The Werewolf Prince and I (10 page)

Domenico walked past her without even sparing Misty a glance.

Misty froze.

Beside her, Janice Rudely said in a pseudo-whisper, “Did you really think he’d give you the time of the day just because he had his limousine take you home?”

That happened yesterday, too, but now it seemed forever had already passed since then. Misty bit her lip hard to stop it from trembling. Yesterday, everyone in
Ze Morgue,
her private nickname for the company’s Administration Department, had heard Misty – their sole intern and most despised copy editor - being called to the CEO’s office. Yesterday, everyone had seen her helped inside Domenico’s limousine by his chauffeur after office hours. And yesterday, only she knew that Domenico Moretti had asked her – Misty Wall, the wimpiest nobody in the world – to marry him.

But right now, everything that had taken place yesterday felt like a nightmare, a prank that would leave her the laughingstock of the company.

Had she only imagined Domenico Moretti turning into a werewolf in his office?

Had she only imagined being attacked by other werewolves last night and Domenico rescuing her?

Had she only imagined being finger-fucked into an orgasm by Domenico as he demanded that she marry him?

“Are you listening to me?”

Janice’s hissing voice snapped Misty out of her misery. She looked up – she had to since the other woman was several inches taller than Misty. Today, Janice wore a skintight black dress that fell below her knees but revealed her back completely. It was an inappropriate choice for someone who worked as the head receptionist of
Ze Morgue,
but entirely unsurprising for someone whom Misty had caught paying homage to William Grant, a balding executive from 10/F who also happened to be married. Janice had been on her knees while William had his pants around his ankles. It was the ungodliest sight Misty had seen in her entire life.

“I’m sorry,” Misty mumbled, still depressed at how Domenico Moretti had completely ignored her. “I didn’t quite catch---”

“Did you tell him, you bitch?”

She blinked. “Tell who what?”

Janice’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t give me that fucking wide-eyed look. I never did buy your Miss Goody Two Shoes image. Were you called by Mr. Moretti because you told him what you saw?”

Finally understanding what Janice was worried about, Misty shook her head. “I didn’t.”

Distrust contorted Janice’s beautiful face. “Then why were you with him for so long?”

“I…” She couldn’t make herself say the words, not after how Domenico didn’t even seem to remember having asked Misty to marry him.

“Don’t mess with me, you little bitch. If you didn’t tell him, then why were you called to his office?”

Unable to help it, Misty’s eyes sought Domenico. He had his back to her now, talking to his chauffeur-slash-bodyguard Matteo Barrios, a stocky sandy-haired man with a rugged unsmiling face. Misty colored, recalling how she had cried so hard in his limousine when she had thought Domenico had just been playing around with her. And here she was again, about to do the same thing and for the same fracking reason. Fracking was Misty’s version of the F-bomb and her way of avoiding accidentally cursing in front of her younger siblings. But in her current state of depression, she had a nasty feeling that words like ‘frack’ would soon be inadequate for expressing her bitterness.

“Oh my God,” Janice said loudly behind her.

Misty turned around in shock.

“Are you serious?” Janice started to laugh.

“Wh-what do you mean?” she stammered out even though some part of her already knew what the other woman was about to say.

“You have a crush on Domenico Moretti.” Janice’s voice rose. “I can’t believe it. Our little Misty Wall has the hots for---”

“Stop it!” Misty cut the other woman off shakily, tensing as she felt people around her turning to look at them speculatively. She could feel them staring and, worse, laughing at her.

“Or what?” Janice challenged. Her voice dropped a notch lower, oozing feigned sympathy as she spoke. “Oh, honey, be reasonable, why don’t you? Whatever reason you’ve been called – it won’t make the impossible possible. Domenico Moretti would never take someone like you to bed.”

Janice took a step closer to her, and Misty instinctively stepped back before she could think about it. At the triumph flashing in Janice’s hard blue eyes, Misty wished she could undo what she did and stand her ground instead.

“Maybe you think you can be the next Kim Kardashian with those curves,” Janice said as she dealt Misty’s figure a disparaging glance. “But trust me. You’re part of a dying breed and only losers would think you’re not fat.”

Before she could stop herself, Misty shot back, “I may be fat in your eyes, but at least I don’t need to have an affair with a dirty old man to earn a living.”

For a moment, Misty and Janice gaped at each other in shock. Misty had uttered the words in a soft voice, low enough for only Janice to hear but they both knew that didn’t matter.

Visibly recovering, Janice snarled, “Why, you---”

Misty’s courage abruptly deserted her at the sight of murderous wrath on Janice’s face. She half-ran toward the elevators, knowing that she had just made an enemy for life.

Oh, shick.

This was not what she had envisioned today would bring at all.

Over six hours later, Misty was already counting the minutes before she could leave for work and hand in her resignation letter. It was official. It was impossible for her to work for Moretti Inc. any longer. If near poverty hadn’t made Misty the practical sort, then she would have just upped and left without looking back the moment Janice had declared war on her, sniping at Misty for everyone to hear every chance she got.

But Misty
was
the practical sort and her mind told her it would be stupid to give up her daily wages just to save her pride. As she had learned early in life, pride
never
gave one a full stomach or a warm and comfortable bed to enjoy at night.

Quietly making her way to the photocopying machines at the corner of the office, Misty unintentionally overheard two clerks talking while enjoying a cigarette break near the windows.

“No kidding? On her knees, you said?” the brunette with a mole in her cheek said.

“She saw it with her own two eyes,” the blond woman whom Misty vaguely recalled as Hannah answered feelingly with an emphatic nod. “Misty Wall was giving William Grant a blowjob and he hated it---”

“What did you say?” Misty whispered, feeling herself go pale.

The two women turned to her in shock and dismay, but Hannah suddenly lifted her chin and said, “I’m not saying anything that’s not true.”

“But it isn’t true!” she cried out.

“Of course you’d say that. But I heard it directly from Janice and William themselves.” Hannah tossed her a scornful glance. “Of all the men in this company, you’re such a jealous little slut you had to try taking William away from Janice.”

“He’s married, for God’s sake!”

Hannah turned her back on Misty. “Save your innocent act for someone who’s stupid enough to think it’s real.”

Bingo!

Domenico pressed the button on the remote control that would have his paneled wall slide back into place, hiding the rows of CCTV monitors he used to observe everything that went on in his company.

He walked swiftly out of his office, knowing he only had minutes to spare for his plan to take effect. His fists clenched involuntarily as he recalled Misty’s face when he had walked past without sparing her a glance and he had to physically struggle in holding back his temper when he recalled the look of pain on her face upon realizing she had become the target of Janice Rudely’s vicious skills in rumor making.

The elevator chimed out its usual alarm as it reached 4/F and he stepped out. He felt a brief moment of triumph when he caught sight of Janice Rudely about to walk past but making a quick about-turn upon seeing him.

She was indeed a beautiful woman, but Domenico did not feel an ounce of desire for her. The features of her face were too hard for his taste, and he knew in a few years it would harden even more until Janice would be but a skull of her former beauty, made ugly by her obsession at extracting pleasure from hurting others.

Janice’s smile was wary, but her voice was absolutely polite and efficient when she spoke. “Good afternoon, Mr. Moretti. I’m Janice Rudely, your receptionist for the Administration Department. Is there anything I may do for you?”

Domenico flashed a smile, knowing exactly how the sight of it would affect her. He was not a vain man, but he had no fondness for false humility either. He knew what he looked like, knew why the media loved to call him “Italy’s dark-haired Adonis” after hearing one of his ex-mistresses refer to him as such in a paid interview. And for most of his life, Domenico had never hesitated to use his looks whenever it suited him to do so.

Janice’s lips parted, and his sense of smell, heightened as it was by his Lyccan blood, immediately detected the wave of lust coming from the woman standing before him. Domenico kept still as Janice wetted her lips, her eyes straying down and stopping at his cock.

“What can I do for you, sir?” she asked again, huskily.

“I need privacy.”

Janice’s nipples were now pebble hard, and they poked against the thin cotton of her black dress, begging for attention. “For what, sir?”

“I need to talk to Misty Wall privately. I know she’s in the ladies restroom at the end of the hall. I need you to keep everyone away. Will you do that for me, Janice?”

At his words, fury wiped away the lust from Janice’s expression but her voice was perfectly bland as she answered, “Of course, Mr. Moretti.”

“Thank you.”

He walked away after that without looking back. Domenico reached the ladies’ room in seconds, and he immediately pressed a finger to his lips when the three women standing in front of the mirror gaped at him.

“Not a word to anyone please,” he whispered even though he knew they wouldn’t do as he said. “I need to talk to Misty alone.” At the mood Misty was in, he knew that she wouldn’t hear a word of what he was saying, would be too busy crying to be aware of anything else except her hurt.

Soon, darling, I’ll make it up to you,
Domenico promised to both Misty and himself.

But for now---

Domenico kept smiling as the women filed past him nervously, the excitement on their faces telling him that they were about to spread the word of his presence and what they thought it had to do with Misty Wall.

As he waited patiently for Misty to come out, Domenico thought that Janice would have probably shredded Misty’s reputation to pieces by now. It didn’t matter. He would take care of Janice soon enough.

Finally, Misty’s door creaked open. At the sight of her red-rimmed eyes, Domenico couldn’t help letting out a little growl of anger. He had expected her to cry. Of course he had. But what he had not expected was how affected he would be at the sight of it.

She looked up at the sound, gasping when she saw him. “What are you---”

Domenico was on her in a flash, holding her still before bending down to kiss her.

“Are you cra---mmph!” Her words were lost in his mouth.

Misty struggled as hard as she could, but with every second that passed, she could feel her resistance waning and her body yielding bit by bit to Domenico’s drugging passion. When Domenico’s tongue swept inside her mouth, she succumbed to his touch with a little whimper that had Domenico growling and kissing her harder. His kiss was even better than she remembered, sweeter and hotter at the same time. The taste and feel of it made Misty’s head float.