Page 2 of The Broken Wolf's Redemption

She inhaled too sharply. A mistake. The whole place smelled like oil, grease, chemicals, metal and tires, but on Rome, the scent wasn’t unpleasant.

He took her down a short hallway, past a few closed doors, and made a sharp right into his own office. When he turned on the light, she noticed that his hands weren’t clean. His nails had grease caked into the fine lines around his nailbeds. He’d probably scrubbed them clean, but the stains were always there. Working man’s hands. She’d noticed at the last several appointments that his hands were calloused and stained. They hadn’t always been that way. She’d made the mistake of asking him about it once, and got a non-committal grunt and something about a garage he’d just opened.

There were no chairs in the office. He didn’t close the door.

She was already sweaty, which could be excused by the hot August day and the fact that her car had no AC, but now she could feel the beads trickle down from the back of her neck. She shivered anyway.

Rome tilted one dark brow at her as he faced her from a foot away. His desk was as clinical as he was. There was nothing on it except a monitor, keyboard, a mouse, one expensive-looking pen, the kind that twisted open, and a pad of plain lined paper. No chair. Had he removed it? Did he stand there when he needed to work? The desk wasn’t anything fancy, it looked like every other standard office desk, and it wasn’t the right height for it.

“Ms. Prescott. You called me to ask for this meeting. Why don’t you enlighten us both as to what it is you might want.” He managed to sound bored and imperious at the same time.

A violent hammering started in Seren’s head. Her heartbeat tore at her pulse points and wrenched behind her ribs. She’d thought about how she could ask this man for a loan. While other men might enjoy having their egos stroked with flattery and perhaps even flirting, Rome was the kind who would appreciate a direct approach.

Her mouth was disgustingly dry, and she wished she’d tucked a bottle of water into her bag. There wasn’t any on offer here. Rome was probably above basic human conditions like hunger and thirst.

“I need a loan.”

“Ahh.” He grasped his hands together, locking his fingers and cracking his knuckles. Loudly. Or was that sound the peals of her heart doing a number on her ribs? “A loan. From me. What gives you the impression that I’m the person you should come to for something like this? The bank seems far more suitable.”

“The bank isn’t going to lend me this kind of money. Even if I had some collateral to put up or assets I could move, it would take too long.”

He didn’t ask why. His face didn’t so much as twitch. He stood there and then his eyes slowly swept over her. When they returned to her face, they were even blacker than ever. It was impossible to distinguish his pupil from the iris. Without so much as trying, he managed to drip danger, but also elegance. There was something unfortunately magnetic about Rome Nightfall.

Unfortunate for every female out there. Rome also gave off incredibly disinterested vibes. She’d never seen him look at anything or anyone with an ounce of warmth. He was indeed a carved stone statue.

“How much?”

“Um, a little over a million.”

“Oh.” He turned on his heel and gave her his back without going anywhere. It was more unnerving than if he’d gone right up in her face and laughed at her. That one word was sharp enough. Dangerous.

Her whole body broke out in a clammy sweat.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

“If that’s what you want me to ask.”

She wanted to ask him to turn around and damn well face her. Her stomach twisted sickly. This wasn’t about pride. She hadn’t anticipated this would be easy. She knew Rome wasn’t like anyone else. He was too magnificent to be normal. Still. It seemed like he was enjoying himself. Enjoying torturing her. Since his back was to her, she couldn’t tell, and it was maddening.

“Because the insurance company I have my policy with for the shop is shit. Because over the last six months we were sued for malpractice and the prick was awarded over a million dollars. He said he contracted hepatitis from our shop, but it’s not possible. We’re so careful. All of us have liability insurance, but they’re refusing to cover it. It’s either declare bankruptcy and lose the shop or find a way to pay.”

She should have known better than to expect a simple no or a yes. Rome either wanted to make her suffer or he was thinking. The prolonged silence that fell over them was as sharp as a knife.

“You think I have this kind of money because…”

Why the fuck did she think that? It wasn’t the clothes and the shoes. Maybe it was the fact that he’d tipped her more than his entire back piece cost on the last session when she’d completed it. She’d tried to look into him at that point, but short of hiring someone, she knew she’d find very little. He was a shifter, and other than the few legal things he had to put his name to, the rest would be carefully hidden. As curious as she was, she wasn’t going to throw money away on a PI. She had no idea where to even find one who specialized in shifter and paranormal digging.

He turned back slowly, sucking all the oxygen out of the small office. The walls were so white, the floor a speckled white and gray industrial tile. The place looked like any other garage. She wasn’t walking into a multi-billion-dollar construction.

Rome’s unreadable expression sucked the life out of her, but it also wrenched the truth from her closed-up throat. “I have no one else to ask. If you don’t have the money, do you know someone who would lend it to me?”

“Do I know someone?”

It was irritating in the extreme that he asked her with another tilt to his brow, amused by her discomfort. She knew she was visibly distressed. She was shit at hiding it, and she was still sweating. He could probably hear her thunderous heartbeat.

“I know you’re a wolf. I’ve wounded you. I’ve drawn your blood. The truth is, I never needed to. I knew what you were from the second you walked in. Just as you knew I was also a wolf. You drive a nice car. You wear nice clothes. You probably have a big house somewhere and you have this shop. You spend an insane amount of money on tattoos, so that tells me you have a large portion of disposable income. Maybe that’s all just assumptions. Maybe it was idiotic to come here. You were my last shot. I’ve already tried everything and everyone else. I’m not going to close up my shop without a fight. I’m not going down like this. It’s not my pride. It’s the fact that I’m responsible for everyone else working there. It’s my business. It’s my building. I put this together. This is on me.”

“It’s not a little bit about your pride?” An errant twitch of his left eye broke something wide open on his face. For a fleeting instant, she thought she saw enjoyment. Not for the current moment, but an immense satisfaction at what was to come. That if it was about her pride, he’d enjoy breaking her.

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