Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
“Emma!” Stan’s voice was louder this time.
“We hooked up, and…well, now he’s flying me to Europe on his private jet!” My sister’s laugh did not begin to convey how actually incredible and bizarre her story was. But that was because this was a normal kind of occurrence in her life. She hooked up with a guy she met in a restaurant. Then, on a whim, went flying to Europe with him.
I was going to go to the break room and get more coffee. Maybe stir in some of that hazelnut creamer. That was my excitement.
My sister was literally the luckiest, flightiest, wildest human on Earth. She didn’t try hard at anything. It was all just handed to her on a silver platter.
Who happened to run into the Sultan of Arunai at a restaurant in MONTANA and hooked up with him?
Only Lyssa.
And all I’d done in my life was play it safe, and look where I was. In my cave with an annoying boss pestering me close to midnight.
“Emma!” Stan was back at my office door. “Hang up the phone and finish the goddamn effect. We are all waiting on you.”
I looked up and stared at my boss. I hated him. Hated my job. Hated my life. Look where playing it safe had gotten me.
Absolutely nowhere.
“You know what, Stan?” I stood up from my rolling chair, which had broken a year ago, and I couldn’t get replaced. “Go fuck yourself.”
His eyes widened because I’d never spoken to him like that before. Or anyone else, for that matter. “Oh, that’s nice. Real nice.” Stan’s stubbly face turned red.
Lyssa cheered in my ear. “That’s right, girl. You tell him. Now walk out of there.”
“I have been here for fourteen hours already, and that was after working until 1:00 a.m. last night. All I wanted to do was hear my sister’s voice while I worked on the background imagery before she left the country, and you’re over here riding my ass.”
Wow. I never even really cursed.
This felt good.
I threw open the drawer to my desk and pulled out my purse. “So you know what?” I started throwing my things scattered around my desk into my purse. After eight years, there wasn’t much, which was really sad.
“No.” There was alarm in Stan’s voice. “You can’t leave. Not before it’s done.”
Under normal circumstances, I would feel bad for him. His problem would be my problem, and I’d solve it for him, and he’d get the credit. That was how I rolled. I was the conscientious, responsible employee. The safe sister. But fuck this. I didn’t have a sultan fucking me and taking me to Europe, but I didn’t have to be fucked over by my boss and getting nowhere.
“I’m done.”
Lyssa cheered some more. “That’s right. You tell him.”
I hefted my overstuffed purse over my shoulder, grabbed my empty mug, still holding my cell phone to my ear with my other hand, and scooted past him through the door of my cave.
“Emma! At least finish this one effect!” he called as I walked away.
Finish the effect? He didn’t care that I was quitting, only that the effect wouldn’t be finished, and I was the only one to do it. Fuck him.
“I’m sorry, okay?” His voice switched to a stupid whine. “I shouldn’t have bothered you about your phone call! Come back!”
I lifted my hand with the mug and extended my middle finger above my shoulder as I walked away.
“Okay, I quit,” I said to Lyssa as I skipped the elevator and took the stairs. I sounded a little giddy. I felt it, too. “Let’s talk about Montana.”
3
JOHNNY
When Rob Wolf told me he wanted me to be an enforcer, I didn’t expect much. A job or two here and there. Rogue shifters aren’t that common. He needed me on the family ranch. Horses didn’t feed themselves. Fences didn’t fix themselves, either. A place the size of Wolf Ranch needed full time tending by me and a few others. Clint, Wes, Joe, Colton, and even Rob himself.
But I was now on my second enforcer job within a week.
This time, solo.
It seemed Clint had given me a thumbs up to Rob, and my alpha was pleased because of it.
I slowed my truck in the circle driveway and stared up at the big-ass ranch house. This place made Wolf Ranch look like a cabin on a postage stamp sized property.
Mitch Chapman’s Montana place was massive. Tens of thousands of pristine, picturesque acres. Split log fences lining the entire property for miles along the road from town. Outbuildings that all matched, like a high-maintenance woman whose shirt, shoes, and lipstick were all color coordinated.
And the house.
“Fuck me,” I muttered, turning down my radio. The catchy country song was distracting me from my study.
The place was log and river rock. Huge windows. It had wings left and right. It was that massive. It was understated, which was a little laughable. Screamed an architectural magazine cover. It also screamed money.