Chapter 6

SIX

W hat happened next burned itself into Natalie’s memory like a scientific phenomenon she couldn’t explain.

Marcus Vale, CEO and apparent action hero, took down five armed men in the time it would have taken her to write a chemical equation. He moved like a force of nature—graceful, precise, and absolutely terrifying. Yet somehow still elegant, as if violence was just another language he spoke fluently.

Her brain helpfully supplied words like magnificent and primal , which she firmly blamed on lingering effects of her concussion. Though no concussion could explain away the heat pooling in her stomach as she watched him fight. This man ran a multi-billion dollar company. He shouldn’t be able to move like that, shouldn’t make combat look like a deadly dance.

It had to be illegal somewhere, being that attractive while committing acts of justified violence.

When the last attacker fell, Marcus turned to her, his eyes almost glowing in the fluorescent lights. A streak of blood marked his cheek—not his—and his carefully styled hair had fallen forward across his forehead. The disheveled look really worked for him, which was just cosmically unfair.

“Are you hurt?”

“No, I—“ Her knees chose that moment to give out.

Strong arms caught her before she hit the ground. She had a brief impression of solid muscle and expensive cologne before the world spun, faded to black, and...

She woke in what had to be the most ridiculously luxurious bedroom she’d ever seen. Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a stunning view of Central Park. The sheets beneath her felt like clouds woven from pure comfort.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She sat up, taking in the subtle wolf-themed art and masculine décor. Marcus’s penthouse. Because apparently passing out in your boss’s arms—your unfairly attractive, definitely-not-thinking-about-his-muscles boss—resulted in a five-star hotel experience.

Her mother would be thrilled. Eleanor Grant had probably sensed the presence of an eligible bachelor within fifty feet of her daughter and started planning the wedding already.

The thought spurred Natalie into action. She swung her legs out of bed, relieved to find herself still fully dressed, and made for the door.

It opened before she reached it.

Marcus filled the doorway like some sort of suit-wearing mountain. He’d changed into a fresh shirt, crisp white cotton that did nothing to hide his athletic build. The top button lay open, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of tanned throat that absolutely should not have captured her complete attention.

“Going somewhere?”

Even his voice sounded expensive. Rich and smooth like aged whiskey or dark chocolate or some other metaphor that wouldn’t make her sound like a romance novel reject.

“Back to my lab.” She tried to duck past him. He didn’t budge. The movement brought her close enough to catch his scent—sandalwood and something wild she couldn’t name.

Focus, Grant. He’s your boss. Your very off-limits, probably-could-bench-press-a-car boss.

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“You were just attacked by professional thieves. You’re not going anywhere.”

She crossed her arms. “I have work to do.”

“You have surviving to do.”

“I handled those men just fine.”

“With a fire extinguisher.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” She tilted her chin up, refusing to be intimidated by his height or his presence or the way his eyes seemed to darken every time she challenged him.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Natalie?—“

“Don’t ‘Natalie’ me in that alpha CEO voice. I’m not one of your employees who jumps when you growl.” Though she could sort of see the appeal. The man had a voice designed for giving orders.

“No,” he agreed, his eyes darkening to storm-cloud gray. “You’re much more dangerous.”

The way he said it sent shivers down her spine. Not afraid shivers. The other kind. The kind that made her want to test exactly how solid those shoulders were under that fancy shirt.

“Look,” she tried reason, because clearly her hormones had staged a coup against her common sense, “I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself.”

“Like you took care of yourself by creating a potentially volatile formula that people are willing to kill for?”

“That was an accident!”

“Caused by?”

She flushed. “Momentary distraction.”

“Caused by?”

“You! You and your... your everything!” She waved her hands at his general existence. “You can’t just lurk in doorways looking like that and expect people to maintain proper lab safety protocols.”

An unfamiliar snort of laughter outside the door broke the tension.

A man who could have modeled for “Rugged Warrior Monthly” leaned against the hallway wall, grinning at them both. Dark hair, bright blue eyes, and an air of barely contained mischief.

“I like her,” he announced. “She called you lurky, Marcus. I’ve been trying to tell you about your doorway-lurking habit for years. It’s like living with a very well-dressed gargoyle.”

Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Natalie, meet Jax Morgan, my head of security and occasional pain in my ass.”

“Occasional?” Jax clutched his chest in mock offense. “I work very hard to be a constant pain in your ass, thank you very much.” He flashed Natalie a roguish grin. “Someone has to keep His Alphaness from taking himself too seriously. Welcome to the circus, Doc.”

Despite everything, Natalie found herself smiling. “Does he always do the looming thing?”

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet. Wait until he breaks out the ‘Glare of Doom.’ Very effective on board members and wayward pack members alike.”

“Jax.” Marcus’s voice carried a warning that only made Jax’s grin widen.

“See? That’s Glare of Doom level one. There are five levels. I’ve personally witnessed level four, but level five is mostly theoretical. Like Bigfoot but with more brooding.”

Natalie bit her lip to keep from laughing. “And what triggers these levels?”

“Usually? Threats to people he cares about.” Jax’s teasing tone carried an undertone of seriousness. “Which brings us to why you’re here, Doc. Those weren’t ordinary thieves after your research.”

The humor faded from the room.

“Someone powerful wants what you’ve created,” Marcus said quietly. His voice had gone soft, dangerous in a way that really shouldn’t have been attractive. “Someone willing to hire professionals to get it. Until we figure out who and why, you’re staying where I can protect you.”

Natalie wanted to argue. To insist she could handle herself. But the memory of those men, their cold efficiency, their weapons...

“Fine,” she conceded. “But I need access to my research. And coffee. Lots of coffee.”

“Done.” Marcus’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “I’ll have your equipment moved to the secure lab here.”

“You have a lab in your penthouse?”

“He has everything in his penthouse,” Jax stage-whispered. “It’s a whole rich alpha thing. Very Batman but with more fancy suits and less childhood trauma. Though he does brood an impressive amount.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Marcus asked pointedly.

“Nope! Watching you try to out-stubborn the good doctor is way more entertaining than my actual job. Besides, someone needs to document the historic moment of Marcus Vale meeting his match.”

The words sparked something in Marcus’s expression—a flash of heat quickly hidden behind his usual control. But Natalie caught it, and the implications sent her pulse racing.

She was in trouble. So much trouble.

But as she watched Marcus and Jax bicker like brothers, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. Even if having Marcus Vale as a boss was going to test every ounce of her professional control.

At least she’d gone out fighting. With a fire extinguisher.

Her mother would be so proud.