The Werewolf Prince and I (21 page)

What had she done?

“Misty Wall?”

She whirled around to find a tall woman with long black hair and a stick-thin figure sheathed in a red dress looking at her in contempt.

Misty smiled uncertainly. “Hello, I’m---”

The other woman didn’t let her finish. “You’ve been sent by Domenico?”

This time, Misty really looked at her, noting the hard glint in the woman’s dark eyes and the supercilious curl of her lip. This woman was on first name basis with Domenico? She was very – for lack of a better word - aggressive. It was the first thing people would likely notice about her.

Her face was too hard and angular to be called pretty. A handsome woman, more like. An unbelievably sexy handsome woman, Misty amended to herself, taking note of the hourglass figure.

“Are you deaf?” the woman snapped.

Misty flushed. “I’m sorry. I, uhh, yes, I was sent by---”

The woman cut her off again. “Come with me then.”

They took the elevator to the penthouse floor, the woman sniffing at her throughout the brief journey. When they stepped past the glass doors leading to the expansive office inside, Misty tried not to mind how people here were
still
staring at her and, by the looks of it, sniffing at her, too.

Misty tucked her hair behind her ears, using it as a way of avoiding their gazes.

“Feeling self-conscious?” the woman asked snidely.      

Instead of answering, she said, “I don’t think I caught your name---”

The other woman appeared livid at her question.

Misty cringed. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t catch it.”

“It’s Rebecca, but as far as you’re concerned you may call me Ms. Findley and that’s it. I don’t associate with women like you.”

Misty blinked. “Women like me?” She would have understood the contempt if she had been dressed in her usual clothes, but Misty knew she looked more than representable today. Mark’s taste in clothes was excellent, with an eye for both quality and fit. Her two-piece charcoal suit cost a fortune, and the bag and shoes Mark had also picked out for her were just as pricey.

Eyes boring through her, Rebecca hissed, “We all know you’re Domenico’s latest mistress.”

Four hours later, Misty locked herself in a restroom cubicle and pressed her fists to her eyes. This was hell.

She was not a secretary here. That woman – Rebecca – had made her the mail girl. It wasn’t that bad really, if only she wasn’t wearing three-inch heels (because she had wanted to make a good impression) and she didn’t have to visit each floor of the building to deliver and receive mail. It wouldn’t have been that bad if half of the people weren’t looking at her like she was the most despicable insect, wouldn’t have been that bad if the other half weren’t looking at her like she was a frog to be dissected.

She sighed.

Too bad her old mantra “I need my job” wouldn’t work in this case.

She so badly needed a mantra, but she couldn’t think of any at the moment.

With still forty-five minutes left for her lunch break, Misty climbed all the way to the rooftop, foregoing the elevator because she was less likely to bump into anyone by taking the stairs. One of the council’s employees had told her that the rooftop area was quite private, having caught sight of her red-rimmed eyes.

When she reached the rooftop, Misty knew right away it was perfect for her. Although it had only old benches scattered around, there were also dozens of trees and flowering plants growing from garden beds, which lent the place a serene atmosphere one usually wouldn’t find in the middle of Miami.

Misty stood at the corner, eyes closed, enjoying the breeze, and savoring the freedom from all those prying and contemptuous eyes.

“May I join you?”

Her eyes flew open and she stiffened when she saw a tall man in a suit looking at her curiously. He seemed close to her age, with hair that turned copper under the sun, fair skin, and laughing gray eyes. He was sensually gorgeous like Domenico, but it wasn’t the same. He couldn’t hold a candle to Domenico’s swoon-worthy looks as far as Misty was concerned.

She smiled politely. “Of course.”

Jayme Cavalier studied the woman everyone was saying was Domenico Moretti’s newest mistress. It could be true, considering how she had Moretti’s scent all over her. But her appearance shocked him. In spite of her impeccable clothes, she was still
ordinary.

She didn’t seem Moretti’s taste at all, with her windswept hair, makeup-less face, and of course – who wouldn’t be able to notice those curves? He always saw the older Lyccan dating only stick-thin blondes so it behooved and intrigued him to find out exactly what attracted Moretti to the slip of a girl in front of him.

And of course, there was the fact that Misty Wall was human. She was the first of her kind that Domenico had introduced to Lyccan society. Most Lyccans saw humans as pets, worthy only of meaningless affairs. As far as Jayme knew, Moretti had never indulged in human relations until now. Could she be that good in bed?

“You look troubled,” he commented.

She didn’t speak, smart girl.

“Have the women been giving you a hard time because of the rumors about you and Moretti?”

She was visibly dismayed, which oddly discomfited him. “You heard about it, too?”

“
Everyone
knows about it by now,” he said awkwardly. “What exactly is your relationship with him if what the rumors are saying isn’t true?”

The woman bit her lip. “I don’t think I’m at liberty to say.”

Interesting
, he thought. Was she truly loyal or was she just being practical?

Out loud, he said simply, “Then we won’t speak about it. How’s your day so far?”

“It’s been…enlightening.”

He grinned. “That bad, huh?”

She laughed.

And that was when he saw it. Lyccans were extremely sensitive creatures and when the woman laughed, it was then he sensed the beauty in her, something delicate and strong at the same time.

“I just….I don’t understand. Why are everyone here so interested in---” When she paused, Jayme knew it was because she almost referred to Domenico by his first name.

“Why do they care about what Mr. Moretti so much? I know he’s rich and powerful and all that, but so are a lot of people here.”

Jayme shook his head in amusement. She didn’t know that Moretti was expected to be one of the leaders of the Lyccan Council one day? That many believed he would be the one royal born destined to lead all other pack leaders under his command?

“He’s just very well-respected,” he said finally and changed the subject. “Did Moretti send you to work in the mail department?”

“No. I was supposed to be a substitute secretary.”

“Then why are you…?”

“I didn’t think it was worth the trouble, demanding a change of job. Besides, Domenico told me I should understand how…things worked here and I could do that more if I’m not chained to a desk.”

Jayme was impressed more and more. She really was smart.

He said slowly, “But…you know, you should make an effort to really get to know people. Observation can only go so far.” He couldn’t believe he was saying all these things. He was typically self-centered and proud of it. So why was he concerned about this girl all of a sudden?

The woman’s shoulders slumped. “I know. But I’m not that good at getting to know people---”

He stood up. “It’s up to you, of course. But you seemed to want to do what Moretti instructed you so…” Jayme trailed off.

She stood up, too. “You’re right,” she sighed out. A dimpled smile suddenly appeared on her face, one that entranced him because it was so refreshingly unspoiled. No artificial ingredients. 100% natural.

Misty beamed at him. “Thanks for helping.” She offered her hand, saying shyly, “I’m Misty, by the way.”

Jayme took it, and with just one touch he knew. It was like that for Lyccan. Just a sniff of a woman’s scent, a touch of her skin – just one of that was more than enough to know whether sexual chemistry would be present or not. And between him and Misty, it would be explosive.

“Thank you again,” she said, still smiling. “I’ll leave first. I have work to do, like you said.” She waved cheerfully before walking away.

For a long time, Jayme simply stood there, staring without seeing.

Ah well.

It was decided then.

He was going to steal her from Moretti.

~~~~

Across the street, on the rooftop area of another building, Domenico Moretti observed the entire scene between Misty and the heir to the Cavalier clan. Jayme rarely visited the Lyccan Hall, preferring not to have a hand in Lyccan politics, but Domenico had known there was a chance the younger man would come today to visit his father and he had gambled on that chance.

He wanted Jayme on his side when he presented his proposal to the council for voting, but Domenico also knew that Jayme would never have voted for him as a rule. Or at least he wouldn’t unless Misty entered the picture – and which she had.

Domenico knew just how irresistible Misty could be and as he had predicted, she had enslaved Jayme Cavalier and without even knowing it.

“You are not worried the younger boy will steal her from you?” Matteo asked. Although non-Lyccans simply saw the other man as Domenico’s personal chauffeur and bodyguard, Matteo was more than that. He was Domenico’s second-in-command, his oldest best friend, and the son of his father’s retainer. Matteo might not have royal blood, but the years he had devoted to serving Domenico gave him a unique right and privilege to speak honestly with him.

Shrugging, he ignored the niggle of doubt treacherously crawling along his spine and said with feigned blandness, “Everything is according to plan. There is nothing for me to worry about.”

“He is smitten with her, perhaps too much than you bargained,” Matteo continued.

Domenico’s fists clenched.

So perhaps he was just the slightest bit apprehensive. And jealous.

But the fact remained: he needed Cavalier’s vote.

“I have nothing to worry about,” he finally said and changed the subject. “Let’s leave.”

Matteo gave him one telling look before bowing. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

Twenty minutes later, on his way to one of the scores of meetings he had to attend each day, Domenico called Misty on her mobile phone.
It was not because he was worried
, he told himself swiftly. It was only because he wanted to, well, make sure she was ---
the same.

That Jayme Cavalier had not messed things up.

Because if he had, Domenico would---

“Domenico?”

He relaxed slightly at the sound of eagerness in Misty’s voice. Smiling, he answered softly, “Si.”

“H-hi,” Misty stammered over the phone.

“You’re okay?”

“Absolutely.”

There had been a note of hesitation in her voice. What could he make of that? He said on impulse, “I’ll pick you up later.”