“You’re lucky you’re not close enough to strangle.”
“Why do you think I’m telling you over the phone?”
Kieran pushed out of his seat, taking the cordless with him. “The pack can’t expect me to just select some random woman to tie my life to.”
“Hardly random when you’ve known most of the candidates since you were a cub.”
Niall might have a point, but he was certain his fated mate was not among his own pack. Crossing the length of his office, he rested an arm against the wide windows and looked down at the bustling Manhattan streets.
“You know I won’t pick one of them.”
Niall was silent. Never a good sign when it came to the gregarious wolf.
“Niall.”
“You need to pick someone,” he replied. “And you know it. The pack needs the stability. The younger wolves are picking up on the tension. It’s not a good situation.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Are you?” The doubt in Niall’s voice was palpable. “Since when?”
“You might be surprised,” he growled.
“I hope I am. Look, I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes. Want to grab some beers before the opening tonight?”
“Can’t,” he replied. “Busy.”
“All right. I’ll find you there then.” The call disconnected without any farewell.
Kieran’s arm dropped to his side. He was used to fending off the attention of many of the single women in the pack but it sounded like this year would be an extra level of hell. It might also be more than Chloe signed on for. Not only would she have to deal with prejudiced wolves taking issue with her witch blood, but she’d also be faced with women envious of her position as his lover.
“She can handle herself,” he said aloud. She was his employee not a true girlfriend. What did he care if her time at the retreat was uncomfortable? All that mattered was success.
Besides, if their charade was discovered tonight then worrying about the retreat would be a moot point anyway.
Returning the phone to its cradle, he grabbed his suit jacket and headed out of the office.
“Going to lunch,” he told his secretary. Maybe a change of scenery would do him good.
At the very least it should help get a certain blonde-haired witch off his mind.
Chapter Five
It was dark when she entered the penthouse. A last minute client interview had carried her later into the evening than she’d anticipated. Now she’d have to rush to get ready. Thank God she had a little magic on her side.
“I was starting to think you weren’t going to make it.”
Drawn by the silken voice, Chloe stepped into the sprawling living room to find Kieran relaxing on his sofa. His arms were draped over the back of the couch as he watched her.
“Work ran late,” she replied.
“Some lovelorn swain having issues?”
“No,” she said, stepping farther into the room. “I had a client interested in our platinum package.”
He arched a questioning brow.
“The platinum package includes a decade of access to our online database of potential matches. Thirty hand-picked dates over the course of the access period, managed by yours truly, and relationship coaching as needed. Plus their profile gets pushed to the top of the search page. All things you would know had you come to the agency looking for your mate rather than a lie.”
“So far the lie has been a hell of a lot more fun,” he replied, his voice decadent.
“How long do I have to get ready?” she demanded.
He glanced at his watch. “Is an hour long enough?”
“Works for me. I’ll go get started.”
“Chloe.” His voice froze her on her way out of the room. “I left a little something in your room. I hope you like it.”
As she glanced back at the man in the shadowed room, an awareness tingled through her, which she wished she could ignore.
Without replying, she left Kieran and ran up the stairs two at a time.
Focus on the job, she chided herself, trying not to remember the feeling of his mouth on hers. Whatever he left for her could surely be ignored as easily as her wayward desires.
Except once she stepped into her room, her resolve cracked.
There, lying across her bed, was a breathtakingly beautiful dress. With a worshipful hand, she reached for the ribbon and lace concoction—so light it felt like a dream in her hands. Catching sight of the designer tag caused a ripple of vertigo to flow through her. No doubt this single item cost more than most of her wardrobe put together.
Unable to stop herself, she tugged her dress shirt over her head and stepped out of the pencil skirt before reaching for the little black dress. It floated around her body, fitting her to perfection. She wondered where he’d found a designer dress large enough for a real woman and not a slender model. Then again, a man like him probably had little trouble finding exactly what he wanted, when he wanted it.