Big Bad Bully E-Book

Rose Renee

• Herausgeber: Midnight Romance
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

THE BIG BAD BULLY DOESN’T FALL FOR HIS PREY
 Even if she smells like nutmeg, honey and sin.
Even if her chaos and color drips into your black-and-white discipline—and leaves it bleeding.
I was raised in a pack that worshipped bloodlines and power.
Humans were beneath us—soft, fragile, fleeting things.
Fine for entertainment. Never for mating.
Especially not for me, heir to one of the most ruthless alphas in the world.
So when my new alpha chooses a human bride, I grit my teeth and obey.
I’ll plan the wedding. I’ll tolerate their ridiculous customs.
But I won’t fall for her best friend—the loud-mouthed, paint-splattered activist who thinks I’m the villain in her revolution.
She calls me arrogant. Predatory. A corporate machine in designer suits.
She’s not wrong.
And yet, she’s always in my space. In my mind. Under my skin.
She stirs instincts I’ve fought to bury—possessive, primal, ruinous ones.
She thinks I’m the enemy.
But I’m not the danger in this story.
She is.
Because if I take what I want—
If I claim her the way my wolf demands—
I’ll break every rule I was raised to uphold.
And I won’t be sorry.

Leseprobe

Big Bad Bully

Werewolves of Wall Street

Book 5

Renee Rose

Lee Savino

Copyright © 2025 Big Bad Bully by Renee Rose and Lee Savino

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

Published in the United States of America

Midnight Romance, LLC

Cover by Qamber Designs

This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book contains descriptions of many BDSM and sexual practices, but this is a work of fiction and, as such, should not be used in any way as a guide. The author and publisher will not be responsible for any loss, harm, injury, or death resulting from use of the information contained within. In other words, don’t try this at home, folks!

Contents

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Epilogue

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Other Titles by Renee Rose

Also by Lee Savino

About Renee Rose

About Lee Savino

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To our real life bestie, Aubrey Cara. Thank you for all the time and care you’ve spent helping us make the Bad Boy Alpha books the best they can be. Thank you for all the ridiculous memes and lifting us up when we need a boost. Thank you for being you.

Content warning: The hero of this book suffered childhood abuse. While it’s not depicted in the book, it is mentioned several times. We’re including this note to provide context for Billy’s behavior. Please safeguard your own mental health.

ChapterOne

Aubrey

I hate billionaires.

No, I shouldn’t say that. My best friend is going to be one soon–either through inheritance or marriage. Probably both.

That’s a weirdness I still haven’t adjusted to.

But Madi aside, the entitled stench is everywhere on Wall Street. Especially here, in Sentience Labs, the AI company that has blatantly stolen the creative works of artists, musicians, and authors from around the world.

Which is why I’m going to do something about it. Tonight.

This is my third week camped out on the twenty-eighth floor of the Sentience building. Normally, my murals depict images of social justice and a call for change. Resistance. Freedom. I’m Brooklyn’s Diego Rivera. My Occupy Wall Street mural outside La Résistance, the Bohemian cafe where I work, has been photographed more than any other street art in the city.

I’m the last person anyone would expect to sell out to a corporation like Sentience. Especially one that disenfranchises artists everywhere.

But I threw my name in the hat with a cheesy flower landscape for a good reason.

An exceptional one.

The song “Karma Chameleon” pops up on the 80’s dance playlist piping through my earbuds, and I smirk to myself.

That’s right, Sentience. Karma is a fucking bitch.

“You staying late again?” The security guy stops behind my ladder to observe. He’s taken an unfortunate interest in me and my work. Maybe because he likes my art. Or maybe because he can sense I’m different from the soulless sharks that circle these waters. I’m life and color to the rest of the building’s hollow monotone.

Under ordinary circumstances, I might flirt. He’s six feet tall and gorgeous, with medium brown skin and a sexy Jamaican accent. Totally my type. But I’m trying to be forgettable. Especially tonight.

Move along, buddy. These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.

“Yeah. Just a few final touches,” I lie, flicking my wrist in quick, deft brushstrokes along one poppy. The truth is, I finished the mural two hours ago, and now I’m biding my time. I purposely don’t turn around or give him my attention, so he’ll move on.

He stays a few minutes longer then finally strolls away. I wait until I hear the elevator ding and move away before I turn off my music and pop an earbud out to listen.

All quiet.

To be sure, I take a trip to the bathroom to wash up, checking the lights under every door.

It’s eight at night. These execs usually leave by six, but I need to be sure.

I palm the keycard Jamie, our informant, gave me. She got fired two months ago after printing a copy of an email sent by an exec telling her that her concerns about the legitimacy of the data they were mining were unfounded.

Turns out, the creepers here are so Big Brother, they tracked that one “send to print,” and she had security guards at her office removing her–minus the printed email–before the end of the day. She showed up at the legal aid clinic, and Jan–my activist lawyer friend and the wife of the owner of La Résistance–took her case.

Since I was already plotting with Jan and her wife, Caroline, about how to bring Sentience down, she connected me with Jamie.

Now I just need to get my hands on those same kinds of emails and, hopefully, find the cache of pirated artists’ works, so Jan can file a lawsuit against them. Or maybe, we’ll bring the information to the New York Times and expose the hell out of these fuckers.

I use the stairs of the fire escape to get down to the tenth floor, where much of the data mining takes place. Jamie’s key card still works on that door, as she told me it would. My heart pounds as I slip through the door.

The lights are off, and it’s dark. Jamie told me there are no cameras on this floor because they don’t want any recordings of what they actually do here. I follow the map I memorized to get to Jamie’s old office. They’ve hired someone new to take her place, but Jamie had a spare key from when she lost her keys and then found them again. A very happy accident in this case.

I slide the key into the lock and turn it. I may be bold when it comes to civil protests, sit-ins, and the exercise of my free speech rights, but this is breaking the law. Tonight, I’m turning the corner into breaking and entering and outright stealing corporate documents. Jan would not approve, but if I don’t do this, Sentience will continue to steal from me and all the other artists, authors, and creatives they are putting out of business. Jamie tried to do something about it and was fired.

I can take this risk.

I slip inside the office without turning on a light. From the front pocket of my paint-splattered overalls, I pull the external drive I brought.

The computer is still on–it comes out of sleep mode when I move the mouse–so I quickly scroll and follow the instructions I memorized on how to clone the entire hard drive. Once I get that copying, I also download the entire mailbox, not that I think there will be anything of use in there, but you never know.

I hope this gives us something to go on!

It says the cloning will take another thirty minutes, so I slip back out of the office and head upstairs to my mural in case the security guy comes around again. I use the time to clean up my area, rinse my brushes, and fold up the drop cloth for tomorrow.

My phone rings, and I check the screen. “Madi,” I answer the call. She’s probably just leaving work now. Her job as head of Torrent Cosmetics fully occupies her now. More than the Moon Co job, even, because at least Brick had boundaries. He didn’t work weekends or too late at night.

“Aubrey!”

“Hey you.”

“Hi! How are you? I’m sorry, it feels like forever since we’ve hung out.”

The familiar ache in my chest at losing my BFF to her fiance throbs. “I know. I’m good. Can we do something together? Just you and I?”

“Yes. I’d love that. How about…” I picture my bestie flipping open the calendar app on her phone and scrolling through it. “How about next Thursday evening?”

“Does that mean a week from this Thursday?” I clarify.

“Yes. I’m sorry, I’m slammed this week, and Brick and I are going to the Adirondacks over the weekend.”

It doesn’t go unnoticed that she never invites me there, other than for their engagement party.

“Yeah, okay. Next Thursday it is,” I say hollowly. I really need to get a life. A boyfriend. Someone to fill the gaping hole left when Madi moved out.

“What are you up to right now?”

“I’m actually painting a mural at the Sentient building this week.”

“What?” At least Madi is appropriately shocked. But it guts me that she doesn’t even know why I’m here or what I’m up to. She doesn’t know anything that’s going on in my life right now.

“There’s a good reason. I’ll tell you all about it when we get together.”

“Wait, no! Tell me now. I have to know.”

“I would, but I’m here working now, so…I can’t really talk.”

“Oh, my God! What is this about? Now I’m dying.”

“Good. Then I can be sure you won’t cancel our date.”

“Aubrey, I’m sorry about last time.”

“No, no. It’s all good. We’ll chat next week. Ooh–you know what? There’s a good eighties cover band playing at All Night.”

Eighties music is my favorite. I’m obsessed with the whole decade as a result of my parents’ taste in music. In college, Madi and I had a Go-Go’s cover band, and we played at All Night.

“Perfect. Let’s meet there.”

I perk up. It will be like old times. “Yay! I can’t wait to catch up.”

“Okay. Me neither. Love you!”

That wrenches a smile from my lips. “Love you, too. Bye.”

I check the timer on my phone. Twenty-six minutes.

The download should almost be complete now.

I slip back into the stairwell and jog down to the tenth floor again. The drive is copied. I quickly disconnect it and tuck it back in the front pocket of my overalls then head back to the staircase.

I’m two flights down when a door opens.

Fuck. It’s the security guard. “Hey,” he says sharply. Then he recognizes me. “Oh, it’s you.” His brow furrows. “What are you doing in the stairwell?”

Sweat makes my palms clammy. I resist the urge to touch the pocket of my overalls to make sure the drive is out of sight. “Oh, I’m just leaving now. I’m done for the night!” I chirp.

“But why are you in here? This is the fire escape.”

“No, I know. I actually have a bit of claustrophobia, so I prefer taking the stairs to the elevator. Especially at night when there’d be no one around to hear me scream.”

He blinks at me.

Fuck. Am I a horrible liar?

“I would hear you scream.”

Was that a threat? Does he want to hear me scream? Is this guy a serial killer? I spin out of control as my heart chokes my throat.

He relaxes into a grin, and my knees nearly buckle with relief.

“But I get it. I just like to take the stairs to stay in shape.”

“Right! That too.” I sound out of breath. A little crazy. “Well, I’d better get going! It’s late.” I rush past him, taking the stairs at a jog.

For a few moments, I feel him watch me, but I don’t look up. I just keep on running all the way down eight flights of stairs until I get to the ground floor.

I throw the door open to the lobby and suck in a deep breath.

The security guard at the front desk gives me a startled look. “Where’d you come from? Is something on fire?”

I force a laugh. “No fire. I just ran down the stairs for, um, exercise. I’ll see you tomorrow!” I call out as I sail past him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was close.

I suck in a deep breath of cold spring air as I truck to the subway.

I’m halfway down the block when I start to giggle. And then my giggle turns into a full-bore laugh. I’m laughing hysterically when I get on my train to Brooklyn.

I did it–my first corporate espionage job is complete.

Hopefully, the information I got was worth the risk.

ChapterTwo

Billy

I stare at an Instagram page on my phone. A siren in the shape of a human smirks back at me in front of a giant mural. I’ve seen the mural firsthand. It’s decent. The artist is not decent. She’s a menace to society.

For the thousandth time, I study her silky brown skin. The high cheekbones and full, pillowy lips. Black hair that falls in wild gold and scarlet-tinged braids down her back. Her hair is more colorful than the last time I saw her at Brick and Madi’s engagement party.

The time she fed me more of her insolence and flipped me off.

The desire to take her to task for that sass makes my dick hard, also for the thousandth time. I’d love to bend her over the counter of the Bohemian cafe where she works and listen to what sounds she makes when I’m smacking her ass.

The fact that I have an errant desire to touch a human is insane. What makes it even more disgusting is the fact that I haven’t touched a female–wolf or human–since said engagement party.

“Mr. White?” Annabeth, my executive assistant, interrupts through the intercom. She’s a redheaded she-wolf and extremely efficient, which is why I employ her.

She usually knows better than to disturb me.

“What is it?” I snap, hurriedly closing the phone.

“Your–uh…Mr. White the Second is here to see you.”

The second.

As in, my dad.

What the fuck does he want?

I stand from the desk, instinctual respect too beaten into me to deny him that courtesy. Not that he deserves it. “Send him in.”

My dad strides through the door.

Just the sight of him brings on a self-loathing rage. This is the asshole I was born to. I carry his odious DNA in my blood.

William, Bill, White II is a tall wolf–six foot two, and despite the greying at his temples, he still looks every inch the alpha of his pack. He reeks authority. Cruelty. Entitlement.

I never quite reached six feet despite the synthetic growth hormone he fed me during my childhood. But I did grow strong. Not because of all the beatings and tests he put me and my wolf through but despite them. My sister helped me survive him, and I chose to thrive. To escape.

Now, I stay behind my desk rather than come out to greet him. It gives me a position of power in the wall-to-wall windowed executive office.

That’s right, asshole–the son you tossed away is a Wall Street billionaire now. Second in command of the largest and most powerful pack in New York. A far cry from your backwoods Maine pack now.

I’ve worked at Moon Co since we helped Brick start it while still at Yale, but my dad has never been to Manhattan to see me here.

Until now. What does he want?

He takes in the office and my power position with a sneer.

“What are you doing here?” I skip the niceties.

“Your mother wanted me to say hello.”

My mother. The meek rabbit he mated to solidify his position as alpha. Her dad was the previous alpha. Another cruel leader, as I recall.

It certainly wasn’t a fated match. Their union was arranged. A strategic union for both my dad and my grandfather. My mother had absolutely no say in the arrangement.

Medieval much?

“What are you doing in New York?”

“I had some business to attend to.”

Something about the vagueness of his comment sets off alarms in my head. What business could he have here? Something that had to be done in person.

I draw in his scent through my nostrils, knowing full well it will trigger a trauma response.

It does. My body goes into a kind of shock, ready to fight or be beaten.

I have years of practice in working around my triggers, though. I examine his scent for traces of others in it. I catch the stench of New York–car exhaust and hotel lobby. Humans out on the street.

Nothing else.

Fine, I’ll bite. “What business?” I demand.

My dad casts a cruel smirk at me. “You gave up the right to inquire about my business when you abandoned your pack.”

“I found a better one.” My voice and my gaze are dead. “I don’t recall you ever missing me.”

My dad lifts his upper lip in a sneer. “I had no use for a traitor. But that could change.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. He must be joking.

“What? Now that I have money, I’m worth something to you?” I saunter out from behind the desk and then lean casually against it, folding one of my legs across the other. “Or is it Brick’s power you want to use?”

“Brick is not as powerful as you think,” my dad sniffs. “That human mate of his will be his destruction. You should jump ship before it’s too late.”

My dad despises humans. He has made a powerful place for himself as the leader of hate-mongering focused on humans. I was raised completely apart from humans. I never mixed with them, never interacted until Brick, Nickel, Jake, and I had to live amongst them in boarding school and later at Yale.

My father taught me at a young age to fight for my survival, so that’s what I did. I latched onto the bluest blooded wolves on campus and made myself indispensable. During our first year at Yale, Brick’s mother poisoned his dad, and the Adalwulfs ripped his wealth from him. He needed a right-hand man to help him exact revenge and fight to regain everything the Adalwulfs stole. I had enough vengeance within me to power all the electricity in Manhattan.

I now know we all trauma-bonded. Nickel–a royal wolf from England–had also been escaping family trauma and political machinations. Jake was a quiet loner who’d never had a pack to rely on until Brick brought him into the fold. The four of us became a found family, united around a single cause–to rebuild the Blackthroat pack’s wealth and status, so Brick could maintain leadership.

“The pack has accepted his luna,” I say stiffly.

Granted, I wasn’t exactly in Madi’s court, and I fought Brick on his decision to mate a human, but I’m not about to tell my dad that. I would never let him see any chink of weakness in my pack or my alpha.

My dad watches me closely. “I heard it was a bloodbath. He had to kill hundreds of his pack members to maintain dominance. His pack will organize the next coup better.”

His words send a chill up my spine. If I were in wolf form, my hackles would raise, but I’m careful to show no emotional response. I don’t like that he’s given so much thought to our pack’s defenses. I don’t like his cruel attention shining on the Blackthroat pack in any form. My dad is dangerous and unpredictable. I’ve spent a lifetime learning to control myself and my surroundings to prevent the destruction he wages.

“I expect I’ll have a chance to assess things for myself at the wedding,” he continues.

What? “You’re not invited.”

“Not yet.” My father fiddles with his cufflink. “But I expect you can put a word in with your alpha to change that. I am a blood relation to his second, after all.”

Figures my father would spend the first half of a conversation tearing my pack down, and the second half angling for an invite to what he sees as the most prestigious event in our pack’s history. I shouldn’t be surprised at the hypocrisy. In my father’s eyes, the Blackthroat are the wealthy bluebloods of the shifter world, and he wants proximity to all their wealth and power.

I raise a brow, acting cool. “I’m surprised you want to be there, since he’s marrying a human. I know what you think of them.” He drilled that hatred into me as a pup.

For a moment, I’m back in Maine, standing with the pack on our land. I can hear my father shouting, “It’s time to hunt the human.” I remember how my sister held me tight, as if trying to protect me from the wolves around us and the violence they would wreak.

My fangs grow sharp in my mouth. The thought of allowing him near my luna makes my blood run cold.

But I keep my expression controlled. Never show weakness.

“It’s the wedding of the century,” my father is saying. “Surely you can swing an extra invite⁠—”

Fuck this. I’ve got to shut him down. “Don’t hold your breath.” I match him, sneer for sneer. “I can tell you now–there will not be another coup. Madison Evans isn’t just a human mate. She’s a true luna. She claims and holds a power that the pack recognizes. No amount of hate-mongering can override nature’s law.”

It’s true. Even I have conceded her position and power at my alpha’s side.

I’ve accepted my punishment for trying to keep them apart. A punishment that now involves me playing fucking ambassador to the humans.

This reminds me–I should visit Cafe Girl to discuss those duties.

Bill White II lets out a derisive scoff. “My own son is now a human lover.”

His words knot and twist in my gut. One part of me snaps and roars at the implied weakness he projects at me. The other part hates any of it that might be true.

I refuse to think about Cafe Girl or her nutmeg and honey scent. The way her hair would look wrapped around my cock. The noises she might make if I fucked her hard from behind.

“Your own son wants nothing to do with you.” Again, my voice and gaze are dead. I show no emotion and project strength, as he taught me to do. “Tell my mother I’d prefer a visit from her rather than you as her messenger.”

My father’s nostrils flare with anger. I don’t know what he thought he’d accomplish by visiting me, but he didn’t get whatever it was he wanted.

Good.

“You’re a disappointment.” Neither his words nor the bitterness in my father’s tone are anything new.

“I’m everything you are not,” I say. It’s taken me time to realize that’s a fact worth celebrating. I’ve had to be ruthless and work my ass off, but Brick Blackthroat, the most powerful alpha in the country, finds me indispensable. I have a place beside the king. My father is nothing to me now.

“That’s for sure,” my father snorts as he turns on his heel and walks out.

I pick up the stapler on my desk and crush it into a tight ball, then hurl it at the closed door. It embeds itself in the wood and remains there, suspended.

ChapterThree

Aubrey

I work all Saturday at La Résistance, which has been my home away from home since I was sixteen. Working there isn’t work at all. It’s hanging out in a hip coffee shop with the people I love.

Right now, it’s evening, and I lean on the counter, nursing a mug of chai. The place is quiet, and I’m lost in my thoughts to a dreamy soundtrack. The song is a Bossa Nova cover of “Take on Me,” and it reminds me of my 80’s night date with Madi next week. I can’t wait.

I miss her. This is the sort of night she’d come by the cafe, and we’d chat between customers. Now I’m lucky if I see her once a week.

I don’t want to resent her new relationship, but it’s changed everything. I should be happy for her–and I am. She’s in love, and I’ve never seen her so aglow. It’s amazing. But I feel totally shut out of her life now. At least at the beginning of the relationship, she would share all the gory details. Now I get nothing.

“Hey, chica,” my boss Caroline beckons me back to the office, where her wife Jan is waiting. I greet them both. Caroline is a petite, white spitfire–barely over five feet–and the fiercest and most loving woman I’ve ever met. Her wife, Jan is tall, black, and slender with a close-cropped afro.

These two are like second and third moms to me. They co-own the cafe. Jan is a Legal Aid lawyer, and Caroline runs this place full-time. They’ve staged many a revolution within these walls over the last thirty years.

“We’re meeting with Jamie, right?” I ask. Jamie is the whistle-blower from Sentience.

“Yes, she’s running late,” Jan says.

I have a flicker of unease at that–Jamie isn’t the sort to be late to a meeting. She’s a starched shirt sort of person. But it’s probably nothing. I’m just a little nervous–the drive I procured from Sentience is burning a hole in my satchel.

“First, I’ve got something for you,” Caroline is rummaging around in the coat closet. “Well, you and Madi.”

My heart contracts a little at my best friend’s name. The pain surprises me. It’s not like Madi has died. She’s just busy. Too busy for me.

“Ta da!” Caroline whirls around, holding up a gorgeous turquoise-colored jacket.

“Are you serious?” I move closer to study the jacket. It’s made of leather, and cropped, but in an older style with wide lapels. “This is amazing. It looks just like–”

“Janet Jackson circa Rhythm Nation?” Caroline makes the jacket boogie while singing part of the chorus.

“Yes!” She hands it to me, and I hold it up, admiring it. It’s in pretty good shape but obviously has been worn before. “Is this…vintage?”

Caroline and Jan both shudder. “I hate that word.” Caroline points to me. “One day your clothes will be considered vintage, and you’ll cringe too. This is second hand,” she emphasizes. “For you! For the next time you and Madi play at All Night.”

I take the jacket and hold it up to me. “Oh my God, I’m obsessed.”

“Rhythm Nation came out in 1989,” Jan points out, ever attentive to detail. “So culturally you’re pushing into the 90s.”

“It still counts.” Caroline waves a hand. “And it’s Janet Jackson.”

“Miss Jackson if you’re nasty,” Jan sings, and for a moment, I can imagine her out of her lawyer suit and in a leather lieutenant hat. She once showed up to karaoke dressed like Grace Jones on the cover of Nightclubbing, so I know she probably has a closet full of club outfits herself.

“I also have these.” Caroline produces a pair of white go-go boots. “If you and Madi want to add a little Nancy Sinatra to your set.”

“Oh wow,” I laugh. “Why not? Can I borrow these?”

“Keep them,” Caroline says at the same time Jan says, “They’re yours.”

“Are you sure?” I ask. “You’re not going to want them back to wear? You know, just for a night on the town?” I waggle my brows at Caroline, who grins.

Jan snorts. “Those days are over.”

“Well, anytime you want them back for karaoke or something, say the word.” I gather up the amazing jacket and go-go boots, imagining the outfits I could wear on stage. I’ll show them to Madi on Thursday.

Jamie turns up, and the mood turns sober. She looks more haggard than when I first met her, with dark circles under her eyes. Her clothes are rumpled, too. Whistleblowing is stressful, and on top of that, she hasn’t found a new job. Even if Sentience hasn’t retaliated further, she must be lying awake at night wondering what will happen next.

“Here’s the hard drive.” I produce the computer drive from my satchel and put it in the center of the round work table. This back office is where Jan works weekends and evenings, and this table has also been the planning ground for at least a hundred social protests, starting long before I picked up a marker and created my first protest sign.

“What is this?” Jan asks.

Jamie picks it up. “This is a copy of my work computer’s hard drive. From this, I can produce all the evidence you need.”

Jan looks between me and Jamie. “But how did you get it?”

I shrug. “I might have stopped by her old office while I was painting a mural for Sentience.”

Jan’s eyes widen. “You know I can’t use anything obtained illegally as evidence in a trial, right?”

“Then we can send it over to the New York Times,” I point out.

“But you can’t use it in a lawsuit?” Jamie asks.

Jan shakes her head. “Any bit of info you provide can help us subpoena the company's executives, but we can’t use this as evidence. Not unless you find a way to legally be in possession of this information. But maybe you have a copy of something you’ll find on here.” She flicks her brows at Jamie.

“Got it.” Jamie nods. She sends me a grateful look. “Thank you so much for getting this. You risked a lot.”

“I hope it yields something.” I sure as hell don’t want to take the risk again, but I will if I have to. It takes courage to fight against giants.

I catch the sound of someone ringing the bell at the cash register, and I jump up. “I’ll get it.” I hustle out to the cafe and then immediately slow my roll when I see who it is.

This is not a man I will hustle for.

Ever.

“Are you lost?” I repeat the question I asked the first time this entitled alpha-hole came in here. The time he stole the photo of Madi and me right off the bulletin board behind the counter and used it to get Madi fired.

Irritation–a habitual expression for this jackal–flicks over William White the third’s face.

He looks down his nose at me. He’s not quite as tall as his best friend, Brick, but still close to six feet. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in a billionaire’s suit. He’s the type of man women cream their panties over, but his rank personality spoils the look.

Instead of going behind the counter to serve him, I stroll around to the front. His business isn’t welcome here.

As I get close, he turns to face me, his expression screwed up like I smell bad.

“What do you want?” I demand since he still hasn’t answered my first question.

A sour look mars his otherwise beautiful face. “We need to talk.”

Color me surprised. I can’t imagine what he thinks we need to talk about. Brick and Madi are happily engaged. He doesn’t need to offer me half a million dollars to get her to see him like he did the last time he stepped in La Résistance.

“Do we?” I keep my voice cool.

There’s something about his large, imposing form and the force of power that emanates from him that has me wondering what it would be like to be underneath him. Would he be rough? Cold? Would he want his date on top doing all the work?

Or is he the kind of guy who just pays for blowjobs to keep it completely unemotional?

I’m curious about what his type is. When he picks a woman–and I’m sure he could pick any woman in New York–does he go for the vapid model type? A long-legged blonde with zero brain cells and a shopping habit? Or a blue-blooded Harvard type–smart and horse-faced with a pedigree that goes back farther than his?

“You and I are…” He trails off, and I cock my head.

I can’t wait to hear what comes next. I can hardly believe he would start any sentence with “you and I.”

“Responsible for things. For this wedding. You’re the Maid of Honor, and I’m the Best Man.”

My brow furrows. Of all the things I thought he might say, this wasn’t one of them.

He waves an impatient hand. He has broad wrists. I don’t know why I find them sexy.

“I don’t know what they are. I haven’t done this before.”

“And you think I have?”

“Well, you’re–” He cuts off whatever it was he was going to say.

“A woman?” I prompt, trying to follow his line of thinking. “Human?”

His brows rise like he’s shocked by my second word choice.

“Someone in possession of a beating heart? Someone who actually cares about her friends?”

He relaxes. “Right. That.” He glances at the bulletin board with the photos on it, like it might hold some clue to real friendship.

“You still have my photo.”

I expect him to be dismissive, but he nods. “I’ll bring it to you.”

“You said that last time.”

His jaw clenches. “Listen–can I buy you a cup of coffee? Or dinner or something? So we can talk?”

This guy keeps shocking me. “You want to buy me coffee or dinner or something?” WTF? Is he out of his mind? “No. We aren’t friends. We’re not going to be friends. I don’t know why Brick even asked you to be his best man when you’re the guy who broke them apart in the first place.”

That sour look returns to his face. “It’s my…punishment.” He mumbles the last word.

Laughter rockets out of my mouth. “Your punishment?”

He looks dead serious, though. Like Brick is actually punishing him by making him… OMG, I think he is serious!

It’s torture for him to have to do the cheesy wedding stuff. To be a decent best man and stand up for the groom.

A slow grin spreads across my face. “Oh my God, this is hilarious!”

Irritation crowds his expression. He frowns at me.

“I’m in.” I’m delighted. If Brick wants to punish him with forced wedding festivity, I will gladly join up and heap on the punishment. Even better if part of his punishment is making nice with me. I’m going to eat this up with a spoon!

He arches a brow. “You’re in? What do you mean you’re in?”

I smile glibly. “I’m happy to punish you, Suit. In fact, it might become my new favorite pastime.”

Billy isn’t nearly as amused as I am. In fact, his expression turns downright stormy. It’s a look I could love.

“Yes, let’s start with dinner,” I say brightly. “There’s a great sushi place around the corner.”

His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t protest.

I head to the back room to let Caroline know and say goodbye to Jan and Jamie, pick up my jacket and satchel, and reemerge.

Billy snatches my jacket from my hands with his signature irritation, and for a moment, I think he’s going to throw it on the floor or something, but he opens it, and holds it out for me.

I stare at my opened coat, dumbfounded. I’m twenty-three years old. I grew up in Jersey and live in Brooklyn. I’ve dated musicians and artists. Social justice warriors. Nice guys with big hearts. But I’ve never once had a guy hold my jacket for me.

The feminist in me wants to demand to know whether he thinks I’m incapable of putting on my own coat, but that would be silly.

Clearly, no man holds a coat for that reason. Just like they don’t hold doors open because we’re too weak to pull a handle. It’s a courtesy. Good manners. Chivalry.

And I don’t hate it.

Especially from a guy who looks like he’d rather suck a lemon than show deference to anyone. I rather like seeing the manners bred into him through fancy prep schools and a Yale education. Almost like something he’s compelled to do rather than wants to do. Like this wedding stuff.

So I accept the gesture, sticking my arms into the jacket and letting him lift and drop it onto my shoulders.

He inhales deeply and then holds his breath.

What the hell? He’s probably only smelled richly-perfumed women in his privileged world.

I twist to look up at him. “Do I smell bad?”

He rubs his nose and gives a quick dismissive shake of his head. “You smell like nutmeg,” he mutters. He puts a hand on my lower back and propels me toward the door.

Nutmeg?

“And honey.”

“So…not bad?” I stop in the open doorway to look up at him again. We’re close–our bodies colliding as he stretches a long arm out to hold the door open for me.

It must be some bizarre biological reaction to his size and sheer power because I’m suddenly turned on. My nipples get stiff, and heat travels south between my legs.

He gives me a formidable scowl. I’ll bet looks like that make the people who work under him run for cover.

I don’t move from my position, wedged in the doorway with him, his arm extending beyond my shoulders to hold the glass door ajar. My lips stretch into a slow smile–my response to his unhappy expression.

Making him scowl is my new favorite pastime.

* * *

Billy

Nutmeg and honey. Cafe Girl’s scent is no less potent now than the first time I met her. The way it hits me in the chest and travels south to my groin is both a painful and ecstatic experience.

I want to sink my teeth into her skin and–

No, that’s not right.

I definitely do not want to mark her. Is that what I was imagining?

Fuck no. There’s no way I’d mark a human. Especially not a waste-of-oxygen-nobody like this female. Why would I even picture that?

That’s…so wrong.

Everything about her is wrong. Her feisty attitude, for one. She’s never met anyone she wouldn’t challenge. I doubt she bends a knee for anyone, even if they’re more powerful than her. She’s reckless and willing to put herself in danger for what she believes in. In my dog-eat-dog world, that can be suicide.

It also turns me on. Makes me want to savage her. To shove her against this door frame and wrap my fingers around that long, slender neck. Kiss her with bruising force before I tongue-fuck her mouth.

I want to teach her to drop to her knees for me. To learn to please me.

Fuuuuuuck. The image of her gazing up at me in submission with my cock between those pillowy lips nearly makes me jizz in my trousers.

No.

Erase, erase, erase.

Fuck. I can’t get the image out of my head.

To my utter shock, she reaches for the lapels of my suit jacket and smooths them. “This is going to be fun.” She gives me a bright, disingenuous smile.

Something twists in my gut. Misgiving about the meaning of that smile coiled with something more sinister.

Something I can’t even fathom.

The desire to win a real smile from her pouty mouth. The desire to have her hands on me for other reasons.

I want to spank her ass for creating such a riot within me.

Internally, I’m snapping at her to move her ass out of the doorway, but the only words that choke out of my throat are, “Is it?”

Her smile grows wider. The silver nose ring she wears glints. It would sear my skin if I touched it. “So fun. Let’s go, Suit.”

She finally releases her invisible hold on me by moving through the doorway. I suck in a deep breath of not-her to try to regain some of my brain cells. She sashays ahead of me, strutting in her white patent leather Doc Martens like they’re a pair of six-inch heels. I stare at her ass as she walks.

Spankable.

Very spankable.

Fucking gorgeous. I can’t wait to see it bared.

No, wait. That’s not happening. I’m not going to fuck this human. She doesn’t deserve my attention. She isn’t worthy of my time.

Plus, it would be messy. I’d want to do horrible things to her, and she’d cry to Madi, who would talk to Brick. I’m already in the doghouse with him.

I want to go back to being his most trusted advisor and friend. I seriously miscalculated when I tried to get rid of Madi. It’s a failure that still keeps me up at night.

I hate failures.

Aubrey leads me to a sushi place around the corner. I look around doubtfully. The place is clean but tiny and low-budget.

“You’ve eaten here before?” I ask doubtfully.

Shifters generally don’t get food poisoning, but the idea of her getting sick on raw fish puts me on edge.

She rolls her eyes. “What? Do you think good sushi has to cost a hundred bucks a roll? This is good food.”

I shrug. “Fine.”

I need to just grit my teeth and get through this meeting. Find out what’s required of me for the wedding and be done with it. Coming here to meet with her in person was a mistake.

And yet, even as I have the thought, I’m certain I’ll be making the mistake again.

We order at the window and take a number to our table. I sit down and openly study the human.

She quirks a “what?” eyebrow to show me I’m being too obvious.

“So tell me.” I spread my hands. “What do I need to know about this wedding thing.”

“Well. You’re in charge of the groom’s shower and the bachelor party.”

I frown. “Groom’s shower?” I’ve heard of bachelor parties, but a groom’s shower doesn’t ring any bells. Granted, I don’t run in human circles, so it could be something new.

She nods. “Yes. You have to host a brunch with mimosas and invite all of your male relatives and hers to bring gifts and play games.”

My upper lip lifts in a snarl. “What?”

“What?” There’s something overly innocent in the way she’s looking at me.

“You’re fucking with me.”

She flashes a smile that goes straight to my dick. Her lips have a purple-mauve gloss on them that makes me wonder what shade her nipples are. What color her nether lips turn when flushed with blood and arousal.

“Yes, Suit. I am. It’s way too easy.”

My cock is unbelievably hard. I spread my legs to make room for my erection. I don’t know why I seem to like her fucking with me. I’m glad we’re sitting down, so she can’t see the tent in my pants.

“So no groom shower?”

Her laugh is low and throaty. A husky sound that brings to mind a fresh image of her on her knees. This time she’s naked. Hands tied behind her back, so those big breasts are lifted and spread for me. “No groom shower. But definitely a bachelor party.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Is Brick the strip club type?”

Now I’m picturing Aubrey swinging topless from a pole. That image makes my dick happy, but my wolf gets pissed at the idea of a room full of men seeing her tits. A snarl of jealousy tangles up around my throat.

I will not make it through this dinner. I force a shrug. “No. Not really. Especially not since Madi. He wouldn’t look at anyone else.”

Aubrey relaxes. I’m not sure why she seems surprised by that news. But then, she doesn’t understand that Brick is a mated wolf. She’s not part of our world.

“Well, maybe we should think about a coed party. I know Brick is sort of jealous, so he probably wouldn’t want me taking her to a Magic Mike show, right?”

“A coed party?” I can’t keep the skepticism out of my voice. All of this sounds abominable.

“A joint bachelor/bachelorette party. You might have heard it called a Jack-and-Jill party. Often a destination event–like we all go to Vegas together.”

“Done,” I say. “How’s this for a deal–you arrange everything; I foot the bill.”

I’m used to throwing money at problems. It’s the advantage of being a billionaire–I hire out any task I don’t want to do. But stupid me. I forgot how much this female hates money. I made this mistake with her before when I was trying to save Brick from moon madness. Offering money only incenses her.

Her cinnamon-colored eyes flash. “I don’t think so, Suit. This is your punishment. That means you have to play.”

Something about her words excites me. Oh, yeah. I know which words. Punishment. Play.

How would she respond to punishment? Fuck, I’d love to bend her over and warm her ass until her pussy is dripping.

Except…I think she’s turned on by the idea of punishing me.

And somehow, I don’t mind that, either. She could strut around in a latex catsuit and point her crop in the center of my chest. Command me to lick her pussy until she can’t take any more pleasure.

Would I grovel for her? Never in a million years. But I’d eat that pussy.

Yeah. I’d definitely lick her clean.

I tug at my tie to loosen it. I’m way too hot around the collar. “Fine. You want to play with me? Let’s play.”

Her pupils dilate, and her scent thickens. Yep. She’s definitely turned on, too.

Damn. That thought sends my brain on a race around the moon and back.

Okay, the bratty female wants to spar with me. I’m in.

She backpedals a little. “I should check with Madi first to find out what she wants. That’s what really matters. I won’t see her for another week, though, and it’s hard to get her on the phone these days.” There’s a note of bitterness in her voice.

Even more disturbing is the tinge of sadness to her scent.

Understanding hits me hard. Just like I’ve lost Brick, she’s losing her best friend. Or perhaps she’s already lost her. It makes sense. Not only are Brick and Madi inseparable now, but Madi can’t talk to her human friend about what we are. She can’t bring her around or invite her into our world.

My wolf doesn’t like this scent of defeat on the human.