row of empty desks on the open floor plan. The layout was designed to accommodate rapid assistance from the heavy hitters on staff if they were needed to attend to disruptions—such as the occasional unexpected and unwanted visit from reporters or White Hats who snuck past building security. Right now the place was deserted; they got the memo.
The conference room was large enough to seat twelve, and the sideboard was laid out with pastries, teas, coffee, and water. John didn’t bother to offer any, instead gesturing to the empty chairs for the alpha to seat himself.
John edged over to the phone, dialing Alec’s cell. It rang a few times before he picked up.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Royce,” John said, his voice stiff and formal. “The alpha of the Goliath Pack has come to see you.”
Royce’s anger came through clearly, as well as concern for his staff. “I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. Did you clear the office?”
“Yes.”
“Good. For your own safety, keep him occupied.”
John’s fingers tightened around the receiver until the sharp snap of plastic cut the air. He immediately loosened his grip. “Yes, sir.”
As he hung up, he turned back to the alpha, taking a deep, unnecessary breath as he tried to think of what he could do to keep the Were busy. “Mr. Royce will be here within twenty minutes.”
The alpha nodded. Under the circumstances, it was an astonishingly short amount of time to wait. Farhad’s plan had been good—the alpha didn’t doubt that he could have arranged a meeting through normal, accepted channels. But it would have taken longer and the alpha was concerned for the cub’s safety and wellbeing.
His phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the message.
WHERE ARE YOU
He put the phone back in his pocket.
John tried desperately to think of something he could do to keep the alpha busy. If he didn’t, the wolf might start getting ideas that it might not be such a bad way to pass the time honing those murderous instincts his pack was so well known for.
“Would you like for me to arrange for dinner for you or any of your people? Mr. Royce owns a number of fine restaurants in town, and we can have something delivered,” he offered, thinking that sounded safe enough. Until the thought occurred to him that instead of placating the guy, he might have brought up thoughts of eating him or his employer.
Crap.
The alpha paused. “I had a hot dog” might come across as insulting, since Royce had fancy restaurants. “I am not hungry” might come across as a signal that the thoughts of eating John were far from his mind—they weren’t, but he didn’t think it wise to announce he was a cuddly, fluffy puppy. Nor was “I am hungry, but I have dinner plans” appropriate, because it might be insulting to Royce’s restaurants, and be really threatening.
“I am not terribly hungry, thank you,” the alpha said. He carefully avoided answering John’s comment about “any of your people.” He didn’t want to reveal who or how many he had brought with him to New York.
He smiled at John, a small smile, but his lips parted and showed the sharp fangs of a wolf before his gaze slid to the windows, dismissing Royce’s lackey.
John stared blankly for a long moment.
It was clear to him the alpha was permanently imbued with attributes of the wolf that lay dormant in that not-quite-human body.
He couldn’t think. He was afraid to move or say anything else, to draw attention. Paul seemed deep in his own thoughts. Maybe that was for the best. If John kept talking, at this point he might simply annoy him.
So John waited, still, unmoving, not bothering to pretend at breathing or forcing his heart to beat to mimic his prey anymore. He’d be happy if the guy forgot about him entirely in his reverie.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, John nearly wept in relief as Alec opened the door, immaculate in a charcoal grey business suit with a tiny gold and ruby tie tack and matching cufflinks. He’d slicked his black hair back and clipped it at the nape of his neck, leaving the sharp planes of his face and depthless black eyes clearly visible. His gaze swept the room until coming to rest on the diminutive alpha.
Royce was radiating a restrained irritation as he came to a halt beside the table, just a few feet away from the Were. His words were terse, clipped, as if miffed by the inconvenience