she told the box before looking at Nick for his reaction. He shrugged. Her gaze lingered a little longer than called for by his reaction, but he looked even more scrumptious than usual in his charcoal pants, black coat, crisp white shirt, and white on black tie.
Stalk (Hotblooded Book 1) Page 12
