To Love a Shifter: A Paranormal Romance Boxed Set (10 page)

          Everyone
stopped moving as Domenico Moretti strode into the expansive lobby of his flagship property. At seven-forty in the morning, most of the employees of Moretti Inc. were still milling around the marble-floored reception area, having twenty minutes to spare before work for the day officially started.

The sight of Domenico Moretti coming through the glass doors was unexpected-- he almost always used his private elevator from the parking lot. However, that wasn’t the reason men and women alike dropped whatever they were doing and gawked at him.

Domenico Moretti commanded the attention of people with his presence alone. He wore his arrogance like a second skin – a man unapologetically aware of who he was and what he was capable of. Domenico was tall, dark, and lean, and his face -- although proud and beautiful -- was more a warrior’s face than that of a model’s. Every inch of him was pure lethal muscle, and despite being covered in an expensive Italian suit, there was no hiding his body’s impressive strength.

Having just stepped out of the restroom, Misty came to a halt when she realized what the awed silence was all about. Her heart started to race as he drew nearer, his aura of sexual magnetism getting stronger and more irresistible as his long, powerful stride took him closer to her.

She crossed her arms over her chest, ashamed at how easily her body responded to his presence alone. Yesterday, Domenico had promised that he would prove to everyone he was sexually infatuated with her. Had that moment finally come?

When he was inches away from her, she held her breath.

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 like forever had already passed since then. Misty bit her lip hard to stop it from trembling. Yesterday, everyone in
Ze Morgue
had heard about Misty – the 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.

That was yesterday. 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. Misty looked up – she had to since the other woman was several inches taller than her. 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 Misty had caught paying ‘homage’ to William Grant, a balding executive from 10/F who 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 hard she had cried in the 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. 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 were 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.

Six long, dragging hours later, Misty was counting the minutes before she could leave 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 her the practical sort, she would have just upped and left without looking back the moment Janice had declared war on Misty, sniping at her for everyone to hear every chance she got.

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 in 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 on her cheek said.

“She saw it with her own two eyes,” the blonde 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 to take 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 that made the panel hiding the CCTV monitors slide back into place.

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 right past her like she didn’t exist in the morning, and he physically struggled to hold 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 rumor mongering.

The elevator chimed its usual alarm as it reached 4/F and he stepped out with a neutral look on his face. He felt a brief moment of triumph when he caught sight of Janice Rudely about to walk past but making a quick turnaround 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 they would harden even more until Janice would be but a shadow of her former beauty, made ugly by her obsession with extracting pleasure from hurting others.

Janice’s smile was wary, but her voice was absolutely polite 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 her 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 wet her lips, her eyes straying down and stopping at the bulge in his pants.

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