Damn. She's going to be a handful.
Vincent had known it from the second her violent green eyes found his. He followed the Hoodman heiress from a safe distance as she led the way through the glass door of her office. He could practically feel the waves of anger rolling off. The peppery scent of her rage tickled his nose, and the way she'd eyed him in the boardroom-like a feral cat-he wasn't sure it was safe, just the two of them.
He'd only come across a few witches in his thirty-two years, including Nymira, the dream witch. They typically kept to their covens and their secrets to their grimoires, but he'd heard enough stories, seen enough, to know the dangers of crossing one. While shifters were beings created from primal magic, a witch was one who could channel-control-that magic and transform it. He'd heard some had been powerful enough to part seas. To curse men to fools and slip potions to pull truths from lips; even make pacts with devils. Yet here he was, in the office of a woman tied to the most influential coven in the State.
A ballsy move on his part, but one needed ''big apples' in a place like New York. Fangs and claws didn't just hide in the city's supernatural underbelly. They lurked in every boardroom. Behind, every handshake and thinly veiled smile. This place ate the weak and Vincent was an apex predator... he only needed to find out what made this woman tick.
"Come in, I'll just be a minute." Ally marched behind her desk and gestured to a white couch on the right, with two plush arm-chairs on either side. "Please make yourself comfortable," she intoned and then, seeming to catch herself in the habit, huffed, "or don't. I don't care."
Vincent chuckled, watching her nose scrunch. He didn't need his heightened senses to sniff out her emotions when her face was an open book. He risked a step over the threshold, sensing nothing untoward or magical as he surveyed the brightly lit corner office.
Not as big as mine. But the view is nice. A skyline overlooking the precious green space of Battery Park, and beyond the murky blue-gray of the Hudson River. Floor to ceiling windows ran the length of the right side, highlighting the natural cream tones in the office. Her oval desk, a pale wood shade with a high-back leather swivel chair, covered in papers and empty ceramic coffee cups. A bit of a slob, though.
Ally tapped on her computer, bringing it to life, and sunk into the leather chair; the gentle tapping of her fingers punctuating the stillness. He could feel her eyes on him as he took a leisurely walk about the space, trying to sniff out any hex bags. Perhaps a ward carved behind her 'hang in there' cat picture, with an orange cat dangling from a tree branch.
He tilled it to the side before commenting, "interesting decor choice." Nothing behind this one.
"Don't touch my stuff," she snapped from her spot at the desk, aggressively clicking on her mouse. Trying to search through folders on the screen, while concurrently monitoring him.
"Patience is not my virtue, Miss Hooman," he tutted. "Are we planning on having that discussion? Or did you invite me in for other reasons?" His gaze slid to hers, watching her green eyes widen and her mouth part into a little 'o' before collecting herself with a cough. It's too easy.
"I'm not discussing anything further until you sign the NDA." Fingers punched the keyboard with force. "Just give me a minute to print this off. It seems my secretary fell off a bridge or got kidnapped or something..." she muttered the last bit to herself.
"I could recommend an excellent one."
"So you can insert your little spies into my space? No, thank you," she snapped, turning her focus back to the task at hand.
Not as stupid as I hoped.
Thinking it unwise to poke the hissy redhead further, he continued his hunt for magical items in silence. Anything that could give him a handle on this woman and a clue as to the why. Why was his pack being targeted?
Having sensed magic at the warehouse, he returned the following evening with bolt cutters and a small crew to inspect it. But the warehouse was empty, and the scent faded. His sole lead now was the building owners, the Hoodman Group, and at the helm, chairwoman Elenor. A goliath in both the supernatural and business world. They were old money in this city. An empire with a deep, extensive network of their own. He liked to think he knew almost every underground system, shady deal and creature lurking in the city's depths, but information on the Hooman Group was sparse and riddled with speculation.
It was a real puzzler. They had no quarry with witches. Their clans had maintained a respectful distance in the past. Well, whatever peace they had shared, he'd just thrown a grenade on the field with this little stunt.
Vincent had considered it was possible an unrelated magic user had used that spot, knowing it was owned by the large coven. In fact, it was his first hunch, given their beef with the vulture clan. He'd spent several months giving the witches the benefit of the doubt, digging into old family feuds and anyone related to those they'd whacked. But after months with no leads, they lost another wolf... Michael. A loyal pack member who lived on the Upper West Side and ran several restaurants for him. It was a devastating loss, and with it, Vincent's patience snapped. He spent another month meticulously preparing for this takeover. Now it was time to rattle some cages- see if any skeletons popped out.
He skimmed a wall of white built-in bookshelves at the back, cluttered with popular investing books, pottery, and a few framed family photos. He recognized a younger version of the Chairwoman smiling with the Heiress, in a graduation cap, but it was the one beside it that struck his eye. A little girl with long strawberry blonde hair, giggling on the lap of a ginger haired man- presumably the girl's father, and a woman with long white blonde hair standing behind them, poised stiffly, but with a warm smile. The little girl's green eyes sparkled.
"Is this you?" His fingers reached, curling around the worn wooden frame, drawing the picture closer for inspection. The edges looked distressed, like it had been picked up many times.
"Don't!" She stood up, chair rolling back to hit the wall with a dramatic effect. "I'll ask you again to not touch my things."
He could almost hear the growl in her voice. Then he felt it, just a small prickle across his skin. An itchy sensation, as the surrounding air thrummed. Magic. A similar sensation to when he imposed his aura on others, but this was different then the dense pressure of his power; it was like a static charge, quick and fleeting, that set his instincts on edge.
Posture stiffening, he braced himself as she stomped toward him, waiting for her to call the elements. To burn or freeze him where he stood. Or perhaps she was the sneaky sort of witch to slip a serum between his lips. He was curious how she'd get it there. Instead, she ripped the picture frame from his hand and placed it back with care on the shelf before pinning him with a glare.
"Seeing as you have about as much self-control as a toddler, I'll ask you to please sit and wait while I finish with this. Or is that too difficult for you as well?" Her green eyes flashed at him with a challenge, the effect ruined by her short height.
"I see we're dispensing with the niceties."
"For you, there were never any niceties."
Mouthy little thing. She reminded him of a yappy fox with that puff of rust red hair baring its teeth. She's going to fight me at every turn, isn't she?
"You-" his thoughts sputtered and died with the rest of his brain cells when he caught a whiff of something. A little musky with a fresh, almost citrus scent and...and. It was missing something like the straw without the berry. Was this her scent? He stepped into her space for further inspection and she stepped back as he advanced till he had her against the wall and leaned down to inhale. Most people carried a distinct scent like a perfume and this was not the floral mix of jasmine and gardenia she'd sprayed on her neck and wrist- awful stuff. This was... better. Potent and yet wrong... what's missing?
"I have a boyfriend." A voice squeaked below him and his brain whirled to life. He had the petite redhead pinned, arms on either side, her eyes scrunched shut and her hands pushing on his chest-hard. Boyfriend? Did she think...
You stupid beast, he mentally kicked the part of him that always seemed responsible for his troubles. He'd been so lost in the scent he hadn't even realized he cornered the poor woman like prey.
Vincent cleared his throat. "Congratulations on your boyfriend," he panned, as even toned as possible. "Just thought you'd like to go the rest of the day without crumbs on your jacket." He made a show of brushing her shoulders at the imaginary crumbs perpetuating his hasty lie.
"Sorry I thought...nevermind." Her cheeks flushed. She looked away, seeming to ponder something, and then her head snapped back to him with that same determined hate. At least she bought it. "You know, a normal person would have just said something. But I guess manners aren't your strong suit either?"
He smirked. "A disappointment, I'm sure."
Ally huffed as he pushed off the wall, stepping back and allowing her space to move around him, but instead she stepped in, rising on her tiptoes toward his face.
"What are you doing?" He leaned back, entirely confused.
"Checking for fangs. Corporate blood suckers come in all shapes and sizes these days." She fixed him with a pointed gaze. "Doesn't feel nice to have your personal space violated, does it?"
"Wrong species," he joked, not enjoying being compared to those dust bags. His skin prickled with that magical itch at her proximity.
"Yeah, you're right, should have gone with, devil. I can practically see your horns." The Heiress smiled; quick on the rebuttal as she moved around him toward her desk and, standing, leaned over her computer, clicking away at the keys again, her face still flushed.
"That's-" Wait. No 'fur-ball' comments or 'oversized mutt?' Odd... "I would've thought werewolf was the obvious choice."
"Oh, cause of your name? Nah, I'm sticking with devil." With a final click of her mouse, she stood staring at him. "Are you good to stay here while I grab the paperwork, Mr. Wolf? Or are you going to violate anymore of my space while I'm gone?" She looked down her nose at him as one does a misbehaving child, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"No. I-... No."
Seeming satisfied at his sudden lapse to articulate, she turned heel, out the door and down the hall in her frumpy pantsuit. A smirk on her lips.
Even from here he could hear the printer groaning, the smell of ink hitting paper, the conversations of people that shuffled down the hall just outside her office, but couldn't he be bothered to focus on any of that. Or worry about his tongue-tied blunder, because he had potentially just come across a startling discovery. A witch that didn't know she was a witch.
By the Goddess. There's no way, right?
He could sense the magic on her, but perhaps she was oblivious to it. To this world. Either Chairwoman Eleanor had hid the supernatural from her granddaughter, or she was a phenomenal actress. Though from her facial expressions, the former seemed far more likely.
He had to be sure. This wasn't a lead to the Moon Sickness, but it was something. Where one secret lay, surely more were buried.
Vincent paced the length of the room, senses strained, mind spinning with this new revelation as he honed on her strange scent down the hall like a bloodhound. He lapped the room for the fifth time, waiting for what felt like hours. How many pages is this bloody thing?
Finally, he could hear the tap of her low heels coming closer. He took a seat on the white couch in a sportsman show of cooperation.
When she opened the door, her gaze immediately traveled to his stiff posture on the white sofa. He blinked up innocently. See? Not touching anything.
Papers in one hand, she reached for a mug stuffed with pens on her desk with the other, placing both on the coffee table before sitting on one of chairs beside him.
"Sign first," she nodded to the paperwork. "Then we can discuss the distribution routes and our providers."
Vincent picked up the pages skimming through the boilerplate disclosure with half-focus, then asked, "so, are you up to date with the O.S.C then?" He said it like he was making small talk, flipping another page. All paranormals knew about the Order of Supernatural Creatures, an organization that monitored the activity of supernatural beings, treaties, and clans. Even Hunters had to clear any bounty with the board.
She cocked her head, a few red strands sliding across her face. "O.S.C?...Is that a show? Or a new tax code?"
Strike two.
"European football, actually." The lie was sloppy, but his mind was still reeling. Why doesn't she know?
"I'm more of an American football girl."
"Ah."
"Matt's a huge New York Giants fan."
"Oh, well Ryan will love you." He mused. Is Matt the boyfriend? He noted that information away.
"Excuse me?"
Shit. Did I say that out loud? Vincent cleared his throat. "Ryan, the Financial Officer of Shield Corp?"
"I remember." Ally snipped, eyes narrowing like he'd taken a stab at her intelligence.
"He used to play college ball. Quite good. Almost drafted for-"
"I don't really care," she cut in. "Now if-"
"What about magic?" he blurted, unable to help himself. His eyes searched her face for a twitch or nervous tic as he listened to her heartbeat, seeing if it would give away any lies.
"Like, David Copperfeild magic?" Why? You thinking of buying a magic act to add to your collection?" She snorted.
"Just-making small talk. Seeing what you're into." Strike three... Goddess. She really doesn't know.
"My interests are none of your concern. So, if we're done with the small talk?" Her eyes flicked down to the papers in his hand then back to him like he was some three horned monster, thanks to his odd line of questioning.
"Right." He knew they were never going to get off on the right foot, but he didn't need her questioning his sanity.
She picked up a pen from the mug twirling it round her finger like a small weapon as she waited for him to finish reading-which was proving difficult thanks to her distraction-then proceeded to gnaw on the tip like some sort of small angry chipmunk, her eyes distant, like she was lost in thought.
His mind wandered to other pen shaped things that could fit in that little mouth-goddess, what is wrong with me? Objectively, she wasn't even that attractive. No, that's a lie. Though her hair seemed to have a medusa-like mind of its own, her eyes were large. Pretty. A heart-shaped face and full lips. He'd definitely scoured her social media-her entire family tree, really, before the buyout. Parents deceased, and no immediate family except for her grandmother and some estranged cousins overseas.
He'd lied about knowing only her name. He'd done his homework, but no dirt. No past lovers in pictures or anything to glean her passions. Her social accounts were set to private and any public photos only showed her in professional settings- charity balls, galas. In tight dresses that hugged her curves. Though the outfit today did nothing for her frame...
"You always stare at people so intensely?" Her voice brought him from his thoughts as he glanced up to see her face scrunched in mimicry. It was oddly adorable. He paused, his frown deepening. Adorable? Was he near his rut or something? Seriously...Maybe the room is hexed. Her pen, still between her teeth, as she added, "I feel like you're thinking of different places to hide the body."
"Close," he smirked, to mask his discomfort. "You always have a taste for pens? Or is this a recent craving?"
She ripped it out of her mouth, slamming it on the desk. "Just sign the contract-please," her tone exasperated.
"If you stop distracting me, I can."
"You are thoroughly annoying..."
"Oh Miss Hoodman, I'm nothing if not thorough." He flashed a smile and pulled a pen from the mug, pausing when he noticed a teeny tiny addendum at the bottom. Oh, what's this?
The woman was surprisingly articulate with legal jargon. He almost didn't even spot the little contact she'd tried to slip in. Smart witch.
He cocked an eyebrow at the last line, then read out loud."Party B–I assume that's me?" She nodded. "Is required to report to Party A–you–any and all investment and management related activities pertaining to Corner Sweets and must comply with all directions and instructions given by Party A. A little juvenile, don't you think?"
"What, you don't like it?" If I'm managing, those are my terms. I need to be in the know." Ally tucked a few strands of loose hair behind her ear. Bit of a spoiled brat, though.
There was fire in her gaze, defiance, and the beast surged, his alpha instinct demanding submission. Smiling, he scratched out the clause initialing on the side with a 'tisk'. "That's no way to treat a potential partner."
Her face scrunched in disgust.
"Don't like that phrasing?" he smirked. "Would you prefer I call you subordinate? Considering I own the company that you run and whether you retain that position...Unless you'd like to run to dear old Grandma and ask for another of her subsidiaries to take over?" He leaned toward her, cupping his hand to his ear. "Come on, let's hear you say, Director Wolf."
"Fuck you."
"I'm doing you a favor, Miss Hoodman. Take this time as... an opportunity to show me why you're worth keeping on."
"Why I'm... wait, what? I thought you said you wouldn't change upper management? You said this would be a friendly merger in the boardroom!"
"That remains to be seen. There are still thirty days to close, and my company holds a majority share. We could just as easily absorb and liquidate it. Don't make me regret giving you a chance, partner."
"Why you–!" Her body was vibrating.
"If you can just initial here, to void the addendum and sign." He flipped the paper to her, and she stabbed her pen to the page, roughly scrawling across it. "Great. And please send a copy to my office. I'm sure you know how." He stood, satisfied. "See you next Thursday, Miss Hoodman."
"Thursday?"
"Once a week, right? That day works best for my schedule."
"Why should I have to- Wait. What about the distribution section? We're not done talking!" She jumped up to stop him.
"I'm afraid I'm out of time, Miss Hooman." He made a show of looking at his watch. "We can discuss next week, since we'll be seeing more of each other." Vincent turned with a wave of his hand and strode out, not wanting to stay for her wrath.
Her scent spiked with the distinct smell of cayenne pepper, the air static charged with her rage. Very mad. He suppressed a chuckle but couldn't stop the smile from reaching the corners of his mouth as he exited the building, blending in with the midday crowd to walk the several blocks back to his office building- conveniently close.
Toying with this woman was by far the highlight of his morning and he'd already discovered quite the curiosity. It seemed the Hooman Group held more than just one secret behind their walls and he was determined to uncover it all.
There had to be a way, a cure. A something... Hope. What sort of Alpha couldn't even offer his pack that?