Page 8 of The Billionaire Alpha's Assistant

Chapter Four

RAFAEL

My head is poundingwhen I pull up in front of Match HQ the next morning. I tossed and turned all night thinking about Alex, and it annoys the hell out of me.

Of all the applicants to select, our algorithm had to go and pick her. I don’t know what it is about this woman — only that I won’t be satisfied until I’ve bent her over my desk and claimed her in every possible way.

Grinding my back molars together, I climb out of the Rover and toss my keys to the waiting valet. My skin is crawling with the urge to shift, and my eight-hundred-dollar Versace shirt is like sandpaper against the back of my neck.

It was definitely a mistake to skip my run this morning, but I slept a full hour later than usual, and I couldn’t afford to be late.

I plow through the lobby without so much as a cursory nod at the guy working security, and three terrified-looking interns jump out of my way as I storm up the steps to the elevators. I yank my collar away from my neck, sending the top button flying in the process.

I’m in a shit mood, but I’m determined to smooth things over with Alex. It’s not her fault that my wolf wants to maul her.

I acted like a complete asshole yesterday to conceal how much I wanted her. Part of me hoped that she’d quit, but now that I’ve been away from her for almost twelve hours, I’m terrified at the prospect.

After the way I treated her, I wouldn’t blame her for leaving, but I don’t know what I’ll do if she’s gone.

The slow climb to the twenty-seventh floor is absolute torture, and I practically ram my way out of the elevator before the doors are fully open.

My gaze snaps to Alex’s desk, and my stomach drops to my knees. It’s empty.

“Fuck,” I growl, yanking on my collar to loosen it further and losing another button in the process.

I’m sure my eyes have turned from brown to gold, and my skin itches so badly that I want to claw my way out of my body. I’m not going to make it through the day without shifting, but I can’t go full wolf out here in the open.

I barge into my office, ready to tear my clothes off, but stop just inside the door. Alex is standing behind my desk, her hands folded primly in front of her. She has her hair pulled back in a braid today, and a few loose strands float invitingly around her face.

“Morning,” she says, pulling a tight smile. Her tone is cheerful enough, but her chocolate-brown eyes hold none of yesterday’s warmth.

I let out the breath I’ve been holding and try to rein in my wolf. “Good morning.”

Alex is wearing another one of her sexy little skirts and a form-fitting white blouse. The buttons strain around her ample breasts, and I keep my office so chilly that I can just make out the hint of nipple pressing through the fabric.

I take a step toward my desk, and my eyes go to the giant plastic Starbucks cup sitting in the corner. I clench my jaw and pick it up. It’s some blended coffee concoction with whipped cream and liquid caramel drizzle.

“What is this?” I growl, my gaze snapping to Alex.

“It’s a caramel Frappuccino,” she says, enunciating each syllable as though I’m an alien that just landed on Earth.

“Do you know how much sugar is in this?”

Alex shrugs and pulls an innocent smile, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I thought you might like to mix it up.”

“I’ve been off gluten and dairy for nine years,” I snarl. “I’ve been off processed sugar for fifteen. I have eight percent body fat. I do not ‘mix it up.’”

“Your call,” she says in an infuriatingly blasé tone. “Oh! Kevin Schilte called an emergency meeting first thing after lunch. There’s an issue with the latest rollout of MatchAI HealthyU. It’s all there in your briefing.” She points at a piece of paper on the desk, where I see she’s neatly typed out a digest of all my important messages.

I take a deep breath and let it out through my nose. I told myself I wouldn’t be an asshole today. “Thank you for the coffee,” I grit out, walking around my desk to take a seat.

It’s then that I notice my leather chair is gone. I was so preoccupied with the drink that I didn’t realize it at first. In its place is a bright-purple yoga ball.

“Sitting is the new smoking,” Alex says when I look at her. “I’ve already asked Vivian to order you a treadmill desk to replace this monstrosity. In the meantime, the ball is better for your core.”

I crush my back teeth together so hard it’s a miracle I don’t chip a molar. “I’m the CEO,” I snarl. “I can’t take meetings sitting on a yoga ball.”

Any sane person would be cowering in the wake of the furious alpha energy pouring off me, but Alex looks infuriatingly unperturbed. “I checked your schedule. You get a ninety-minute massage twice a week for lower-back pain. I figured if we could resolve that issue, you could save twelve hours a month.”

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