2. Sophia

Outside Irene Faulkner”s office, I perch on the edge of an overstuffed purple velvet chair, suddenly self-conscious about my plum-colored suit. What I thought looked sharp and put together this morning now makes me feel like a lumpy part of the furniture.

The door to Ms. Faulkner”s office is open, but since Rebecca has obviously exited the building, there’s no gate-keeping assistant at the front desk. So I”m stuck here listening to a conversation I probably shouldn”t be hearing. It”s a heated exchange between Oliver and the woman I assume is his older sister Irene. I heard she”s actually married into the Larken family now but keeps her maiden name for the clout it carries.

The voices from inside grow louder, and I catch the name ”Moonlight Gala” woven into their heated discourse. I mull over the significance of what this job would mean for my career. Working alongside Oliver Faulkner on the Moonlight Foundation Gala could be a golden ticket for someone like me, a plain old non-magical human in a dazzling paranormal world. This could be my shot, not just for myself but for my family too.

There are more loud but indecipherable words. I”m torn—do I announce my presence or stay plopped here like a throw pillow? What if they come out and find me? I should probably step out into the hall, but then Oliver”s raised voice edged with urgency, roots me to the spot with curiosity.

”You don”t have to tell me how much is riding on this.”

Irene”s softer tones mingle with Oliver”s raspy baritone. ”This gala is our tribute to her—to Mom. You know the significance of it to her—it was almost mystical. Like if she helped enough other kids to get home, Jason would come home, too. She poured her heart into the Moonlight Foundation, Ollie. And now, with Dad too sick to. . . .” Her voice trails off into silence.

My pulse quickens. Is the famous Faulkner Alpha seriously ill? Maybe powerless to lead? The knowledge is a treasure that Gerard Kray would love to possess. If I were as ruthless as I should be, I”d text him right now. The idea that with a few words, I could empower that vampire’s aspirations sickens me, and yet…that’s exactly what I’ve been hired to do.

Yet, the warmth in Irene’s voice carries an intimacy that tugs at an old sadness deep within me. The tragic death of their mother, socialite Marian Faulkner, was headline news a decade ago and happened around the same time my own brother ran off. These are real people with real problems, just like mine. I don’t relish serving up this family’s crisis on a silver platter. Kray can wait for now.

”Ollie, you know how important this gala is for our corporate reputation, too. We can”t afford any missteps, especially with Kray waiting in the wings to pounce on any weakness. You need to accept how much is riding on your shoulders. I just feel like I hear her voice all the time, telling me what we should do.”

He coughs to interrupt her. “Enough with the mystic mumbo-jumbo. Mom’s dead and I refuse to believe she’s still directing this damned Gala from the grave. Get a grip, Irene.”

“Believe what you want, Oliver. I know what I know. This was important to Mom and it’s been ten years since she died—that is a significant date. This Gala is in her honor, and I won’t let you fuck it up!”

Oliver’s response is quieter. The anger is plain to hear, but I notice he softens it by using her nickname, too. ”Reenie, listen to me. That”s exactly why I”m hesitant to accept someone from Kray”s team on ours. She could be a spy.”

The thought of being outed as a spy for Gerard Kray strikes a little fear in my heart. It’s not like I have a choice to be here. I took the bonus. I shook his hand. But I didn’t know I’d be making a deal with the devil.

In truth, I”m on no one”s side but my own.

Angels weep!All I wanted was a job!

Lord Faulkner has his flaws, too. That scene in the conference room? I was ready to swoon over him until that woman burst in. My sympathies are purely with her. I smooth my skirt, feeling its fabric steady my trembling fingers. A glance at the coffee table”s polished surface serves as a makeshift mirror; I straighten my posture and lift my chin slightly—just enough to project confidence without arrogance.

”Well, too late. Maybe you’ll be a bit more cautious in the future,” Irene hisses back.

”I couldn”t refuse. You weren”t there to see how it went down.”

”I wasn”t there because I’m chained to Father’s every whim!”

”Right. Here we go again.”

”I insist you accept her on your team. We can”t afford to offend Kray. And it will be a lesson for you in keeping your personal life away from your professional one. Besides, I’ve looked over her resume. She’s perfect for the role.”

Okay, totally awkward. Do something, Sophia!

I stand up, trying to pretend I”ve just walked in. I take two casual steps towards the open office door—when BAM, Lord Oliver Faulkner, the werewolf with a temper to match his title, crashes right into me. His arms shoot out, encircling my waist in a grip that”s both unexpectedly gentle and unintentionally intimate.

”Steady there,” he grumbles, more to himself than to me.

My heart does a ridiculous somersault as I clutch his shoulders to keep from tumbling backwards to the floor. He sets me back on my feet but keeps his arms around me. I look up at him expecting an apology. Instead, his hazel eyes narrow into suspicious slits, wordlessly asking not ‘are you okay’ but more like ‘how much did you hear?’

He lets go of me, straightens, then turns on his heel and looks me over.

”You. My office. Now.”

Then he has the gall to snap his fingers.

Oh no he did not just do that!