FIFTY-SIX

Ethan

WE'RE SITTING AROUND the dining room table, waiting for Billie to join us for the last of the business dinner discussions so we can decide which one we will each take on to help Xander out.

Jaxson, Warren, and I hired an assistant for Xander yesterday, a wolf-shifter named Caroline Flannigan from, fuck , Xander's pack. My mind is still trying to grapple with the fact that Xander's taken on the title of alpha for an entire pack. His father's former pack. So fast. Everything is moving so fast.

Caroline is in her mid-forties and works part time as a paralegal for Warren's firm. We've already put her to work, having her gather summaries of each of the companies, Xander's specified role on each board, and a rough number of hours expected per company based on his father's schedule from the last two years.

The one we're discussing tonight by far took up the most of his time. To make it even more concerning, according to the information Randall and Clyde provided Alessandro and Councilmen MacNeill and Swanson, this one might be linked to the missing orphans. This is why Jax has labeled tonight as Billie's Double Feature of Dread since we're meeting with Alessandro and Councilman Swanson about their findings after the four of us get our bearings on this company. It's also the one Rachael Bordeaux's father is CEO of, making it that much more of a viper's nest.

The light pattering of feet barely touching the floor—Billie skipping her way across the catwalk above us—brings a pleased smile to my face. I don't know exactly what happened last night, but when she woke up this morning and crawled out from under the blanket of Xander's hoodie, her inner light was back. Then she openly made out with both Xander and me in a hall filled with students. Something's changed.

She bounds down the stairs with more energy and enthusiasm than she's had for any of these meetings. My ears tune in to the tinkling sounds of her giggles, and my smile spreads wider. If a little fire is what brought her out of the emotional funk she was in over the last couple of days, then I'm all for it. I'll even buy the marshmallows.

The three of us look toward the great room just as she slides across the wood floors and into view, like Tom Cruise in Risky Business . Her hair is in a high ponytail, and she's wearing black thick-rimmed glasses, a white T-shirt with a black tie screen-printed on the front, and a pair of black booty shorts.

She drops her gum and all her note-taking materials on the table and pulls out her chair between Xander and me. Leaning back in her seat, she plops her feet on the table and crosses her ankles, showing off a pair of knee-high socks with " It's Business Time " and the face of Jermaine from the Flight of the Conchords screen-printed on them. Wiggling her toes she starts crooning, "When I'm down to my socks it's time for business. That's why they're called business socks." Giggles break through her tone-deaf performance, and she gasp-sings, "It's business, it's business time... business hours are over, baby!" Having thoroughly cracked herself up, she collapses in her chair cackling and gasping.

Jax busts out laughing, hunching over himself watching her through teary eyes. Xander and I both stare at her with stunned eyes and open-mouthed smiles while she falls to the floor wheezing. "Just give me a second, I'll... I'll get myself under control." Rolling onto her knees and placing her hands on the chair, she pushes herself up and comes to a seat. Taking on her attempt at a serious business persona, she straightens her spine and pushes her glasses up. Interlacing her hands on the table, she turns to Xander and giggle-states, "Please begin."

Xander's sitting at the head of the ebony dining table with his laptop open, his screen projected on the TV we set up on the back wall above the matching ebony buffet table. His entire being is frozen; he's staring at her with an almost desperate intensity. His eyes stray to the TV, where the PowerPoint presentation is already opened with the title slide "Decoction Biopharmaceuticals Corp." taking up the screen. He focuses back on Billie, whose face is still flushed from her own antics. With wide eyes, he blurts out, "I need you on this one." His throat bobs with an audible gulp as he croaks, "Please."

Billie's brows dip in confusion and she mutters, "Huh?"

Xander leans toward her with his elbows on his jean-clad knees. Licking his lips, he hoarsely pleads, "Wilhelmina, please, I need you on this business. With me, please." Damn, that's two please s—three if you count the one before.

Billie's eyes, which have been fixed on Xander's lips, warily slide to the packet on the table in front of her. Using just her fingertips as if she's afraid that just one paper cut could kill her, she cautiously flips over the first page and begins reading through the description and list of board members, CEO, COO, directors, and expected commitments based on previous years, which goes on for several pages. There are at least twenty social events, ranging from holiday parties to fundraisers, golf tournaments, and galas. Most of them are local, meaning Massachusetts and New York, but there are a few in Ireland.

Xander's jaw is clenched behind his fisted hands, and his eyes are absolutely frantic while he watches her read through the information, her face paling with each flip of paper. Checking in with the bond, I sense how desperately he wants her at his side when it comes to this company and how nervous he is that she'll deny him. His emotions are strong enough that I know I'll help him get her on board if needed.

She numbly shakes her head and blows out a long "Duuuuudddeeee." She sits back in her chair, looking at the three of us. "Xander," she sputters, "the science on this... I mean E would be perfect. And, like, the social events. . ." Her hand is shaking as she tugs on her ear. "Jax would charm—"

"Love," I interrupt, placing my hand on her bare thigh. "You know you'll be fine with the science, and possibly even understand it better than me, so that's not the issue." She glares at me like the traitorous letch that I am, but at least I won't be alone.

"This is also the one most likely linked to the missing orphans, Billie," Jax adds, bending around me to make eye contact with her. Her glare narrows on him like how dare he . Jax just shows her his pearly whites.

"Even a better reason to have one of you two take this one," she snaps, pointing a finger at the packet. "I can't do those events with all that press." Her voice trembles, and she whips her finger around to point at Xander while scowling at Jax and me. "He can't be seen with me—the girl who had to repeat two grades, who got bounced from foster home to foster home. Then there's what I'll need to do to cope with it all, because I don't think I'll be able to put on the mask needed for me to be presentable!"

Billie

I guess I dressed too seriously for this meeting with my business socks and thick-rimmed glasses. At least, that's the only thing I can think of that would have invited Xander's request. This company is the pinnacle of my fears and insecurities when it comes to this version of him.

"I need you, Wilhelmina," Xander repeats after I just laid out all the details as to why I am not the prime candidate.

I turn to him in disbelief. Swooshing my hand in front of me, I protest. "Did you not just hear the reasons why I'm not suitable for this? I can't be who you want me to be at these events."

He regards me for a long couple of seconds, his eyes showing a flash of hurt and then anger. His face turns hard, and he hisses "And who exactly do you think I want you to be?"

Reclining back into the cushioned chair, I fold my arms over my stomach and try to think this through. I've got no idea why he's angry or hurt. I mean seriously, doesn't he see how this makes me feel? How it highlights all the things that I'm not, everything that I'm lacking. But maybe he's not seeing that.

I angle myself toward him while retaining my leaned-back posture, which has me leaning on Ethan, the traitor . He opens up his shoulder for me, and traitor or not, I still snuggle into the space offered and sigh. "Look, Xander, maybe you think I have the capability to mingle with wealthy people, go to fancy dinners, and somehow find a way to blend in with them." I roll my eyes. "To smile, nod, and fake laugh. To pose elegantly for pictures, be comfortable with whatever conversations they may have, act like I care, and sit there bored without getting myself into some sort of mischievous distraction from the angst I'll undoubtedly feel." I hitch a shoulder. "But I don't. I thought maybe I could, but..." Shaking my head, I snarl a half grin. "I know that at some point I won't be able to restrain myself. The me, the real me will leak out, and you don't want that."

Xander's eyes lift to Ethan, probably finally understanding what I'm trying to tell him. Jax clears his throat and says, "She doesn't know what she's implying, X."

Sitting up and out of Ethan's loose embrace, I turn to face Jax with furrowed brows. "What do you mean?"

Jax leans toward me with his arm on the table and his head in his hand. Raising his brows and giving me a sympathetic grin, he drawls, "Donny, do you honestly think Xander would want you to be anyone other than you? That he doesn't know you well enough to know WHO exactly he's practically begging to be with him?"

I stare at Jax, but I'm not seeing it. I'm not seeing through what my own perception of this is, blinded by my own thoughts and insecurities. Grunting, I throw myself back into my chair and push my glasses up, rubbing my eyelids with the palms of my hands, hoping they'll wipe away the mental film clouding my understanding. "Fuck," I lowly curse. Sitting up and sliding my glasses back down, I turn to Xander. "Just say whatever it is I'm not getting, because clearly I'm missing something."

Xander and I stare at each other. There's hurt and frustration in his eyes, and I'm hurting for hurting him, and that frustrates me. The ridiculousness of us both staring at each other, feeling the same exact feckin' feelings, has the corners of my lips pulling up. "Please, Alexander."

He scoots his bum to the edge of his chair while keeping his elbows on his knees, which pulls his T-shirt tight against his muscular biceps. I angle toward him and tuck my ankle under my bum in a cross-legged position. Xander looks directly into my eyes, into my soul. "I"—he points to himself, clarifying— "not anyone else, not for anyone else"—he taps his chest again— "need you ." He points to me. "YOU, Wilhelmina. I don't want a diluted version of you. I don't want you wearing a mask. I need YOU with me." I'm about to speak, but he holds his hand up. I snap my mouth shut. His eyes gleam with an inner knowing. He licks his lips and slowly says, " You. My peace of mind. My all. My center ." He pauses, and I suck down an inhale. Did he just. . .? Yup, based on the smartass look in his eyes and the raise of his brows in challenge, the tosser just knowingly quoted Tool lyrics to me.

He grins like a chess champion who just played the move two moves before checkmate. Then he clears his throat and reaches out to take hold of one of my hands. His thumb trembles just the slightest as he brushes over my nails, and the corners of his eyes turn down at the edge while he holds my stunned stare. He rasps, "I need your hand in mine. I need you at my side. I need inside games to play with you. I need inside jokes to share and. . ." He puffs out a short laugh "And the words of wisdom that just tumble from that heart-shaped mouth of yours. I need your eyes that see through what others show. Shit, I need your brain, ADHD and all, because you think differently. But most of all, I need your love for me, for being the hot-ass soccer player and nothing more, for being Alexander." He swallows and thickly murmurs, "I need you to steady me, to lift me up, and to remind me I'm worthy without all of this."

I'm looking at him like a trout, or maybe a small-mouthed bass. Your pick, either one—my mouth is fully hanging open. "I'm an idiot," I numbly mumble. A bark of laughter bursts from Jax, and he starts clapping his hands in joyous celebration of the light breaking over my marble head.

Ethan kisses my granite-like skull and says, "Not an idiot, love. You just saw what others would want you to see. You've never been ashamed about being an orphan or being in foster care. Be the example." I tilt my head back to face Ethan, his eyes dark reflecting back the depth of his own understanding. He shrugs a shoulder. "Sometimes people need to see others coming from a similar situation and succeeding in order to know it's possible."

"Right," I exhale. "Roger Bannister and the four-minute mile."

Ethan bobs his head. "Yeah, so you could use this platform to inspire others." His fingers trace along my forehead, sweeping my bangs back while they continue down the curve of my face and under my jaw. His touch is confident and delicate, as if he knows my every pore and cherishes each one. My body melts. "Just make sure you own your awesomeness. Xander is with you, just as much as you are with him."

With glowing eyes, Xander comes to hunch over me, his hands gripping the edge of my tufted white linen seat. A wolfish grin spreads across his face, and he purrs. "Do you know what that means, Duchessa, la mia piccola volpe ?"

My eyes glow with Little Fox responding to her name being called. She floats down on her hind legs, fluffing out her tail and puffing out her chest, looking all regal and sultry. Xander's cheek brushes against mine, and I feel it in my toes. His whisper is a warm breeze on my ear. "You'll have to claim me and own me. Let them all know I'm yours." Goosebumps shimmer over my flesh as I remember how delicious it felt to do just that today.

Trailing my hands up his muscular abs and firm chest, feeling the heat emanating off him, I let myself flow with my desires. My hands grip onto the tight material stretched over his broad shoulders, and I shove him back. Xander makes a choking startled noise while I follow him all the way to his seat. Straddling him, one hand slides up the back of his scalp, my fingers tugging on his hair while my other hand comes around to clamp the side of his face. A full-body quake ripples through him at the feeling of my tongue harshly licking across his cheek to his ear. Sucking that tender piece of flesh into my mouth, I lick and flip the lobe and then I bite down. His blood dribbles on my tongue, sending prickles down my throat that are met with the rasping of a needy growl erupting from my chest. My body moves with my mouth's desires. My tongue licks, my body rocks. My mouth sucks, my body grinds.

After one last suckling pull with panted breath, I declare. "You. Are. Mine." The power from my fox emboldens my words, like they're being tattooed onto his blood cells, that each drop of his blood should hold my claim on him.

"Yours," he chokes out in between pants.

Pulling back so we can look into each other's eyes, I possessively grab his chin and smile. "Now tell me all I need to know about this company." Then I give him a few face pats and proceed to unseat myself from his lap. Retaking my spot next to Ethan, I grab a notepad and mechanical pencil, well aware that my booty shorts are damp and that they can totally smell my arousal. Pushing my glasses up, I turn toward the TV and wait for the presentation to start, refusing to look back at Xander.