Cinder's Wolf: A Shifter Retelling of Cinderella (A BBW Shifter Fairy Tale Retelling Book 2) (14 page)

“
T
hat’s sweet
—”

“If you’re worried about owing me, I’d offer my advice on your company, but I wouldn’t invest in it. No stakes. Same goes for the rest.” Rex adjusted his weight on the weak rotating chair, so that his strength wouldn’t break it, even as he reclined, looking as lazy as a lion. “If you disagree, you can always just tell me to go to de — hell..”

“And how do I know you’ll listen this time?” Her position of both hands on her hips was meant to look imposing, he supposed, but it only succeeded in pushing her ample breasts together. His hard-on pulsed in his pants, as she fiddled yet again with that shirt of hers.

He was tempted to tell her the next time she touched her clothing, he’d do her the favor of ripping it off. Instead, he tipped his chair back further. “Because I don’t lie.”

“So I can get it from you in writing that you aren’t going to hunt me down and make out with me against my will?” She gritted her teeth as he balanced further and further back. His little princess was worried for him.

“That kiss was unintentional.” The chair squeaked.

“Can you please stop doing that? You’re going to fall over and hit your head.”

“My head is very durable,” Rex said, although he still sat up. He wondered if she realized she had just vocalized genuine concern for him. “Your company, on the other hand…”
Cynthia tapped her foot, staring behind him at the window her employees were on the other side of, even though she couldn’t see them through the blinds. Before he had stormed the conference room, he had heard the employees’ chatter. None of it was good. What, exactly, the cause of her business problems were wasn’t completely clear, but Rex was certainly eager enough to find out.

“I can help you, Cynthia. I want to help.”

She flinched, pulling out of her thoughts and back toward him, where she belonged. The glaring wasn’t so great however.

“If you so much as touch my company, I will kick you out in a heartbeat,” she hissed. Her soft, round features weren’t very good at looking angry. She seemed more like a pup than wolf. “I’m not going to jeopardize my business for your boner. Got it?”

He nodded solemnly. “I can have lawyers draw up papers if you want.”

“Ugh, no lawyers.” She sighed and fell back into the chair, one of her elbows resting on the table. “For whatever reason, you want me, and for an even more confusing reason, I want you too.” She was gazing at the ceiling again. “And God knows I could use some help.”

Your human god doesn’t have the answers, Princess. But I do.

Giving up on receiving an explanation from the flickering fluorescents above, she again focused on him. “You promise you won’t try to take over and control everything?”

“I won’t,” he said. He scooted his chair further in. It would be better for them both if she didn’t see exactly how big said “boner” was. Her obstinacy was too sexy. It was a rare strength.

Women often play acted as if they had little interest in his money. But none of them had ever actually been angered by it. It was as if he offered to pay for the check and instead of just paying herself, she lit the whole bill on fire.

No, she didn’t like him for his money.

She liked him for his wolf.

Even if she didn’t know about the wolf yet.

Rex wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that, except for relief that she liked him at all beyond the mating lust.

“And…” Cynthia heaved a few more breaths, adorably flustered.

“I think that’s all for now.” Rex said. He closed his eyes and tried to think of something to calm his raging erection. Bane Stilskin’s face, smirking and twirling her shoe did the trick. His member went as soft and small as a human man’s.

When he opened his eyes, he stood up and brushed his pants. There was no mess on them, but he wanted to check to make sure the evidence of his need for her was gone. Afterward, he began to walk toward the exit.

“Where are you going?” his mate asked in a small voice.

“If I stay here with you any longer, I will do naughty things to you.” Back to her, Rex couldn’t resist a smirk. “That’s a promise.”

“Rex!”

His smirk dulled. He might be leaving her, but his wolf felt stronger than ever, his matemark pulsing on his leg with the strength of their bond. He couldn’t let her see how much he needed this to work, and if he stayed, he wasn’t sure he could keep that weakness or his wolf in check.

In his hand, the doorknob felt like a cheap plastic toy. He turned it, careful not to break it. “A car will arrive to pick you up at five.”

“Wait.” Her footfalls were loud and fast behind him, though there was barely any distance to cover. “What?”

“I thought we’d discuss strategy over dinner.” He stopped, but he didn’t turn around. Even a small glimpse of her would undo him again.

Her hand brushed against his shoulder, tugging at his too-small suit jacket.

There was no resisting his mate’s touch, and Rex turned to meet her. Now it was his chance to be backed up against the door, with her having a wicked gleam in her eye.

He liked the role reversal. Too much.

“Did you think to ask me for dinner instead of just assuming I’d go?” Cynthia kept her chin down even as she looked up at him coquettishly. The little minx actually batted her eyelashes at him.

“Would you like to go to dinner?” He groaned.

But before he could gather her up in his arms and push her toward the desk for the fucking she so richly deserved, she surprised him by rising up to her tiptoes and pressing her mouth against his. It wasn’t just a kiss either. Her hand moved toward his pants, gripping his now half-masted cock and making it spring up to full energy.

“Fine. But I’m paying.”

Her tongue danced into his mouth, teasing the edge of his teeth. He lunged forward to bring her hips against his, flick off her panties, and take her, but just as he did, the door began to fall way behind him.

Cynthia had grabbed the knob while he wasn’t looking and pushed him out the door.

He growled as the door closed in his face and clicked as the lock turned. If Rex had been human, he might have landed on his ass, but as it was, all he did was blink.

He jiggled the door, using only half his strength, which was enough to make it impressively rattle. He didn’t want to tear it off though. It might alert the small crowd behind that he was much more the wolf of wall street than he was the prince of it. Also an act of aggression like that kind of property destruction would herald the beginning of the end of his self-control.

On the windows next to him, the blinds rolled up in a split second, revealing his mate, hands on hips, smirking as if she had just invented public humiliation. Rex schooled his expression and stopped rattling the door. Letting her see how much she riled him would only be admitting defeat.

“See you at five,” she mouthed through the glass.
He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head with bland innocence. “Five o’clock.” He gestured with one finger to the door leading to the stairway. “Be outside.”

I
t was
a point of pride at Boxes & Broom that the entire first page of search results on Pinterest when you typed in “Organized Office” were actually pictures of Cynthia’s desk.

White-coated metal, with minimalist shelving, the desk was really only a display case for Cynthia’s pride and joy—her to-do board. Rainbows of paper arced artfully across the cork surface, segmented by category and color.

By the end of the day, Cynthia had only made a small dent in the red column for urgent tasks. After Rex had left, she’d reassembled the team for a brainstorming session to help figure out a strategy to keep Boxes & Broom afloat, but no one had been able to think of anything that wouldn’t involve compromising their core values. She was too distracted, and in the end, she had spent the rest of the day playing catch up on emails, as had the rest of the team.

Her phone vibrated with an alarm, spinning itself in a small circle on her desk.

Four o’clock.

Cynthia swiped over to her takeout app, plugging in an order for her favorite sushi place to deliver. Rex said he was going to meet her down stairs at five, and she had a feeling that if she wanted to be able to pay for dinner, she’d have to bring it herself or risk being taken to some fancy restaurant.

As she was finishing up her order, she noticed she still had a text from Bel about her best friend’s new boyfriend. There was always something to straighten in the chaos Bel lived in, and dealing with someone else’s problems would be a welcome return to normalcy… and a break from her own.

Bel: You don’t even know the half of it…

Cynthia: You’re telling me. Jesus. I’ve had the craziest two days. But tell me about yours first.

Bel: It must be contagious. Samson, my boyfriend, is having some family issues. His youngest brother used to be a part of some sort of motorcycle gang, and now that he isn’t answering his phone, Samson’s worried he’s been sucked back in.

Cynthia: Yikes! I’m so sorry. Let me know if there is anything I can do, okay?

Bel: Fly down to hang out with me in Crystal Creek, so I don’t have to deal with my grumpy boyfriend all by myself?

Thoughtfully, Cynthia stroked the screen, wishing that Bel were here. She contemplated pressing the small phone icon and actually calling her. But she didn’t think she’d be able to stop from crying if she heard Bel voice, and Cynthia had done enough bawling in her office for one day.

Bel: I’ve even got book news to share…

Cynthia: Please tell me they’re picking up Mates of Darkness for another series. Naomi has to get back with Veren.

Bel: Nope. But I’m publishing more anyway.

Cynthia: Bel Booksmore! I’m not emotionally steady enough right now to handle this excitement. Wait, you’re not self-publishing, are you? I thought you said self-pubbing was for “hacks, whack jobs, and wanna-bes.”

Bel: Samson changed my mind.

Cynthia: How?

Bel: He convinced me that the ability to take your dream into your own two hands and make it a reality is a gift I shouldn’t squander.

Cynthia: He sounds like a very hot fortune cookie… or a self-help author.

Bel: Grumpiness aside, I’m glad I have him, honestly. You know me. Sometimes, I get trapped inside the echo chamber of my own interior worlds.

Cynthia: No seriously, good for you, Bel.

Bel: And, to be honest, he wasn’t the only one who inspired me.

Cynthia: ?

Bel: I was kind of inspired by you, too.

Cynthia leaned back into her chair, her neck aching as she stared up at the endless rainbows of tasks. All of them needed to be done. But maybe none of them would stem the bleeding. She reached up and grabbed one of the purple post-its from the last row. Purple was supposed to be for big-picture to-dos, but when Cynthia turned over the note, she found it was blank. How symbolic.

Cynthia: I’m not exactly a business goddess lately, but tell me, how did you channel me?

Bel: Well, Samson’s brother is going to invest in the books, helping me fund editing, cover design, and the rest. But he made me draw up a business plan before he invested. I know how good you are at organizing stuff like that, so I may have taken a peek at Boxes & Broom’s plan you had me copy edit for inspiration. It was very useful.

A hot lump burned in the bottom of Cynthia’s throat. Her fist crumpled the blank post-it. Slowly, she unclenched her fingers. The post-it note was now shaped like a crinkled flower and slowly expanded with every passing second.

All her plans, rules, and flow-charts, what had they gotten her in the end?

Her phone shimmied with another text.

Bel: Anyway, how are you?

Cynthia tossed the post-it in the trash… or tried. It hit the rim and bounced to the floor. She let it stay where it was.

Cynthia: Not great. Atm, Boxes & Broom needs some help.

Bel: Oh no. Anything I can do?

Cynthia: No. There is someone who can help, but it’s complicated.

Bel: Oh?

Cynthia: We may be romantically involved.

Bel: Romantically involved??? Cynthia Cinders??? You do not do romantically involved.

Cynthia: I know it’s bad when USA Today Best-Selling author Isabella Booksmore abuses punctuation like that.
Bel: I’m just surprised. But I will say this… Sometimes help comes from unexpected places.

Cynthia: I think fortune-cookie-dom may be infectious.

Bel: You’re probably right! I’ve got to skedaddle now. Samson is having a freak-out because, apparently, Luther is finally calling. But we will talk more later. Okay?

Cynthia: Okay.

Not getting up from her chair, Cynthia scooted over to the post-it and placed it fully in the trash. At the same time, Marian knocked on the side wall of Cynthia’s cubicle.
Impressive
. Usually Marian just started the conversation. Knocking was a step up.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” Marian said, her posture as stiff as her words.

Cynthia’s not-so-great office chair ‘skreed’ as she swiveled it toward Marian. “We had said the logo was a closed subject.”

“I know.” Marian nodded before trying to push her bushy bangs out of her eyes. It was a hopeless task, as whoever her hairdresser was always cut them just long enough that they managed to block her view.
Cynthia sighed. “We just don’t have time for this kind of craziness, Marian. I need everybody focused. You saw the numbers before we were interrupted. Heck, you have one of the biggest percentage stakes in this company out of anyone except for me.”

“The logo is bad. It does not effectively represent the company. The rectangular version is better, but not by a lot.” Marian frowned.

“Marian.”

“But the logo isn’t the real problem. We both know that.” Taking a few more steps into the office, she pointed up at the post-it note board. “You need a big giant red one that says ‘Make a decision about how to save the company.’”

“Thanks, Marian. I’ll get on that.”

Marian nodded once, and in paces that Cynthia would’ve sworn were almost robotically identical in length, walked back out of her cubicle. Right before she got to the edge, she paused. “But if saving the company means you have to do things you’d rather not with Rex, I—”

“That is not what’s happening.” Cynthia was surprised by the intensity of her own voice.

“Good.” Marian nodded again, even shorter and sharper than the last time. “Well, in that case, I recommend you bang him and suck out all the business tips you can. Maybe he can give a good outside perspective.”

“Marian!”

As Marian trotted off, Cynthia debated tracking her down and having yet another conversation about how social niceties were the lubricant of their corporate culture, but she decided it wasn’t worth it. Marian would just make a joke about lube, and she was right.

Not about the lube part. But Rex did know how to run a company. He hadn’t become a billionaire by accident, and she would have to be an idiot not take advantage of his wisdom. Also, Marian was the only other one of their team who worked the weekends as well, and if she was giving Cynthia her blessing for a night out, then the only reason not to go would’ve been her own misgivings.

To her surprise, she didn’t have any. Not logical ones anyway. There were still the dual worries in the pit of her stomach.

1) That Rex was too good to be true and would leave her once he got to see how big of mess her life really was.

2) The other, more primal unease that made her skin hot and breath short. Something was off about the billionaire. But whatever it was, she kind of… liked it?

Cynthia’s phone buzzed on her desk, and she picked it up absentmindedly, excited for another one of Bel’s witty texts. Or maybe even another picture of the lumberjack boyfriend.

It wasn’t Bel.

Cynthia felt her stomach drop in a dangerously pleasant sort of way as she read the text.

Unknown Number: Look for the Black Audi. Be there. If you still want to pay, bring food. Otherwise, I’ll be hunting us down dinner.

She tapped back to her home screen and checked the time. It was half past four.

Cynthia
: Sorry, who is this?

That done, Cynthia smirked and grabbed her purse, which hung from the hook with the
purse
label on it, underneath her mail sorter, and put her phone in it. Shutting down her computer, she did her final sweep of the desk area to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. She even flicked a dust bunny into the trash. But all the while, she was imagining what Rex’s response would be.

Would he say something annoyingly sexy like ‘don’t you think you’re cute, princess’? Or angry like ‘you know very well who I am’ or angry sexy like ‘keep messing with me and I’ll spank you’? Cynthia bit the inside of her cheek. That damn man didn’t even have to say anything to get to her.

As she left the room, she pulled out her phone and checked it again.

He hadn’t responded. It was now 4:52.

With one hand, Cynthia turned off the lights. Then she headed out of the Boxes & Broom office to the reception area for the building as a whole. A paper bag filled with tonight’s meal rested on the counter and she picked it up by the thin handles, having already paid and tipped through the app.

4:57

Still no response. With a few more swipes, she added Rex to her contacts under ‘
We’re Really Doing This, Aren’t We?’
The label was much better than just a mysterious sequence of numbers. With her shoulder, she pushed open the door leading the stairwell and walked down to the street.

She managed to keep her itching fingers from sending off another text until she got outside. The weather was unseasonably cool for late March and coupled with the honking of cabs and spluttering of cars driven by people foolish or rich enough to own an automobile in Manhattan, leaving the sanctuary of her office made her head throb.

So much chaos.

5:02

Her knight-in-shining Audi was nowhere to be seen.

Cynthia: Rex?

His reply was immediate.

Rex: Glad to see you’ve stopped pretending you don’t know me.

Cynthia rolled her eyes. He hadn’t been away from his phone. He had been deliberately not answering until she gave in.

Cynthia: I’m beginning to think you’ve forgotten where I work.

Rex: How could I forget? It’s on your business cards.

Rex: Along with your phone number.

Cynthia almost hurled her phone onto the sidewalk. Her business cards. Of course. That must’ve been how he had found her. He probably had stolen them from her purse while she was sleeping. Although how he had gotten up to do that, and not noticed when she left was a mystery.

Cynthia: Did you steal one of my business cards from my purse?

Rex: They’re free for anyone to take at reception, Princess.

A black Audi purred around the corner. It shone as if it were new.

Rex: I believe there’s a car waiting for you.

The car stopped and a man got out. Cynthia knew the moment she saw his foot protrude from the other side that it wasn’t Rex. His shoes were too dull, and as he opened the door for her, Cynthia noted his head was as bald as a cue ball.

“Ms. Cinders,” the man said as he opened the door. He actually bowed his head. It could’ve been a gesture of deference. Or he could’ve been hiding his face so that Cynthia couldn’t report him to the police after she was inevitably kidnapped by her billionaire stalker, Rex. She wasn’t sure where that sudden burst of fear had come from, but she knew deep down that it wasn’t entirely unfounded.

Cynthia: I thought you were coming to pick me up, Rex.

As much as she enjoyed Rex’s forceful personality and the signs that he might be something other than chiseled perfection in a tuxedo, there was also no denying the things that attracted her to him also made her wary.

Cynthia’s lips prickled, swollen and heavy, and she wet them. This all felt so familiar. As the mark on her ankle twinged in the exact same place the strange boy in the woods had touched her when he put her flip-flop back on, she had to consider the extremely unlikely.