ALPHA ADRIAN was a reasonable man, but he never felt emotions half-way. When he was angry, he was angry with a side of furious and tall glass of pissed.
Calvin sank into his chair, wishing that the leather could wrap around him and take him out of his misery. He ran a hand over his stubbled face, already feeling a new headache forming.
He hated being the bearer of bad news, especially to the animal of a man whose claws didn’t hibernate until the remains of his enemies couldn’t be recognized by their maker.
With a final scan of the paper, he rushed out of the office and headed for the lion’s den. His hesitant fist knocked on the door, arousing the beast caged behind the mahogany.
“Who is it?” Adrian called out.
“Is it important?”
Calvin entered the scrutiny of olive-colored eyes that he knew would soon turn hunter-green.
He extended the printed article to the alpha, cringing at the realization that his clammy hands had saturated the paper.
Adrian’s greens flew across the paper like thunder, his brows reaching for each other to cloud the beginnings of his storm. The paper vibrated in his fist once an earthquake roared in his chest.
“Get me a number.”
Calvin frowned. “The number of the public relations department?”
“No. The number of their CEO.”
Adrian shot out of his chair, re-reading the headline to ensure that his eyes weren’t fooling him. Obnoxiously bold letters stared back at him, reading, “WEEKLY SCANDAL: LANA MILLER.”
This wouldn’t do. His name was to be respected, not spat on by puny humans that had nothing better to do than to lie and gossip.
He stared at the pictures. In one of them, his shirtless back was facing the camera. His sister, Lana, stood in front of him in a bikini, accepting the cash he was offering. Someone had translated the innocent scene of him giving his sister money to one of her soliciting.
His sister? A prostitute?
His claws extended, awakening from their slumber and seeking the sedative of blood.
Calvin returned to the office with a number scribbled on a paper. It would have taken another man days to get access to this kind of information, but Adrian was far from regular. He had a wolf attached to his soul, millions to his name, and a knack for bloodthirst.
He pounded the number into his cellphone, putting the device on speaker and tossing it on his desk before his fury cremated it.
An unhinged snarl stabbed the rest of the man’s greeting.
“Eradicate that fucking article of Lana Miller, or else I’ll make sure no one touches your stocks with a ten-foot pole.”
“After the article is down, you’re going to apologize to Lana publicly. If you give me any fight on this, Bennings, and I’ll sue the kidneys out of you.”
“Who is this?” Bennings, the CEO of the international magazine, threw back.
“Adrian Miller. Get to work, you son of a bitch. You’ve got one minute.”
He smashed a fist into the phone to disconnect the call, completing his path of destruction with a kick to his desk.
“Anything else, sir?” Calvin asked, making sure that he stood away from the windows. The last thing he needed was for Adrian’s foot to get any ideas.
Adrian’s hands combed through his hair in search of control. “Get my lawyers. We’re suing for defamation of character, fuck, everything. I’m throwing the goddamn book at whoever wrote this libelous shit.”
Content with the excuse to get away from Adrian’s warpath, Calvin walked out of the office.
Adrian was left staring at his watch, waiting for sixty seconds to tick. His aching fingers sloppily punched the keyboard. With a click that destroyed his mouse, he opened the article.
An error page greeted him.
The article had been taken down.
“Hey, this is Sam. I can’t take your call right now. You know what to do!”
Eva hung up and texted her cousin for the umpteenth time. She had been trying to reach him for days to no avail. It was as if the man had vanished from the Earth.
Whistling her husky over, she grabbed the leash and slid on her sneakers. If she couldn’t get Sam on the phone, then she would try to stop by his apartment.
“Come on, boy.”
With her dog hot on her heels, she left her apartment and entered her car. New York’s notorious traffic made her drive longer than usual. Once she parked, she walked a few blocks to Sam’s apartment. The light that streamed from the cracks advised that he was home.
“Go home, Eva.”
Her brows furrowed. “Are you okay?”
A sniffle answered her.
“Come on. I can’t help you from out here.”
Clattering and rustling terrorized her ears before the door was pulled open. His living room was obliterated. It was littered with cans of beer, papers, and tissues.
Sam kicked away garbage as he dug his way to a couch.
Eva worriedly eyed the dump his apartment had transformed into. “What the hell happened?”
Skittishly brown eyes found hers.
“I messed up.”
She sat beside him, running a soothing hand over his back. “What did you do? I’ll try my best to help. You know I’m always here.”
He shook his head. “Nothing can be done. I pissed off some powerful people. The only thing that can get me out of this is money that I don’t have.”
The words of inspiration that Eva was about to preach slithered back into her gut. If it was money that he needed, then she was going to be useless. She owned more debts than dollars.
Sam reached down, retrieved a paper, and handed it to her.
“Why are you showing me this?”
“It was written by yours truly. I fucked up. They sued me.”
It only took her a few seconds of reading before her shoulders fell. With the article on her lap, she reached for a beer and tossed it back.
After being down for editing for 9 months, ya boy Adrian has returned hotter than ever. This story has no set update schedule. I’ll update it whenever I can since I’m prioritizing my other story, The First She.