Home>>read Her Billionaire, Her Wolf free online

Her Billionaire, Her Wolf(21)

By:Aimelie Aames


Like a maple leaf.

...but she finally managed to light a match and set the letter on fire.

She held it out from her, watching the orange flames eat into the paper while it sent up blue and black smoke.

Sara had never like Mr. Jenkins or the way he leered at her. But she would have never wished him such a horrible end.

And, she knew, all of it was her fault. She had done what was demanded of her and been rewarded handsomely.

She also knew that Mr. Johnson had the right of it, after all.

A monster had decided to write her a letter of congratulations. Only it had been in need of ink....

The flames gobbled up the paper and its horrid words hungrily before she finally let the blackening remnants fall into the sink’s basin.

Sara swallowed, wondering if she would be questioned by the police. She barely had time for the thought when she screamed out loud as Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony blared from behind her.

Turning around, she saw the cellphone Flair had given her dancing as it buzzed upon the nightstand.

Wishing only to make it stop and hoping that it had not drawn anyone’s attention, Sara picked it up.

A young man’s voice floated out of the cellphone.

“...passport and your toothbrush,” she heard him say.

“Uh, hello,” she said as she held the phone to her ear.

“Miss Renardine, I was just saying that I’ve got orders to come pick you up in half an hour. You’re going to need your passport,” he replied, then added, “I was just kidding about the toothbrush.”

Sara swallowed dryly. Anything to get her out of the hotel and avoid whatever questions the police might want to ask her seemed like a very good idea just then.

“But I don’t have a passport,” she said.

“Ok...well, bring whatever ID you’ve got. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

The phone went dead in her hands.

None of this is right. I mean, the interview wasn’t really like that. It was late..sure. But that was it. A stupid nightmare is what has me so spooked.

As she set the cellphone down Sara remembered the watch that needed a new battery. The one that had stopped working a couple months earlier.

But, if she thought about it...really thought about it, it was not just two months ago. It had stopped working the day of her interview.

She rummaged in the small drawer of her nightstand and then she had it in her hands and felt her blood run cold. The tiny hands had stopped at the stroke of midnight. Which must have been the hour that her so-called interview had begun.

But it wasn’t really like that. I’m just remembering a bad dream...not real.

She repeated these thoughts to herself, knowing full well that a man had been murdered last night. That he had already been lying there, dismembered, as she came back to her squalid room the evening before.

Sara walked softly across the room, wondering if the police were still there. She pulled the yellowed curtain slowly to one side and saw someone standing across the street leaning casually against a streetlight post.

He was staring straight back at Sara from the street down below. She startled as he nodded at her and she dropped the curtain to fall back into place. It was the homeless man from the previous day.

What in the hell is going on..?

Unable to help herself, Sara slowly pulled the curtain aside once more, but the homeless man was no longer there.

But I already knew that, didn’t I?

Taking hold of herself, Sara decided that none of it mattered. She was going to see him again.

Thirty minutes. She spun into action as she readied herself once more to see those extraordinary amber eyes. Only this time, she had his name.

Brazier Abraxis, the enigmatic billionaire, and he wanted her. Now.

Despite everything, despite the horror spooling out two floors under her feet, Sara smiled.



~~~



Flair held the door for Sara.

They had just pulled up to the airport after an uneventful ride from Sara’s hotel.

Any pretext at keeping her exact address hidden from Flair disappeared as he had somehow found her in the alley behind her hotel.

Sara had slipped through the crowd that still lingered at the foot of the hotel’s stairs and instead of trying to force her way to the front entrance, she turned in the opposite direction and away from the police to go out through the back, past the building’s garbage bins and into the alley beyond.

The black sedan that had carried her home the previous evening was already there, its motor grumbling low and smooth.

As they rolled away from the hotel, Sara had asked Flair why she would need something like a passport for that day. His reply was that he did not know anything for certain, except that their destination was the airport.

Sara had fallen silent after that.

And then, as she climbed out of the sedan’s cosy leather interior, she found herself standing not in front of the airport’s main entrance leading to its various boarding gates, but rather at the far end where she saw only a few cargo vans and no passengers whatsoever.