Page 46 of Claimed By the Werewolf Boss
Cheyenne
Epilogue
Six Months Later
“Cheyenne,” Valentino shouts from downstairs.
I can’t listen. I’m so close to being done with this new manuscript. I’m so close. The words are flowing right out of me, and if I stop now, I might not ever be able to pull them back. We can’t have that. My readers are dying for this book.
I’m dying for this book, more importantly.
Something about it has just come so naturally.
Maybe it’s all that inspiration I’ve been getting. Not just the mind-blowingsex, but now when I’m not sure if a murder plot or fight scene makes sense, I’ve got a team of guys happy to tell me how to make it more real. Whether it’s bones breaking or blood gushing, Ugo and Dino are always eager to share what they know with me.
“Honey, Junelle is here,” Valentino says, leaning against the door to our shared office.
In a short time, I’ve littered this space with so much character art. If anything, being given free rein has made me commission even more art. It’s so heartwarming and grounding seeing two of my imaginary idiots fucking when I’m having a bad day. I keep all the naughty art on my side of the room so Valentino can still have his calls and work without scandalising anyone, but big and proud just behind his chair is a movie poster size print out ofHis Ballerina’s Secret.
I cried when I first saw it. It never occurred to me before that I could treat my covers that way, with such reverence. But seeing that on a random evening after a particularly stressful day in the classroom had me ugly crying in an instant. I suddenly felt like a professional, and not just a hobbyist.
“Baby,” Valentino whispers in my ear. He pulls my wheelie chair away from the desk and turns me to face him. “Your best friend is downstairs to see you. You’re having dinner, remember?”
“Just—”
“No. You’ve spent all day in here. It’s time to stretch and rest your eyes and eat something that isn’t covered in chocolate.”
“But those were fruit,” I argue, standing with a groan.
“Chocolate-covered raisins are not fruit.”
“Who’s got the science degree here?” I put my hands on my hips.
He snorts and then kisses my forehead before he leads me out of the room. As if passing a magical barrier, when I leave the office, I suddenly race to get down the stairs in Valentino’s house. Well, our house now. My name is also on the deed.
Homeownership might be as big of a surprise as the werewolf thing, honestly. Who would have thought?
“And here we see a gremlin, emerging from her cave to search for nourishment and companionship.” Andrea announces my arrival like I’m some chipmunk in a nature documentary. He and Junelle burst into laughter when I stick my tongue out at both of them. Junelle quickly pulls me into a hug.
They’ve been on their second honeymoon, and despite being back for a couple months, we’ve all been too swamped with work to get together. It’s amazing that even though we live in the same city, it’s so easy to go ages without seeing our family. Valentino’smade a whole lasagne for the occasion, the delicious smell wafting through the hallways as we walk to the kitchen.
“Wine?” I ask.
“None for me,” Junelle says.
“Yeah, I’ve got to get up early tomorrow.” Andrea pulls out a barstool from the counter. “I don’t want to pick up Ezio with wine sweats. He’s gonna be fucking feral tomorrow as it is.”
“How long has he been away?” I ask, pouring glasses for me and Valentino.
He takes his glass and lightly taps it against mine before he takes a drink. Plates are warming in the oven, and we’re just waiting for the lasagne to rest before we cut into it. He didn’t even bother making anything else. Apparently, it’s just that good.
“Twelve months now?” Andrea guesses.
“It’s a damn miracle we’re still running. Just proof we need to get someone to help him.” Valentino sighs. Whoever Ezio is, he’s got my mate in knots about this upcoming team expansion. I don’t know why he wouldn’t want more help. It’s wildly insecure that not a single other person in the Benetti Crime Family knows the ciphers and codes to run the finances. “They don’t have to like each other, they just need to worktogether.”
“Have you decided if you’re going to do another year at school?” Junelle asks, changing the subject.
This launches me into a huge, long discussion about the pros and cons of leaving my full-time job. Valentino has listened to me having this same conversation with myself over and over again since the fall semester started. It’s only got more stressful as we near midterms.
