We were here to meet our future client: Celina Morelli. This hadn’t been my choice for a meeting place. Not at all. The reason: the founder of Shifting Futures, Ulfen Erickson, was putting on the party, and we were not friends—not since I’d dated his son, and Ulfen took it upon himself to break us up.
But Celina had insisted, saying she was a busy woman who preferred to kill two birds with one stone whenever possible. In truth, she was probably hoping I would find her mate among St. Louis’s rich and famous. If it only worked that way. I hadn’t seen her yet, but we weren’t supposed to meet her until after the reveal.
I shrugged in answer to Rosalina’s question. “I don’t know when. They should just drop the curtain already. Enough suspense. Who cares?”
“Plenty of people care, Toni.” Rosalina waved her glass to indicate the crowd.
She tossed her long black hair over her shoulder and scanned the guests with her radiant green eyes. She looked gorgeous in her emerald sheath dress. It complemented her tawny skin to perfection and accentuated her narrow waist and child-bearing hips.
“I suppose,” I admitted begrudgingly. Shifting Futures was a great charity, even if its founder was an asshat.
Shit! Talking about the head-up-his-ass founder.
I’d spotted him out of the corner of my eye. He was approaching with one of his big-money friends, both dressed in sharp tuxedos. I whirled and faced the bar behind me. I hoped he wouldn’t recognize my backside. I had no interest in talking to him.
I was only here to meet my client.
Quit lying to yourself, Toni, my subconscious piped in.
To be honest, I’d gotten the peculiar idea that I might run into Ulfen’s son. Stephen Erickson was the last guy I’d been able to connect with since my dumb attraction episode with Jake Knight. And it seemed I was craving a little male attention. It had been a while. But it didn’t seem Stephen was here. Maybe it was for the best.
“Is the asshat gone?” I whispered to Rosalina out of the corner of my mouth.
She made a sound in the back of her throat to indicate the coast wasn’t clear yet. I patiently sipped my cocktail. It was deliciously sweet.
“Oh, shit!” Rosalina hissed under her breath.
“What?” Panic tingled across my skin.
She turned and faced the bar, too. “He’s headed straight here.”
“No way.”
“Yes way.”
I was at the brink of fleeing—four-inch heels and all—when a snarly voice sounded behind me.
“Antonietta Sunder, what a pleasure to see you again.” That was what Ulfen said, except it sounded more like “Antonietta Sunder, how disgusting to see you again.”
Well, the disgust was all mine.
Cursing my recognizable backside, I turned to face my nemesis, the person I despised most in the world. Well, almost. Jake held the first prize.
“Mister Erickson.” I stamped on a charming smile. “I wish I could say the same.”
One of his eyebrows shot up, betraying the contempt he still felt for me. Back at you, buddy.
Ulfen was a man of forty-five with thick red hair and a well-kept beard. Six-foot tall and built like a bull, he was of Scandinavian descent, his werewolf line dating back centuries. He resembled his son so much that a twinge of longing stabbed my chest. Damn, even if my crush for Stephen had died of resignation a while back, I still hated this man for viciously murdering what could have been. Ulfen hadn’t liked his werewolf heir messing around with a common tracker, so he put his foot down.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, abandoning all pretenses. “I don’t remember inviting you.”
I shrugged one shoulder and winked. “It’s my thing. I enjoy crashing parties, remember?”
Right before he stuck his nose in our business, I’d interrupted a dinner party at his mansion while searching for Stephen. I’d been a bit tipsy, and Ulfen had been pissed.
He pushed air through his nose like an angry dog but said nothing.
And just because it would annoy him, I cast my eyes around the room. “Where is your gorgeous son, anyway? I haven’t seen him.”
Erickson’s upper lip twitched. It was a slight movement, but I caught it. My question had bothered him, but not only in the way I had intended. I frowned. There seemed to be more to it. Were father and son at odds again? They had never seen eye to eye.
I sighed. The world keeps turning and nothing ever changes.
Ulfen leaned closer, his blue eyes sharp, flashing with a subtle light for an instant. “Let this be the last time I see you at one of my functions. For now, make sure you behave, Ms. Sunder. You know I have no compunctions about throwing troublemakers out.”
Which was exactly what he’d done the night I crashed his dinner party. I landed on my left boob on his perfect lawn.
He turned and walked away.
“I hope his ass spontaneously combusts,” I mumbled, shooting death rays at his tight, forty-five-year-old butt.
Rosalina snorted. “What a jerk.” She cocked her head, also peering at his retreating behind. “Not bad for someone more than twice our age.”
I hated to admit it, but she was right. I heaved a sigh. Werewolves and their genes... they were the envy of even the hottest supermodels. Women couldn’t resist them, just like I couldn’t resist Stephen Erickson and Jacob Knight.
What was with me and werewolves?
Stephen had been the rebound after Jake—my attempt at being normal. But it didn’t work out as I hoped. If only I could track my own mate. I’d tried several times, and got nothing. It was a real bummer.
I shook my head. Dammit! I should have known that coming here would open the floodgates. I’d done my best not to think of hot werewolves in the past year. Rosalina had helped me, turning my attention to better things. She was the only reason I was here today, the reason we had an up-and-coming tracking agency. She’d suggested tracking mates rather
