Chapter 75

"And I don't know what Elena was thinking," Matilda said to Amy, who had her arms around me, crying gently into my shoulder. "But I was sure she was going to tackle that man with a gun herself when she reached him."

"I didn't have a plan, so maybe you're right," I said to Matilda, laughing. "Thankfully Charles knew what he was doing."

"Thanks to your text," he said. "I wouldn't have seen it coming until it was too late if it wasn't for you."

We were all silent, the gravity of the possibility sobering all of our minds, and yet I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. Thinking about the alternative, thinking how close we came, the relief was overwhelming.

I couldn't believe we were all okay.

Under all the relief, however, I still had a knot of anxiety in my stomach. I was remembering the sound of the gun, of how Charles had knocked Blake Culpepper's gun to the side. That bullet went somewhere. What if it had hit someone like Matilda? Someone with a child?

There would be more innocent causalities if we didn't stop all of this soon.

Amy sniffed and I squeezed her. "I'm so thankful," she said. "Thank you for catching Jessica's killer. Thank you for saving my boss," she said first to Charles then to me.

I leaned against her and felt her inhale my scent. Her muscles relaxed and she looked at me with more calm eyes. "Where's Sally?"

"Putting together a story to replace the original headline for this evening," Charles said. "Matilda's photos went out with the breaking news banners online, but now we need a more coherent story with witness statements and police records to make it all official."

Amy sighed and shook her head. "What a day."

The next morning, I was heading up to Charles' office a little early for lunch when Sally ran toward the elevator where I was just hitting the button for the fourteenth floor penthouse.

"Hold the door, Elena!"

I did and she rushed in, glancing at the light-up number. "Oh good," she said. "I have some urgent news for your man so I'll just come with you and intrude on your date."

My man. The words still sounded incredible to me and I smiled, the feeling of love for Charles and the knowledge that he was seen as mine warming me to my toes.

"Oh, stop it, you twitterpated thing," Sally said, glancing at me and grinning at my blush.

"I can't help it," I said. "You're right. I am totally twitterpated."

She laughed at me and shook her head. "Enjoy it, Elena. You deserve it."

When the doors opened, she strode into the office and surprised Charles who had come out of the office expecting to see me. I glanced around her figure and smiled at him apologetically.

"That asshole Culpepper is holding a press conference in..." she looked at her watch, "...twenty-two minutes. I was going to watch from my computer but then I thought you'd want to see it as well so we can craft any rebuttals right on the spot."

Charles nodded and looked at Amy. "Grab the other editors, if you can. Let's do it in the conference room."

He looked around Sally and winked at me. "Hey, beautiful."

"Hey."

I blushed slightly at his words, remembering the night before when he'd stroked my body until I was gasping with desire, calling me "beautiful" just like that before pushing inside me and making me moan with pleasure. The twinkle in his eyes told me he was remembering too.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me with him into the conference room, making sure I had the seat directly next to him. He sat next to me with his notepad and wheeled his chair closer as Sally and Amy discussed who else to call.

"I've been thinking about you all morning," he rumbled quietly in a deep, growling voice. "Picturing you with your head thrown back and ..."

"Hush!" I laughed, the flush starting in my chest this time and creeping up my neck.

"I love teasing you," he said, leaning down toward me and kissing me on the forehead. He looked sideways at the red flush on my neck and his eyes filled with hunger. He kissed my hot skin, letting his lips linger for a moment before he took a deep breath and pulled away. "Shall we get to business then?"

"If we have to."

He began to set up the video screen from a remote. I watched his broad shoulders taper to a V at his waist and felt myself getting warm under my clothing. I also was picturing him with his head thrown back, his muscles tense as they gripped me, groaning my name.

He turned to look at me and grinned a cocky, confident smile as if he knew what I was thinking. Amy walked in, followed by the political editor and his face instantly turned professional. In five minutes, there were twenty people in the room, Sally sitting next to me and Amy.

The Rafe Media streaming news footage showed an empty podium, but at noon on the dot Mr. Culpepper walked in, followed by his staff who stood behind him. I felt Sally tense next to me and looked at the man who had done so much damage to her life and whose son had killed two of my colleagues along with others over a decade earlier.

He looked so normal. He looked like any aging politician from our city, and yet there was something around his eyes that I didn't trust. Like so many werewolves, I wished I had the opportunity to be in the room, to catch his scent. That would have told me a lot more about him.

He began by thanking people for coming and by acknowledging the protests which he reframed as riots, a comment which sent a murmur of disapproval around the room.

"I would like to make an official statement saying I had no idea my son was out of prison, and I am looking into how this occurred. I will report any findings to Chief Smyth of the detentions facilities to see what changes need to be made at a law enforcement level."

He cleared his throat and continued.

"My son's actions are in no way linked to me, and I take no responsibility for them. I will, however, apologize to Mr. Rafe for the incident, and hope that this incident will encourage him to be less aggressive in his pursuit of a more public role."

"Woah!" one of the editors said aloud, and a general hiss of outrage went up around the table.

"Thank you, and I'll take a few questions at this time."

The Rafe Media reporter from off screen yelled a question about the allegations of city leaders taking payoffs, making the editors around the conference table nod their heads in approval. Mr. Culpepper, however, ignored the question and went to someone else who was asking about security for the Culpepper family.

"Coward," and "Avoiding the question," various editors muttered.

The Rafe Media reporter tried again, asking why Culpepper called the protests riots where there were no reports of violence or unlawful behavior. Again, they were ignored.

"Well," the political editor at the end of the table said as Mr. Culpepper turned and exited the room, "At least Matt got the questions in loud enough that anyone watching will have heard him turn those down."

I listened as the editors quickly strategized and began to map out assignments, hoping I would get one of them. Toward the end, one of the editors looked up at me.

"Ms. Laurentia, will you be having lunch in the conference room up here or down in Social Scene's offices?"

"Uh, up here," I say, not understanding where the question was leading.

"I've had a request from a few of my reporters who would like to join you. Nothing social necessarily. I'd also be honored to hang out if you're amenable."

I look at Charles who was smiling at his notepad.

"Sure, why not?" I said, trying not to think how weird a request it was.

The editor and a few others including Sally began to text into their phones and within ten minutes a few shy writers, typesetters, and proofreaders came in and quietly began to unpack their lunches, sitting in the seats vacated by a few of the editors.

Sheila, Stan, and Kevin also came in, all waving at me and settling down to eat nearby. They chatted with me but mostly worked on crosswords or scrolled on their phones.

Charles and I ate the pizza Amy had ordered, offering some to whomever came in.

By the time lunch was over there were perhaps twenty people all eating quietly together, doing their own separate thing but enjoying the solitude.

After, I followed Charles into his office before going down to the tenth floor to work.

"That was weird," I said. "Did everyone want to experience life in the penthouse or something?"

Charles smirked at me. "You still don't get it, Elena?"

I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders. "What?"

"Didn't you notice people standing around you yesterday in the lobby?"

"Yeah, that was a little weird, too."

"People are waking up to your scent, Elena. I don't know how or why, but all those people are feeling stressed, and just being near you helps them."

I was floored. "Are you serious?"

He walked up to me and put his arms around me. "Promise you'll still give me private scent breaks when you become famous. I was the first one to demand them, after all."

"I promise, but I really don't think it's me they're after," I objected.

Charles just laughed and squeezed me tighter. "And with that in mind, I want you to come with me to a meeting with some city officials. Can you do that?"