To Love a Shifter: A Paranormal Romance Boxed Set (8 page)

If this is a work of fiction, all it would take is one glimpse of my plain self and Mr. Moretti would want to jump my bones so badly he’d chain me to his desk and make love to me over and over even before the first chapter ends. He’d beg me to move in with him and marry him, too, though I’m not fussy with the sequence of events.

I’m sure those things take place occasionally in real life, too, but let’s just say that it’s my luck to get that one billionaire in the world who also happens to be a cold-blooded werewolf. One that has an unusually high sex drive, but still, Domenico Moretti singled me out because he needs me for practical reasons, not just because I’m the only one who can give him a hard-on. I can’t reasonably expect to keep Domenico Moretti interested with me forever, and I don’t. I am tired of being boring, of being plain, of being wimpy. I want everyone to look at me with new eyes.

I lift my chin, adding recklessly, “I want all this in writing, and I need you to show proof of your, err--” Gah! Why are the words so hard to say?

“My sexual infatuation?” Mr. Moretti says innocently, but his green eyes are gleaming.

“Yes. I need proof of, er,
that
, every day.” I try to sound nonchalant, but it’s obvious I fail dismally when his eyes just gleam more brightly.

Now please tell me you think it’s a wonderful joke and we can all just forget my temporary moment of insanity.
I steal a look at his profile, but his face is expressionless for once.

“Interesting,” he says finally.

That’s it?

“Are you still feeling dizzy?”

His question throws me off, and I stammer, “I’m fine.”

Domenico stuns me even more when he gently lifts me off his lap and assists me to my feet. He checks his watch, murmuring, “It’s late now. I’ll have Matteo send you home. You’ve given me food for thought. I must think about it tonight.”

He nods dismissively. “Until tomorrow.”

In minutes, I’m walked out of his office, escorted by his secretary all the way to the lobby, and bundled into his limousine past the gawking eyes of the other employees. I’m so stunned I only manage one quick, panicky look at the 19th floor windows of Moretti Inc. before the chauffeur slams the door shut.

What did I do? Did he change his mind? Worse – have I turned him off?

On and on the questions circle around my mind, but I’m unable to answer them. I suppose my life is back to being safe and boring. God has answered my prayers –
again.

Oh, God. Why do you listen to me at the worst possible moments?

I bite my lip, knowing I’m being unfair. I am such a whiner it’s embarrassing.

I didn’t even get to call him Domenico. The thought depresses me even more, and I bend my head down, covering my mouth so that Mr. Moretti’s driver doesn’t hear me crying.

          Domenico waited
patiently, the shadows serving as his cloak once more. It was but a matter of time until Misty would come out of her house for a rare jog. From the report, he had learned that she used jogging to clear her mind, and he himself had given her a lot to think about.

He had to admit that Misty had given him a lot to think about, too. Her condition had surprised him. He had already foreseen her dismissal of his wealth – which was impressive albeit impractical – but had still expected a request that was material in nature. Scholarship for her siblings, a donation to her favorite charity – he had expected everything but what Misty asked for in the end.

Make out with her in public? Every day? Was his chosen bride an exhibitionist at heart? It was an exquisite thought.

Domenico’s smile glinted in the darkness when he remembered the look of shock and confusion on her face when he so unexpectedly sent her home. But he could not help it. In the regretfully short time he had spent alone with Misty, two things had become irrefutably clear.

First, she was a joy to play with.

Second, he actually had fun playing with her.

Fun was a word he had deliberately made himself forget, yet somehow she had gotten under his skin. She had made Domenico have fun even though he had sworn so many years ago never to experience that traitorous aspect of life ever again.

Fun.

He supposed he could live with it again – especially if it meant he would be able to play with her constantly. Domenico knew it was cruel of him to tease her. He was aware of how absurdly abundant Misty’s insecurities were, but he couldn’t help it. He would make it up to her, Domenico told himself. But for now --

He allowed himself another smile. She was a delight to toy with, and surely she would be more so when they finally had the chance to play the same games in bed. Or anywhere else he would feel the urge to undress Misty’s lovely body, drown himself in her shy but addictive kisses, fondle her wondrously generous breasts, and sink his cock into her heat.

He savored the thought, getting hard just by imagining the moans and whimpers that would come out of her lovely mouth as she pleaded for more of his cock. He wondered how it would feel to have his cock inside that mouth. He imagined Misty’s tiny pink tongue swirling around its head with an inexperience that would be a sensual torture in itself. Then he would sink his fingers in her hair, pulling her head closer so she would learn to take more of him in--

Shit.
Domenico changed, using the lightning-quick transformation to kill his erection. Now was not the time to let his cock rule his brain, not when danger lurked so close.

Red-eyed and sniffing, I mumble my thanks to Domenico Moretti’s chauffeur as I step out of the limousine. The twins are sitting on the sidewalk, curiosity written all over their faces.

“Are you crying?” Kelly gasps, looking down at me in horror because she’s my sister and she’s also a couple of inches taller than me. 

“Sweet ride,” Kevin says at the same time then adds belatedly, “I mean, are you okay, Misty?”

“I’m fine,” I say. “I, umm, just got sacked.” I know it’s not true, but I’ve just made up my mind. I’m going to resign tomorrow. I don’t think I can last another day at Moretti Inc. after this. I’ll always remember being made a fool by its CEO, the fracking jerk.

I pretend to brush my hair off my face so I can wipe the tears away from my eyes.

We all pretend my ploy is working.

When I’d recovered sufficiently, I say brightly, “So, why are you two--” My voice trails off as I remember the answer to my question.

“What are we going to do?” Kelly starts biting her fingernails, which currently flaunt the colors of Brazil.

She’s the most emotional of all of us. It’s another reason I think the twins are Italian. And Kelly totally loves pizza, too, so there.

Squeezing her shoulder reassuringly, I say, “We won’t let her adopt another one so don’t worry, okay?”

Kevin snorts. “I hate to pi--rain on your parade, but how exactly do you plan on stopping Nanette from doing that?”

I belatedly notice he’s already in his nurse uniform. “Let me worry about that. You should just go to class. You can’t afford to be late anymore.” Kevin works in a nearby grocery during the day, but lately he’s gotten in trouble in school because of the hours he’s been spending working overtime.

“Don’t worry about it. I got this all figured out.”
Not.
But they don’t have to know that.

Kevin’s eyes bore through mine. “You haven’t a clue about what you’re going to do, have you?”

“Of course I have. I’ve decided that…” Inspiration strikes and I finish winningly, “I’ve decided that we are going to prove to Nanette she won’t get away with this anymore. We’re going to
ignore
the baby and let her do all the work until she gives up and returns it to Social Services.”

The more I think about it, the more sense it makes. “Yes, that’s it. We’ll ignore the baby.”

Kevin’s flabbergasted. And that’s an understatement. He rakes a hand through his rather longish dark brown hair, exclaiming, “That’s it?”

“Trust me,” I insist. “It’s going to work.”

“It’s not going to work,” Kevin bursts out. “And you know why? It’s because you’re a sucker for emotional blackmail!”

Fifteen minutes later, I’m 99% sure Kevin was right.

All six of us are in the living room, which actually doubles as the dining room as well. If you have to be technical about it, the area also serves as the kitchen. Andy is crying, and Nicole’s trying to hush him. Kelly’s lips are trembling but she does her best to distract herself by staring at the TV, which is tuned to SpongeBob.

The wails of the infant continue to punish me. It’s been fifteen minutes since the baby started crying. Kevin doesn’t stop glaring at me, his way of keeping me glued to my seat.

Nanette doesn’t say a word, but the smug look on her face says it all.

If you give the baby back to Social Services, do you really think his life is going to get better?

Do you think people would pick him up the moment he starts crying?

Can your conscience bear turning your back on this poor little soul?

The baby’s cries turn hoarse.

I lose the battle of wills.

“I’m sorry!” I run to the crib at the opposite side of the room, tears in my eyes.

I am such a wimp.

I cradle the baby close, making soft and soothing noises while ignoring Kevin’s heartfelt groan at the same time.

“I’m off to Social Services.” Nanette’s almost singing her words out. There’s even a spring to her step, which is saying a lot since she’s gained almost a hundred pounds since she adopted me fourteen years ago. She fluffs her hair, cut in a stylish bob that would have looked pretty if she was two decades younger. “I may be home late so do save me something for dinner, okay?”

When the door closes behind her, Kevin growls, “
Misty
.”

“I know,” I say miserably. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.” I look down at the baby, and for a moment I just see rows and rows of numbers instead of his cute face. Baby food
never
comes cheap, and you can’t put infants on a South Beach diet. Diapers also cost a fortune, but infants don’t get potty-trained until they’re maybe two or three.

I want to kick myself. Now I feel like such an idiot for asking Domenico Moretti for a public performance of his virility when I could have had access to his bank account. Would I have changed my mind if I knew this would happen? If I’m honest with myself –
no.
Shick.

When Kevin leaves for class, we divide baby care duties among the three of us while Andy plays with the baby. I frown, momentarily distracted. I’ve forgotten to ask Nanette about the baby’s name.

“I’m home first so I’ll care for the baby until Kelly gets back,” Nicole says.

“Have Andy help you when you have homework to do,” I say.

We don’t even include Nanette in the equation. Been there, done that, and I have the faint green line on Andy’s forehead as a painful reminder of why trusting Nanette to look after a baby is a huge mistake. Andy had his first stitches when he was just 18 months old.

Everyone says I’m so nice, but they don’t know that sometimes I hate Nanette so much I want to kill her.

It’s almost eleven when I get everyone settled down. With Kevin back home, I feel it’s safe enough to leave for a quick jog around the block.

“Can’t you just go for a run tomorrow? It’s kind of late,” Kevin says while I carefully lay the baby down on his bed. Since he’s studying for his midterms tomorrow, I don’t feel like I’m imposing when I temporarily delegate babysitting duties to him.

“You know I’m not a morning person.” Bending down to make sure my shoelaces are tightly knotted, I study my sneakers morosely for a second. They're worse for the wear, and I’ve promised myself a new pair next month. But with the baby? It would be more practical
not
to jog next month unless I want to risk coming back home in my socks.
This
Adidas baby of mine is already on its last leg. 

Kevin sighs. “Stun gun?”

I pat my pocket. “Ready and loaded.”

He rolls his eyes. “Take care. I’ll call you every five minutes.”

Kevin is true to his word, like he always is since he got out of rehab. He rings every five minutes. I reject the call and ring him back. You can’t be too safe in this neighborhood.

Jog
is really the most accurate term to describe what I do when I want to organize my thoughts. I don’t run. I hate running. I’m no athlete, and I tire so easily I’m already catching my breath after one flight of stairs. Kelly’s the athlete in the family. Okay, she’s the cheerleader, but I say that’s a sport since it’s featured on ESPN.

I’m halfway around the block when I realize someone’s been following me – and doing nothing to conceal the fact. I turn around, and it’s all I get to do before a streak of brown flashes before my eyes.

Instincts I don’t even know I possess kick in. I catch a glimpse of black eyes and jab them with my fingers. My attacker
howls.

Shick.

A dog – no, a wolf – no, a
werewolf.

I’m absolutely sure of it.

Finally managing to pull out my stun gun, I zap it once, twice, as many times as I can. The werewolf’s body falls into the ground with a heavy thud.

My phone rings. I scramble to answer it, but shiny silver nails swipe it away. Another werewolf?

SHIT! Surely no one’s going to argue with me and say that this moment doesn’t call for a real cuss word.

The werewolf makes another swipe, dislodging the stun gun out of my hand before I can press the trigger. I stare at it in horror. Is this it for me?

Then a
third
werewolf comes out of nowhere, nails slicing into the side of the brown werewolf in front of me. Its nails are sharp and long, enough for them to go through my attacker’s body, their tips protruding from the other side. The nails retract, coming out with a heart skewered on them.

The werewolf – the good one - throws the heart on the ground with another howl.

Midnight black fur and green eyes.

“Domenico?” I whisper. Now, it just feels natural to call him that. All the time we’d been in his office, talking and making out, I wasn’t able to make myself say his name. It didn’t feel right. Now I know why. Finally. I can get past the fact that he’s the larger-than-life CEO of the company I work for, a guy who’s so sexy and gorgeous women all over the world have wet dreams about him. This time I feel a connection with him, a bond that’s strong enough to make me feel I have the right to call him by his first name.

It takes a second for Domenico to change back.

“Are you all right?” He brushes the hair from my face, which sweat has glued to my skin. The air is sticky around us in its humidity but Domenico’s sudden presence makes me feel I’m in an inferno of
his
making.

I nod.

“You were wonderfully brave,
cara
.”

“You saw me?” I start to frown when he nods and I realize the implications of it. “You
let
me fight it when you could have helped me?”

An implacable look settles on his sinfully handsome face. “I will die protecting you, Misty, but there will be times when I won’t be by your side and danger will find you instead. I wanted you to find the strength you’ve always had inside you to fight back.”

His words make sense, but they didn’t stop me from feeling a little hurt. In a way, it’s like a parent letting a baby stumble a few times until he – she – learns to stand. So, yes, I get it, I really do, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.

“You’re so cold,” I blurt out.

He stiffens. “Are you saying ‘no’ then?”

I shrug helplessly. “I don’t--”