Page 7 of Falling for My Shifter Boss

I swallow hard, my fingers tightening around my tablet. This is more than just a task—it's trust, responsibility, a chance to prove myself. Despite the nerves curling in my stomach, warmth blooms in my chest at his faith in me.

"I can do that," I say, keeping my voice even while my heart races.

His lips twitch, just barely, and something in his eyes softens for a fraction of a second. "Good."

I turn slightly, ready to make my exit, but before I can take a step, he moves. One moment he's by his desk, the next he's in front of me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. Time seems to slow as his hand lifts—hesitates—before his fingers brush against my temple, pushing a stray curl back from my face.

The touch is brief, barely there, but it sends electricity coursing through my veins. My breath catches in my throat. His eyes darken, pupils dilating, and his fingers linger for just a heartbeat too long. My wolf surges forward, wanting more—wanting everything.

For a moment, I think he might say something—might do something—but then his hand drops. The mask slips back into place, his expression shuttering closed as he takes a deliberate step back. His voice turns cool again, though there's a roughness to it that wasn't there before. "Don't mess it up."

The moment shatters. I exhale sharply, forcing my lips into a smirk even as my skin still tingles from his touch. "Wouldn't dream of it, boss."

I turn and walk away, my steps measured and steady despite the chaos inside me. It's only when I'm safely back at my desk that I allow myself to press my fingers to my temple, where the ghost of his touch still burns like a brand.

My wolf whines, already missing his proximity. I push the feeling down, buried beneath schedules and meetings and professional distance.

But I can still feel his eyes on me through the wall, and I wonder how long we can keep pretending this is nothing more than business.

???

I smooth my palms over my slacks, exhaling as I stand outside the conference room of Blackwell Corporation. The massive glass doors reflect my own impatient expression back at me—amber eyes a little too bright, dark curls refusing to stay properly pinned back despite my best efforts. I don't know why I'm nervous. This is just a meeting. A standard, professional, completely normal meeting.

Except it's not.

Because Theo is on the other side of that door, and Adrian Blackwell is standing beside me, his presence a wall of barely restrained tension. His scent—sandalwood and winter storms—fills my nose, making it harder to focus than I'd like to admit.

"You don't have to stare down the door, Ramirez," Adrian mutters, arms crossed over his broad chest. "It's not going to open out of fear." His voice carries that familiar mix of irritation and amusement that seems reserved just for me.

I roll my eyes and push the door open without knocking, striding in like I own the place. My wolf bristles at his tone, urging me to snap back, but I channel the energy into confidence instead.

Theo and Ethan are already seated at the long conference table, both wearing expressions that immediately set me on edge. Theo, as always, looks like he's been carved from solid rock—tall, sturdy, and exuding the kind of authority only an Alpha could. His dark eyes assess me carefully, checking for any sign that working for Blackwell has changed my loyalty to the pack.

Ethan, on the other hand, lounges back in his chair with the casual grace of someone who knows exactly how attractive they are, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as he watches me enter.

"Well, well," Ethan drawls, tilting his head. "If it isn't Maya Ramirez, still looking like trouble."

I snort, setting my tablet down on the table with perhaps more force than necessary. "And you still look like a headache, Maloney. Good to see some things never change."

Theo doesn’t smile, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his dark eyes. "Maya." His voice is deep, steady—a contrast to the sharp, assessing gaze he flicks toward Adrian as the CEO steps inside behind me.

"This is Detective Ethan Maloney," Theo says, his tone measured as he gestures toward Ethan. "He’s our in with the police—makes sure we stay ahead of any... complications on that front." His meaning is clear: Ethan isn’t just here for pleasantries. He’s a crucial link between the pack and law enforcement, ensuring that human authorities don’t interfere too much in supernatural matters.

Adrian stays silent, but his presence fills the room like smoke, impossible to ignore. He doesn’t need words to command attention. I feel him move to stand near me, close enough that the heat from his body sends little sparks of awareness down my spine—a distraction I don’t need right now.

Theo shifts slightly in his chair, glancing between Adrian and me with an expression I can’t quite read. “Let’s get to it.”

I pull out a chair and sit, acutely aware when Adrian takes the seat beside me. He moves with that same controlled precision he applies to everything, but I swear I can feel the weight of his presence even more now that we’re this close. My wolf stirs restlessly beneath my skin, attuned to the energy in the room, but I push the sensation aside.

I take the lead, grateful for the distraction from Adrian’s proximity. “We all know tensions are rising. The hunters aren’t just lone extremists anymore—they’re organizing. We’ve had incidents near the town borders, and it’s only a matter of time before a real attack happens.” I pause, meeting each man’s gaze in turn. “The gala is an opportunity for us to strengthen alliances, raise funds, and build awareness for the supernatural-friendly community Blackwell Corp is planning. A sanctuary designed to provide protection against hunters. But that also makes it a target.” I exhale slowly. “That’s why we need a coordinated security effort.”

Theo nods, but his expression remains unreadable. “And you think Blackwell Corp should be the one calling the shots?”

Adrian, who has been quietly listening, finally speaks. The low rumble of his voice sends an involuntary shiver through me. “I think Blackwell Corp offers something your pack doesn’t—resources and an infrastructure designed to handle large-scale threats outside of pack politics.” His tone is cool, impassive, but I catch the slight tension in his jaw.

Theo’s shoulders straighten imperceptibly. “Pack politics are exactly why we’ve survived this long. We protect our own.”

Adrian leans forward, clasping his hands on the table. “And yet the threat keeps growing.”

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