Chapter 6

SCARLETT

"Miss! You cannot go up there!"

The receptionist was practically vaulting over her desk, but I was already jamming my finger against the button for the private elevator.

"Security!" she shrieked.

Two large, terrifying guards rounded the corner. I didn't care. I stood my ground, clutching Carter’s suit jacket like a shield.

"I need to see Carter Blackwood!" I yelled, just as a heavy hand clamped onto my shoulder.

"Let's go, miss. Don't make this ugly," the guard grunted, hauling me back.

"Get your hands off me!" I struggled, but it was like fighting a mountain.

Ding.

The silver doors slid open.

The air in the lobby instantly changed. The temperature seemed to drop, and the guards froze, their hands snapping away from me as if I burned them.

Carter stood in the elevator car. He was wearing a charcoal three-piece suit that cost more than my grandmother’s life savings. His dark hair was perfectly styled, his jaw set in a line of granite. He didn't look at the guards. He looked at me.

His gaze dropped to the jacket in my arms, then back to my face.

"Mr. Blackwood," the guard stammered, bowing his head slightly. "She was attempting to breach security. We were just removing her."

"Let her in," Carter said. His voice was low, vibrating through the floorboards.

"Sir?"

"I said," Carter’s eyes flashed with a dangerous glint, "let her in."

The guards stepped back immediately. I straightened my spine, smoothed my shirt, and stepped into the elevator.

The doors slid shut, sealing us in silence.

I expected him to yell. I expected him to mock me. Instead, he simply pressed the button for the top floor and stared straight ahead. The scent of him—rain, expensive scotch, and raw, leashed power—filled the small space, making my head spin.

"You have twenty seconds," he said coldly. "That’s how long the ride takes."

"I didn't steal that money," I blurted out. "And I didn't send that email. Caleb framed me."

Carter didn't blink. "I saw the server logs, Scarlett. The email came from your terminal. Your login. Your digital signature."

"Because he knew my password! We were... we were together for two years!"

He finally turned to look at me, his expression unreadable. "Corporate security 101: Never share your credentials. Even if that were true, it’s gross negligence. I can't reinstate you."

"I am good at my job, Carter. I am the best analyst on that floor!"

"You were a liability."

The elevator dinged, opening directly into a sprawling penthouse office with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. He walked out, expecting me to follow.

"It’s not just about the job," I said, my voice cracking. I hated begging, but I had no choice. I followed him to his massive glass desk. "It’s the severance. I need that money."

He sat down, opening a file, dismissing me. "The policy is clear. Termination for cause voids severance."

"My grandmother is dying!"

The words ripped out of my throat, echoing in the large room.

Carter’s hand paused over a document.

"She starts dialysis next week," I whispered, tears stinging my eyes. "I have bills piling up. I have rent. If I lose this income, she loses her treatment. Please. You have billions. You own half the city. Just... help me."

He looked up. For a second, just a split second, I saw something other than the cold CEO. I saw the man who had carried me out of the alley.

But then he sighed, closing the file. "Everyone has a sob story, Scarlett. If I made exceptions for every employee with a sick relative, this company would be bankrupt."

He was stone. Unmovable.

But as I stood there, trembling with rage and grief, I noticed something.

A vein in his neck was throbbing.

I took a shaky breath, and my werewolf senses, usually dull, flared to life. Underneath the scent of expensive cologne, I smelled it.

Spike. Musk. Heat.

His heart was hammering against his ribs.

He wasn't indifferent. He was affected. He was looking at my mouth, my chest, my body, then forcing his gaze back to his papers.

Nora’s voice echoed in my head: Seduce him. He sure is a pretty valuable asset. Climbing up the corporate ladder is the cherry on top.

I had nothing left to lose.

I dropped his jacket on the chair and took a step around the desk.

"You're not as cold as you pretend to be," I murmured.

Carter stiffened. "Scarlett, leave."

I took another step. I was standing right beside his chair now. "You want me. I felt it last night. I can still smell it. Right now."

He gripped the armrests of his chair so hard the leather creaked. "You are playing a dangerous game."

"I'm desperate," I whispered.

I swung my leg over his lap, straddling him before I could talk myself out of it.

I won't be able to look myself in the mirror after this, but... fuck my conscience. Fuck my dignity.

The way he gasped, the way his hands instinctively came up to grip my hips—not to push me away, but to hold me there... says everything.

This is going to be a walk in the park. I know it.

I leaned in, brushing my lips against the sensitive spot just below his ear. "Help me, Carter. Pretty please. Hmm?"

A low growl rumbled in his chest. It was a primal sound, pure Alpha.

In one fluid motion, he stood up, lifting me with him, and slammed me down onto the mahogany desk. Papers went flying.

"Carter..." I gasped.

Goddess. My butt.

He was looming over me, his eyes dark, his pupils blown wide. The heat radiating off him was an inferno.

He leaned down, his mouth inches from mine, his breath hot on my face. My body arched toward him, betraying me, wanting him to claim me right there on the glass surface.

"Is this what you want?" he snarled, his voice rough with lust. "You want to trade your body for a check?"

"If that's what it takes," I challenged, though my heart was breaking. Tearing inside me, but I mustered the courage to look him in the eyes.

He stared at me, warring with himself. His hand slid up my thigh, his thumb brushing the heat between my legs.

I whimpered, closing my eyes.

Then, he stopped.

The heat vanished. The hands left my body.

I opened my eyes. Carter had pulled back, straightening his tie, his face masked in ice once again.

"Get up," he said flatly.

"What?" I lay there, dazed, my chest heaving.

"I said get up." He turned his back on me, walking toward the window. "I don't fuck virgins."

The shame hit me. It's like an axe slamming into my head. I scrambled off the desk, pulling my skirt down, my face burning.

"That's... that's your reason?"

"I know about you and Caleb," he said, not turning around. "I know he never touched you. I know you're waiting for 'the one' or whatever fairy tale you believe in."

He turned to face me, his expression cruel. "And I’m not going to be the one to break you in. Not when Caleb is now practically family."

My blood ran cold. "What?"

"Messing with his ex—especially a distinctive one like you—is messy. I don't do messy. And I certainly don't share scraps with my brother-in-law."

Scraps.

Tears of humiliation welled in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I grabbed the jacket from the chair and threw it at him. It hit his chest and slid to the floor.

"You're a monster," I choked out, almost screaming. "A fucked-up monster!"

"I'm a businessman," he corrected. "Now, get out."

I turned and ran. I ran past the reception, past the confused guards, and into the hallway.

"Ms. Wells! Wait!"

I didn't stop until I reached the elevators, repeatedly stabbing the button.

A young woman—his personal assistant—caught up to me, breathless.

"Ms. Wells, please." She held out a thick cream envelope. She looked sympathetic, which only made it worse. "Mr. Blackwood wanted you to have this."

I stared at it. "I don't want his money."

"It's not... well, it is." She pressed it into my hand. "He said it's a personal donation. For your grandmother. He said the company can't help you, but... he can."

The elevator doors opened.

I looked at the envelope. Inside was a personal check signed by Carter Blackwood. The amount field was blank.

He had just bought my dignity.

I looked at the assistant, then at the closed door of his office. I wanted to rip it up. I wanted to scream.

But I thought of my grandmother hooked up to a machine. Her pale face. Her suffering.

I clutched the envelope to my chest, stepped into the elevator, and let the doors close on me.

I hope they all rot. Celeb, Carter—they're all fucking the same!