Cinder's Wolf: A Shifter Retelling of Cinderella (A BBW Shifter Fairy Tale Retelling Book 2) (11 page)

Opening her eyes, Cynthia regarded Lucille. She expected her to be crying. Although, she wasn’t sure why. She had never seen her cry before. For a long time, Cynthia had thought that was because Lucille didn’t have a heart. But maybe it was something else.

Maybe it was because Lucille had spent her whole life trying to be her father’s perfect socialite wife, to be anybody he would love instead of trying to be somebody who could love herself. Maybe if Lucille had been in charge of her dad’s finances before he died, there would’ve been some money left over. Maybe he wouldn’t have worked himself to death trying to save the unsaveble. Maybe Lucille would’ve been able to understand what Cynthia wanted to be. Who she was.

But she didn’t and she hadn’t. No tears fell from her eyes. Her lips didn’t even pucker. It was like she didn’t feel anything at all.

Cynthia took a deep breath and sniffed back the tears she couldn’t shed either. “I’ll be gone in an hour.”

R
ex had been
fourteen when his father took him to his first board meeting. Compared to the rustic homeyness of the farmhouse, the office space they rode up the elevator to reach had been so… clean. Sleek. Alien. A very human kind of power pulsed just under the surfaces of the space-age desks and monogrammed leather bound notebooks. Working out of it always felt like being a general waging a war from inside an enemy fort, but even after Rex had taken over the company, he hadn’t remodeled.

That morning his father had walked stiffly into the board meeting, wearing his suit like a costume as he raised his hand, and said “Good morning, gentlemen.” After a few buzz-word laden preambles, the rest of the members revealed they were planning on voting his father out. At that Father had gone even stiffer, freezing for a moment, until he sneered and used the power of his werecall infused voice to command them to change their votes.

It had worked. But it hadn’t fixed the reason why they wanted to vote him out in the first place. Father was too wild, too aggressive in his hostile takeovers of other companies, and most importantly he was unpredictable in his dealings with clients. A true wolf.

At eighteen Rex took over the company.

At nineteen he was one of Forbes’s youngest billionaires.

At twenty his father died.

The day after his father’s funeral, Rex shifted for the first time. It had happened in his bedroom on the night of a full moon, and there was nothing majestic about it. After thirty minutes of his limbs shriveling, internal organs feeling like they were silly putty in the hands of a sadistic God, and fur piercing through his skin, he found himself curled up on his bed. There were so many strange smells, strange instincts, and he was at the mercy of all of them.

He remembered thinking,
How could I have ever thought that this was power? Being controlled by an animal? Being mastered by the universe instead of mastering it?
Truthfully, he had dreaded the change the moment his mother had told them his father was dying. The moment she had revealed what exactly what death mean for their family. For her. By the time Rex had become an entire wolf, all he had wanted was to change back.

So he had.

He hadn’t shifted since.

He told Samson he had, of course. His brother was too much like his father to understand why Samson would reject his wolf. Rex even played pretend at hunting, leaving the gate open, going as far as to purchase a mold of a wolf’s foot to leave false prints. It was silly, but better than being stuck in his gangly awkward animal form. Or worse.

How wrong he had been.

This form was not awkward. It was glorious. Out of control. Dangerous. Terrible. Monstrous. But glorious. His whole body felt free to just experience the world as it was instead of trying to mold it into what it should be. Yes, some human part of Rex was horrified. But his human side had
lost.

As Rex galloped through the north end of Central Park, he crossed the stream in a single bound before slinking underneath a stone footbridge. This form was graceful and responsive, even more so than his human one. The sun had finally risen and light was coming down in shafts through the loosely-packed trees.

The woods felt a little bit like a movie-set, and Rex was very aware of the distant voices of people. The territory wars and the supposed death of the last werebeast had happened over a hundred years ago, but humans couldn’t forget something so bloody. If they saw a wolf as large as him roaming Central Park, at the very least they would call the police.

There were even rumors that the Federal Bureau of Supernatural Investigations hadn’t been disbanded, and their motto made the threat they presented clear enough. “
Mors monstris remedium.”
Death is the cure for demons.

So, his hunt would have to have a few detours. Only a minor inconvenience, really. The scent of his mate lingered on Rex’s nostrils, and it made its wolf’s heart sing a song with only one lyric.

Mine.

Rex shook his fur, expelling some of the morning dew that had dampened his pelt. The voices in the distance were beginning to get closer, and worse, another scent was threatening to dislodge his mate’s.

Pushing off from the bridge, Rex jumped into the clear, shallow creek below it. The wet coldness of the water on his paws startled his senses. Rex scrambled up onto more solid ground. Central Park’s soil felt compacted and dead underneath him. So many worms and organisms were missing. He lowered his snout and sniffed, expecting to find nothing but the stench of pesticides. Instead, his mate’s scent filled him, stronger than ever.

His ears pinned back against his head and he wanted to jump up on his hind legs and yip. When he had let go, his wolf had found her. Effortlessly.

Delirious with joy, Rex lowered his mouth and licked the ground. His far away human self recoiled at the motion, and his wolf’s happiness ended soon too. Another flavor mingled with his mate’s aroma. Cat.

Enemy.

Rex had to bury his snout completely in the dirt to keep from howling his anguish.

He had been so sure that his mate had run from him. From his wolf. From their bond. Why had he never considered the other possibility?

That she had been stolen.

There wasn’t a second to spare. Rex sprinted to follow the scent, slipping through the trees like an arrow shot perfectly straight, even though the target was far. He only breathed when his lungs protested. His paws touched more air than ground. The voices of the tourists crescendoed as they neared.

Rex swerved, almost falling into a small ravine as he slipped into the woods. He couldn’t be seen.

It wasn’t just the police some hapless tourist might call. There were rumors that the FBSI hadn’t been dissolved all those years ago, and if they discovered Rex, they wouldn’t just kill him. They’d torture him until he revealed every other member of their kind he knew still existed.

Rex shimmied on his belly into the underbrush, just as a group of women stampeded above him. Their cloying scents disturbed his trail and he couldn’t help but growl. Thankfully, they were too lost in their chatter to notice.

When they passed, Rex resumed the hunt. He knew it was dangerous, but he didn’t care if he ruined the whole species as long as she was safe. As long as he had her. His human side shrunk back from the force of the feeling, the bond, and the damage he knew it could do if left unchecked, but that only gave his wolf more control.

His mate’s scent grew stronger and stronger as he followed her trail. So did the cat’s. Eventually, the narrow path returned back to the creek, which had widened into a brook. At the end of it was a stout waterfall, and beside that waterfall was Bane Stilskin.

He sat on a park bench, dressed in a suit and slacks, legs crossed, leaning back like he hadn’t a care in the world. A smirk toyed with the corner of his mouth. Dangling from his finger was a single blue high-heeled shoe.

He twirled it once, and tilted his head, his cat’s eyes glimmering with cruel delight. “Well, fancy meeting you here.”

T
he offices for Boxes
& Broom were located on the third floor of the Loxely building. It was the only place in Brooklyn Cynthia had ever seen that actually looked like NYC did in the movies. The walls were exposed brick, the floor plan open, the bean bags numerous, and the Wi-Fi fast enough to make your head spin. The best part was the rent wasn’t even terrible.

Normally, Cynthia found the sight of the clean offices soothing. But normally she wasn’t lugging a suitcase stuffed to the gills with half her wardrobe. Normally, she wasn’t homeless.

Cynthia rolled the suitcase behind her as she walked past the other businesses that shared office space with Boxes & Broom. There was Three Bears and a Moving Truck Company, Lion Linguistics, and of course, Merrymen Security.

It was the last door that Cynthia dreaded passing the most. Robin Loxley was one of her oldest friends from prep school. Although friend might’ve been too strong a word. Cynthia winced as the wheels of her suitcase squeaked against the wooden floor.

“Cynthia, Cynthia, Cynthia.”

Her wince turned into a scowl as she glared at the wily redhead leaning against the doorframe that led to the section of the floor designated for her company. “Can I help you, Loxely?”

Loxely gestured theatrically. “It may be that I am beyond help.”

Isn’t that the truth?

“I’m sorry about the rent. I’ll sign the check today.” Cynthia slid the suitcase behind her.

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Loxely waved dismissively and slumped further against the doorframe. Considering the way his rumpled green shirt clashed with his red hair, you’d never have guessed that he was worth a cool thirty million. “I don’t collect rent until a company is profitable, public, or morally questionable. Other than my equity stake.”

“Right, so then why did you email me again about payment?

“Marian.” He wagged his finger. “You mentioned you might put a good word in for me.”

“I never promised you that.”

“It was implied.”

“You always think every friend of Marian is implying that they’ll help you in your totally hopeless attempts to date her.”

“Aren’t they though?” He raised his eyebrows and lowered his chin. “Aren’t they, my dear Cynthia?”

Cynthia debated just barreling right through him. Loxely was skinnier than she was. However, Cynthia could tell that under his video game T-shirt, he was all muscle. She decided against a full frontal attack.

She put her hands on her hips and glared harder. “I have had zero sleep, and I currently have zero fucks to give about your love life, Loxely. If you don’t want the rent then
let me pass
.”

Loxely blew air out through his lips, sending a strand of his red hair out of his eyes. “Fine.” He leaned out of the way and opened the door behind him with a flourish.

And let all the chaos in.

The staff was huddled in the center of the office around something and whispering. Cynthia swore that she even saw some money change hands. What they were watching, Cynthia couldn’t exactly see, but she did hear a muffled argument. The only employee actually working was their CFO, aka accountant, Hikari Waters, who was playing with spreadsheets at her cluttered desk, humming a melancholy Korean pop song.

“What is going on?” Cynthia said.

Her voice wasn’t loud enough to register in the din. However, as Cynthia rolled up to the gaggle of employees, they parted to let her in. She realized then what had gotten their attention. In the center of the circle, Marian, their lead engineer, and Emma, their graphic designer, were facing off. Marian, with her ripped jeans and bluntly cut bangs, was holding up her iPad, showing the company website to Emma, who was smiling brightly in full-on innocent angel mode. Her Shirley Temple curly, golden hair helped.

Marian stabbed her finger on the corner of the iPad. “I needed the logo in a square aspect ratio. This is a rectangle.”

Emma exhaled, clearly trying to remain calm. “We’ve been through this, Marian. The branding identity won’t work as a square.”

Marian rolled her eyes. “Yes, because then, God forbid, maybe our logo would look less like a pair of boobs.”

“Hello, Marian.” Cynthia stopped her rolling suitcase with a pronounced thud. “Emma. Can I help you, ladies?”

Everyone turned to look at her at once and fell silent.

Cynthia was mollified, but only slightly. “Does anyone want to tell me why we’re not working?”

“Emma and I were discussing the logo,” Marian said curtly .

Emma rolled her eyes and began twirling one of her almost infinite number of tight blonde curls around her fingertip, but she said nothing. Marian started to explain, but Cynthia interrupted her.

“Marian, we decided that we’re sticking with the logo the way it is. That’s what last Friday’s meeting was for. You said you could accommodate a rectangular logo on the top of the webpage.” Cynthia took in a deep breath, but the effect backfired, and she found herself near tears instead of calmed. The pain in her leg was back again, and she had to lean against the handle of her suitcase just to stay upright.
Lucille was right. I am running this company into the ground. I am just a spoiled little rich slut.

Cynthia looked upward into the bright florescent lights, knowing that if she didn’t, she would start to bawl.

“Cynthia?” Marian’s normally direct and monotone voice was small.

“I’m fine. I just haven’t slept,” Cynthia said. She sighed, and it ended up more like a shudder. She faced reality again.

Everyone was looking at her, of course. Not just Emma and the rest of the staff, but Hikari had taken her headphones off, swiveled her chair around, and was frowning with no small amount of concern.

“I need to see all the top-level members of the company in the conference room,” Cynthia said.

Dead silence. Cynthia wanted the noise back. Everyone, even no-social-skills Marian, was staring at her as if they were toddlers and she was their mother, but this time, she had been the one to have the tantrum.

“Now.”

Most of the rank and file dispersed. Marian, Hikari, and Emma went to the conference room, but one woman stayed behind. She was short and large, larger even than Cynthia, who considered herself squarely in the plus-size camp. The woman dressed well, not flamboyantly, but in jewel tones with strategic stripes of leather that highlighted her curves and made her look much younger than her forty-three and some years.

“Cynthia.”

“Yes, Eliza?”

Eliza was one their newer hires, but had really done a spectacular job with their clients. Cynthia had given her raises accordingly, which Eliza desperately needed with her three kids at home.

Before Cynthia could stop her, Eliza grabbed Cynthia and squeezed her into a very unprofessional hug. It felt so good she almost cried. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been hugged by someone. She barely knew Eliza, but in that moment, she didn’t care.

After a pat on the back, Eliza let her go, and looked her over carefully, like she was looking for boo-boos to fix. She nodded when she finally decided she didn’t see any. “Mom thing. You looked like you could use a hug. After all you’ve done for me, that’s the least I could do.’”

“T-thanks, Eliza” Cynthia stuttered.

“Go get em’.” Eliza pumped her first up in a muted cheer, and then returned to her workstation.

Now that the woman’s hefty warmth was gone, a cold kernel of doubt was grinding against her ribs. As Eliza walked away, Cynthia’s smile withered completely.

It wasn’t just her company she’d lose if she couldn’t save Boxes & Broom. People’s,
good
people, lives and families were at stake.