Filthy rich werewolves by Taylor Caine

Chapter 72

I suck in a breath.

Jay is…scenting me.

A low growl emanates from his body.

I tense.

I have the instinctual urge to run. But I know better.

Alpha males… they live for the chase.

”Did you like having that man come here?” he asks. “Were you touched by what he said just now?"

“Touched?” I laugh but it’s a pathetic sound. “That I don't know, but I am surprised. I’m a convict, Jay.

Accused of taking a human life. What man would want to be with me?”

“Did you invite him here?”

“No.” I shake my head. “And I truly didn't expect Gus to just show up and say those things.”

He frowns. "I don't trust him.”

But as he says that, he’s watching me carefully, cataloguing my every response. Like maybe it’s me he

doesn’t trust. I recognize what it is to have our wolf side at the surface. He can hear, see and scent

things that would be undetectable to a human.

“Jay,” I whisper. “What are you doing?”

”Sister, do you like that man because he said those things?" he asks instead.

An unsettling feeling tickles up my spine. It feels a lot like … attraction or anticipation. But this is my

‘brother’ and he’s on edge right now.

Is that what I’m responding to? The presence of his wolf?

This show of dominance as he pins me in place?

I clear my throat. He’d asked me a question and I have yet to answer. “No, I don’t like Gus.”

He leans closer, his chest against mine, and his lips brush my ear.

I suck in a breath.

“Hmm..Are you sure, Grace?”

What was he asking about? My mind goes blank at the sound of his voice, the rumble of it, I can feel

from his body to mine.

I shiver.

He makes some small humming sound.

Does he know what his nearness is doing to me?

My heart is pounding. I don’t know what to do with my hands. I curl my fingers into fists so I don’t reach

for him.

Each breath carries the scent of him and it’s the woodsy, moonlit smell that brings all the best

memories of running free.

I’m not sure what undoes me more, the feel of his body or the nostalgia he evokes in me.

I just want… more.

Jay’s hands slide up from the wall where he has boxed me in to my face. He tilts my chin up and I

drown in his eyes.

“Be careful,” he tells me. “Most males cannot be trusted.”

It’s a warning.

“I know,” I say. Didn’t I already learn that the hard way? “I’m not interested in him.”

“Good.” He nods and I’m reminded again of how alpha he is.

It’s more than just his quiet confidence or strength. It’s an assuredness of getting what he wants. And,

apparently, my answer pleases him.

“You should remember to reject him. If not, a man like him will probably wait for you forever."

“I’ll make it clear.” And I would. “Gus is a good man. He should have a relationship with someone who

can truly belong to him and not waste time on me."

Jay’s lips curve.

He’s likely trying to protect me—as any brother would. I would be smart not to think about having a

normal future. Even if a man proclaimed that my ‘past’ didn’t bother him, I know, over time, it would.

“How does he know that you have been to jail?" he asks suddenly.

He continues to hold my face and I can’t catch my breath. Though he seems content to converse while

we’re standing this close, I’m struggling to focus.

“Answer the question,” he says.

He tilts my chin up higher, and it’s a dominant gesture to force me to keep my eyes locked on his.

A delicious little shiver courses up my spine.

Jay makes some slight sound, no doubt sensing it.

“A, uh, colleague found out about the news of my car accident all those years ago, so now the entire

Sanitation Service Center knows about my imprisonment.”

Recalling the way everything changed today—the gossiping and stares, the snide comments and

hostile looks, I’m hit with embarrassment.

I break eye contact and shove out of Jay’s space. “I still have to tidy up the room.”

For the next few days, my colleagues continue to whisper and gossip about me at work. Several of my ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

coworkers who’d been friendly previously make it a point to avoid me now.

I mentally prepared myself for this.

I did.

But somehow knowing what would transpire and actually experiencing it were two different things. The

callous and cruel gossip hurt.

However, Claire treated me as usual, laughing and talking and eating snacks with me on our breaks as

if nothing had changed.

I was so thankful for that.

“Grace, you're a university graduate, why did you find a job like this? Do you really want to sweep

roads for the rest of your life?" Claire finally asks on the third day, and I wonder how long she has been

bottling up this question—and so many others.

"I have a criminal record and it isn't that easy to look for a job," I admit.

There’s also the added complication of being unable to work in other pack territories. I’d need special

permissions for such a thing and I know given my status and the Stevens Pack and Lily’s after me, that

such a thing would never happen.

It brings me back to Sean’s offer, to be an admin or secretary at one of his holdings. As if I’d ever do

such a thing.

I’m still not sure what his play is.

Maybe to lure me away so he can dispose of me once and for all. Or to better keep tabs on me. Or

perhaps I’m some ‘gift’ he’ll later give to his heinous fiancee.

I don’t know what his motive is.

I just know I can’t trust anyone.

Except Jason.