Page 87 of Fated to the Wolf Billionaire

I stood and opened the door, turning off the steam from the panel next to the shower door.

“So what you’re telling me is, I’ve still got bupkis?”

“No, not at all. The more you know, the better. But we don’t have to figure it all out in one day.” He reached up and swiped away a piece of stray hair that was plastered to my sticky cheek.

He was right, but it was still frustrating. I could feel the dark tug in my chest to unleash my power to vent that frustration, but I shoved it down. Time to let it go, be back in the here and now.

“How did the meeting with the vampire go?”

His expression was hard to read. “It took a little longer than I expected because Carmine’s right-hand man, Darick, came instead of an underling.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I set the book down on the counter and twined my fingers with his. Leaning against his chest helped settle the itch to wreak havoc, and the power begrudgingly quieted inside me. A quick glance down showed the blue slowly receding back down toward my fingertips.

“It’s an unexpected thing, which is usually bad when dealing with vampires. The best I can say is he’s suspicious and taking my sudden appearance seriously.”

“Well, you said he’s old and powerful. It makes sense that he got that way by being cautious.”

“Very observant, and accurate.” He kissed me on the forehead, releasing my hands to wrap his arms around my shoulders. “He offered us a chef’s table at his most upscale restaurant, right in the heart of the Strip. I’m afraid we’ll have to go, or else we risk offending him. I could go alone, if that makes you uncomfortable.”

I leaned back, checking his expression. No judgment, just giving me an option. “No, I’ll come. We’re in this together. Also, I’ve never had dinner at a chef’s table. It soundsfancy.” I couldn’t help my grin as I said it.

This might all be old hat to Reed, who clearly was used to the finer things in life, but the one and only time I’d been to Vegas, it was a drunken blur for a friend’s bachelorette party. There had been male strippers, too much alcohol, slots, and wicked hangovers for the rest of the bridal party on the flight back to Philly a mere forty-eight hours after we arrived.

There wasn’t anythingupscaleabout the experience. Way too much puking when half the bridal party couldn’t handle their liquor.

“What’s the dress code?” I pulled back, already mentally rummaging through my suitcase. I had one nice dress I’d worn to my client’s wedding, but it still might not be suitable.

“Why don’t you let me surprise you? I haven’t had much chance to spoil you yet, and I’d like to.” The way he looked me up and down had me shivering and imagining him peeling me out of whatever he picked at the end of the night.

Yes, please.

“Deal.”

“Good. We’ll leave at seven.”

FORTY-TWO

Reed

The things I’d arranged for Fiona had arrived and been delivered to our room, and she’d promptly kicked me out so she could, and I quote, “take an everything shower.” I’d had the shopper service send five options for her to choose from that would be appropriate to the venue, but she hadn’t let me peek at the boxes before whisking them away.

I didn’t know what that meant, but I’d spent the last three hours in the living room, catching up on business, and a quick ten-minute foray into the bedroom for my suitcase to change for dinner. Now that I had nothing left to do except wait for the big reveal, I couldn’t lie and say I wasn’t curious.

She was beautiful to me in nothing, or on sleepy-eyed mornings in a rumpled tee shirt. But the personal shopper service I used was top-notch, and I couldn’t wait to see what she’d been up to for so long.Color me curious.

I heard her before I saw her, the soft click of the doorknob twisting putting me on full alert. But still, I wasn’t prepared for the exquisite sight that greeted me when she stepped into the living room.

Her hair was styled in big, luxurious curls I wanted to sink my fingers into, her mouth painted red, dark smudged eyeliner framing her gorgeously different eyes. And the dress… It was barely fit for public consumption, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to rage in jealousy or preen like a damn fool that she was mine.

It was silver, short, and absolutely on brand for Vegas. The lining looked nude, her breasts and waist covered only by shining silver beadwork and bits of mirrored metal attached to the nude-colored backing, making her sparkle with every step she took toward me. The skirt—if you could call it that—barely covered her pussy, a sparkling fringe of beads and a few feathers that showed off a whole hell of a lot of skin with every step.

When she reached the end of the hall, just a few feet away, she did a little twirl, making the fringed skirt swing out, showing me her nearly bare back—the mate marks I wanted to pepper with kisses were framed beautifully—and the bottom of her delectable ass in the process.

No bra, her perfect breasts barely contained by the heart-shaped top and the itty-bitty straps that crisscrossed her nearly bare back.

Good Goddess, she was trying to kill me.

“Are you trying to make me ravish you on the table in front of the staff? Because I have to warn you, I don’t share, and voyeurism isn’t my thing. You belong to me, andonlyme.”

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