Y A N A
No. This can’t be happening to me.
My mouth goes dry at the sight of Mikhail Sartori standing in front of the double doors. The logical part of me wants to look at his face to see if he’s angry or not, but the cowardly side of me just wants to look away and ignore him until he goes away.
Unfortunately, the cowardly part wins. I lower my head and pick up the broken necklace, taking my sweet-ass time as the whole hall gets brought into a standstill. I shove Gwen’s leg just to be mean, and of course she makes a whole show of flinching to bring even more attention to us.
“What’s happening?” I hear Mikhail asking in a low voice, amplified by the silent hall. “What commotion is going on?”
The woman at the desk whispers something incomprehensible to him, and I don’t dare get up until he’s gone.
I’m silently praying to all the gods in every religion that ever existed to take me out of this awkward and possibly life-ending situation, stuffing the necklace back into its bag. I hold my breath as I hear his footsteps.
But instead of going away, his footsteps get louder and louder.
Which means that he’s closer.
Then I see the pair of shiny black loafers stopping in front of me.
I don’t dare look up. I stay there on my knees, picking nonexistent shit from the floor.
Gwen shoots to her feet. “Mister Sartori.”
“Good morning,” comes his pleasant voice. “May I know what’s going on here?”
I freeze. My heart is beating so fast in my chest that I can hardly breathe. Sweat is lining up my forehead and I’m sure that my makeup is slowly melting. I can feel his eyes on me, so I think to myself, fuck it.
Then I look up.
And I almost fall over.
Mikhail Sartori is . . . gorgeous.
No. Not even that. That word doesn’t do him justice. In fact, I can’t think of any word that would do him justice.
He’s always been handsome in a old-timey way, but in person, he looks like a statue come to life, an old movie star that could have swept the masses in the fifties. Wavy black hair, straight nose, sculpted jaw, sloping cheeks. And those eyes . . . gray like brewing storm clouds, as intense as lightning itself but also as quietly shocking as the low rumble of thunder.
His crisp midnight blue suit, which is most likely more worth than my annual rent, hugs him perfectly, clinging onto every sharp plane in a way that makes it obvious he has a great body. Even from here, I can smell his perfume. Musk and mint, with a hint of freshness in there that I cannot place, like pine.
In all the times I’ve seen him on TV or on the internet, I always thought he was uniquely and devastatingly good-looking. But I never thought he would be absolutely immaculate.
My breath gets stuck in my throat. I don’t realize I’ve been gawking at him until Gwen prods my knee with the end of her shoe. I flinch, then I come back to reality. I’m still in a kneeling position in front of Mikhail and he’s staring down at me with an expectant expression.
“Well?” he asks in a deep, smooth voice with a slight rasp. “What’s the matter?”
“I. . . .” I start to say but I falter, the lump in my throat seemingly getting bigger. “I just. . . .”
Fuck. I can’t even talk.
Mikhail angles his head and beckons me to get up. “Follow me. Now.”
* * *
M I K H A I L
It’s not even ten in the morning, and yet I have already rejected all twelve of the first business plans I have heard. I was already starting to think that maybe mixing humans into my world is not a good idea, then I heard some kind of commotion in the hall.
I had to dismiss Jane, who has a boring pottery business, just to address whatever childish tantrum was happening.
And there I saw a woman picking things off the ground, looking flustered and sweaty and just plain weird.
“Follow me. Now.”
Without looking back at her, I turn around and head back to the conference room. I hear the woman’s high heels clacking behind me, so I just motion Evan to open the door and let her in.
I sit behind my desk again, motioning the woman to stand in front of me. Without me instructing her to, she slides her folder on my desk. Then, she reluctantly drops what looks like a mashed up twine box on top of the folder.
She stands back, clearing her throat before saying in a really loud, shrill voice, “I’m Yana Allard, twenty-three, and I am the owner and founder of--”
“Hold on.” I raise a hand to stop her. “You haven’t explained what happened back there. My assistant told me that you were the one who screamed. So what makes you think you can start a scene in my building?”
She opens her mouth to say something, but then she just closes it and takes a deep breath. Her face is entirely red now. Her brown eyes are wide, which tells me that she’s panicking. She’s sweating so much that some of her brown hair is sticking to her face, and I worry that her scent might set me off.
But of course, Evan is already on it.
“I lowered the temperature of the room to make sure she doesn’t sweat more,” he tells me through mind-link. “Her scent is killing me. You alright, boss?”
“I am,” I say, and as soon as I say that, I feel quite surprised.
I’m actually not doing too bad. I don’t feel triggered by her scent at all, even though I can smell traces of it in the air, sweet and flowery.
I turn back to her, and as soon as our eyes meet, she splutters, “My step-sister took my products and . . . we accidentally broke one of them when we were fighting over it. And she smashed the box.” When I don’t say anything, she adds, “I’m really sorry.”
I reach out for her folder and start perusing it. “That’s fine, but please don’t bring your family drama here next time.”
“I sent my presentation in the email,” she tells me meekly. “Should I ask your operator to play it?”
“No need,” I say, looking at her introduction.
So she’s Yana Allard, owner of Catori Jewelry, named after her grandmother who was from a tribe named Sioux. Pretty impressive, since Native American tribes have always been friends with Lycans. What I can’t find impressive is the actual business.
I flick through the pictures of her samples. They look indigenous and intricate, but pretty modern at the same time. I can see them going on stores, but not on a massive scale. And her marketing strategy of sharing her process and trying to go viral is not working for her. Her sales are nearly nonexistent.
“Your records are not good,” I say. “Mediocre online engagement. Almost no traction to your site. No physical sales either. Are you sure this is the right line for you?”
“I’m sure,” Yana replies, and I notice that there’s a slight edge to her voice, like this is something she’s tired of hearing. “I’m a design graduate, and this is what I want to do.”
“Hmm.” I set her file down and look at her samples. The broken necklace has a very thin delicate string, so no wonder it broke. The earrings have a unique topaz design. “They are quite well-made.”
“Thank you.” She shifts in her spot. “So . . . will you fund me?”
Something about her question makes me crack up. I don’t know if it’s her tone or the blatant casualness of it. Or maybe just the plain absurdity. Either way, I am not impressed.
I set her samples down and look at her eye to eye. “Do you think I dole out rewards here? What makes you believe you’re the right candidate for this?”
“Well, you complimented my work,” she reasons out. “Also, I know that with your help, I would be able to grow my business into a sustainable, ethical jewelry brand that is in touch with indigenous roots and Native American culture--”
“I literally read that line in your folder,” I interject with a sigh. “Miss Allard, I am here to find a business that could potentially bring profit. And while the chosen owners would have my experts at their side, I can’t bank on a miracle. That is to say, I can’t start from zero. And you have zero.”
Yana’s face turns plum-red. “I don’t have zero.”
“Yes, you do,” I say dismissively. “Three sales in the past month means nothing--”
“It means something. I just need resources to be able to start!”
I sigh. “I am not a charity, Miss Allard.”
She steps back as though I just slapped her. “No.”
I frown. “Excuse me?”
Yana crosses the room, standing directly in front of my desk. She puts her hand on the table, looking directly at me. Standing way too close to me.
Close enough to trigger me.
I hold my breath, leaning back on my chair to prevent myself from inhaling her scent. I call Evan through mind-link, but it seems that he went out and I didn’t notice. He doesn’t answer.
“Take one more step closer and I will call security,” I warn her. “Remember, I can ban you from this establishment.”
To my surprise, she leans in closer and brings her face dangerously close to mine.
I jump to my feet and tower over her, hoping this would make her move away before I end up shifting, but she squares up to me. Her eyes look wild, like a cornered animal’s before it decides to pounce.
And I find it oddly . . . stimulating.
“I need this,” she growls at me. “I will not get out of here, I will not step back, until I hear you say yes to my business.”
I scoff at her. “You don’t call the shots here. You are nothing but a desperate, tantrum-throwing embarrassment and you need to--”
SLAP.
The stinging sensation zaps me first, then comes the realization and the fear that Yana, a human woman, just touched me. The shock of it makes time slow down and go fast at the same time. I clutch my cheek, looking down only to see that she’s already out the door, bumping into Evan on her way out.
Evan sees me, his eyes going wide. “Boss, what happened?”
“She slapped me,” I mutter, rubbing my cheek. “She . . . touched me.”
“But you didn’t shift,” Evan says, then he stops. “Oh. You didn’t shift when she touched you, but she’s human.”
“Yes.” My confusion turns into utmost joy. “Evan, I think I found my girlfriend.”
Hello, dear readers! Leave a review if you're enjoying the story. Lots of love, Lucy <3
Y A N AI feel numb. I can’t believe I just did that. I can’t believe I just lost all the chances I have to make things better for Catori and my friends.I slapped Mikhail Sartori, a billionaire.Why the hell I’m not being escorted out of the building right now, I have no idea, but I have to assume that it’s a good thing because prison is the last place I wanna be right now.As I go out of the conference room, my knees start to shake so badly that I have to prop my hand against the wall to stop myself from falling over. Some of the hopefuls see me walking out in this condition, and I vaguely register their faces going pale. Do they think that the single-man panel in there roasted the shit out of me? Because if they’re not stupid enough to slap the CEO, they would not be in my place.In the distance, I can see Gwen getting to her feet and looking at me. I don’t dare meet her eyes. I know that if I do, I might just commit murder.“Is everything okay, miss?” the desk lady asks me, but I
Y A N AI don’t say anything. My body is numb and all I can do is sit there and shrink more and more. My luck is rotten to the core. First I blew my chances of making it, and now I got chased into an alley by a strange man whose advances I rejected.I might just die tonight too.He knocks on my window and laughs as I flinch. “You were so brave telling me to fuck off, and now you’re cowering in your car? Open the door so we can talk.”“NO!” I yell at him. “I’ll call the police!”“Do it,” he urges, and to my utter horror, he raises his hands, showing me that he’s holding a crowbar. “I’ll count to three.”A scream escapes my mouth. I fumble for my phone but it falls under the seat. Tyler is swinging the crowbar in his hands, mimicking using it to break my window.And the bad thing is, I know that he’ll do it, so I just crumple into a tight ball, closing my eyes and waiting for the worst.But it doesn’t come.The only thing I hear is the clang of the crowbar falling on the ground, and a l
M I K H A I LSo Yana Allard is indeed human.“That can’t be possible,” Evan told me yesterday after Yana walked out. He looked at the door she just shut closed and then turned to me. “I could sense her. Her human scent is strong and pure, and being in the same room with her was hard. . . .”“Not for me,” I whispered, and that’s when I had to admit to myself that yes, it was pretty strange. How come she was purely human and didn’t affect me? I was supposed to be the one who would get triggered more easily. “She might be something else.”“I doubt that,” Evan said, but he did look unsure. “Other creatures had been wiped out by civilization. Us Lycans are pretty much the last ones here.”“Only one way to find out,” I said, clutching my smarting cheek. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she turned out to be a troll or something. She was strong.”He laughed. “Only one way to find out, boss.”With that, he looked at me and instantly, we both knew what to do. I assigned an officer to take over the
Y A N A I’m floored. Not only that, I think I just sank all the way to Satan’s armpits in hell because of what Mikhail said. However, he just looks at me pleasantly as though this is a perfectly sane conversation between two sane adults. “Of course, this will be completely--” “Aren’t you a billionaire?” I blurt out. When he looks mildly offended about my interruption, I lean close to him and say slowly, “You are a billionaire bachelor.” “And what does have to do with anything, Miss Allard?” I shake my head. How come a rich businessman like him can’t understand basic logic? “What I meant, sir Mikhail is that you are rich and successful, and attractive. . . .” I trail off when I see the smirk on his face. “So you think I’m attractive?” “That’s not the point!” I wave him off. “The point here is, you’re basically the perfect bachelor. Hell, don’t you have a whole groupie of models worshiping the ground you walk on?” His smirk only gets wider. “So you know things about me?” “Everyo
M I K H A I L“What?” Yana splutters as the stylists approach him. She backs away as though she’s being arrested, putting her hands up in surrender. “What’s happening?”“Miss Allard, relax.” I let out a little laugh. “Let them take care of you, okay?”“But what are they going to do to me?”“Make you beautiful.”Yana’s mouth goes wide. “So you mean I’m not?”Oops. I turn to the stylists. “Take her away.”“HEY!” she yells, but they manage to coax her into coming with them, taking her to the private conference room I have at the back of my office.I take a peek before I close the door, and I’m pleased to see that they stylists bought all the clothes, accessories, and makeup that I told them to choose. Yana still looks like a fish out of water, but I’m certain she will adjust in no time.I go back to my desk and start to flick through some documents containing our financial statements. I review the summary and see that there’s a mistake, so I decide to take a crack at checking them cover
Y A N ANo way. No freaking way Mikhail did this and said that.I want it to be a dream. I’m so humiliated that I can’t feel my own body. I’m like a floating entity just standing there, my hand clasped in his as he continues to look at Deborah in challenge.“Anything more?” he prompts. “Or are we allowed to leave now?”Deborah looks like she just got punched in the face. Her husband is staring at her, and when their gazes meet, she suddenly turns to me and mutters, “I apologize, Yana.”“That’s what I like to hear,” Mikhail says in a lofty tone, signing another cheque and tossing it to her. “This is for another six months.”With that, he pushes past her, his hand still wrapped securely around mine as he pulls me along with him. I trot behind him, struggling to keep up not because of my sky-high heels but because my knees are weak from what just happened. His chauffeur opens the door for us, and only when we get inside do I manage to breathe out.“Back to the office, please,” he orders,
M I K H A I L“No answer,” Evan says as he looks up from his phone. “Yana has ignored all ten of our calls, boss. What do we do?”I open my mouth to say that we should call her again, but no sound comes out. The truth is, I don’t know what to do, and calling her this many times with no response is starting to feel wrong to me.Especially considering what happened the night before yesterday.“You did humiliate me more.”Those words continue to run through my mind like a bad mantra. Every time I try to focus on something, I hear Yana’s voice saying that. Granted, it shouldn’t be a big deal since she has every right to feel that way, but I just can’t shake off the feeling that she genuinely believes I shouldn’t have defended her.And she’s right, I didn’t have to. I just did it because I wanted to.I’m starting to think that the only reason why I’m this bothered is because I still don’t know why I wanted to.It’s not because of the contract. It’s not because of our arrangement. I just si
Y A N A“And now you remember me.”I wince when I hear the sarcasm in Mikhail’s voice. I feel pretty bad for calling him on a Saturday night, but Evan dropped by and told me that we should be meeting his parents tonight. I don’t remember if he told me or if I just forgot, but either way, I feel like shit.I have to admit: Olivia’s warning made me doubt everything. And it didn’t help that she brought a fresh batch of clients to my store either. At first, I thought that I would be able to be alright with everything, but guilt started to get to me the moment I didn’t answer the first call.I was already actually considering calling him, but Evan pushed me to do it, and I’m glad that he did.But now, I’m starting to regret calling him immediately. I get that it’s only ten in the evening, but he sounds like I bothered him.“I’m sorry,” I mumble, closing my eyes as I feel my cheeks heating up in shame. “I’ve been really busy for the past two days and I--”“Don’t lie, Yana.” Mikhail is breat