Page 16 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Maid

"Eat," I said firmly. "Doctor's orders."

His lips twitched. "You're not a doctor."

"No, but I am the one who has to deal with you when you're hangry."

That startled a laugh out of him. It was a real one, warm and rich. The sound did funny things to my insides, like butterflies taking flight. His eyes crinkled at the corners, a rare glimpse at the man behind the stressed CEO exterior.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of routine tasks. I was elbow-deep in mopping the balcony when Jenkins spoke.

"Miss Sorenson? Mr. Nightfang would like to see you in his office."

My stomach dropped. Maggie's warnings echoed in my head as I wiped my hands on my jeans.

But when I entered his office, Dean wasn't at his desk. He stood by the window, silhouetted against the city lights. Max's drawing was in his hands, held with surprising gentleness.

The blood drained from my face. I had forgotten all about the drawing I left in the kitchen. Dean must have seen it when he went to refill his coffee.

"Your nephew drew this?" His voice was soft, almost contemplative.

"Yes, he's always drawing. Says art helps him fight the scary things." I shifted my weight, watching Dean's face carefully. "Kids have their own way of processing fear, I guess."

"And what about adults?" He looked up. "How do we process it?"

"Some build towers," I said before I could stop myself. "Others try to face it head-on."

His jaw tightened. "And which am I?"

"I think you know the answer to that." I twisted my fingers together. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to leave it."

He turned, and something in his expression made my heart leap. The usual sharp edges had softened, replaced by something almost wistful. "No, it's good. He has talent."

"He thinks I'm a superhero." I smiled despite my nervousness. "Fighting monsters with my magic mop."

Dean's lips curved slightly. "Smart kid." He traced one of the shadowy figures in the corner. "He sees things clearly."

The city lights painted shadows across his face, casting him in gold and shadow. He looked younger somehow, more approachable. Almost lonely.

"Nina." He set the drawing down carefully. "About yesterday—"

"It's okay." I cut him off, not ready to hear whatever walls he was about to rebuild. "I understand. Your family is off-limits."

He studied me for a long moment, with an unreadable expression in his eyes. "It's not that I don't trust you."

"I know." And somehow, I did. Whatever darkness lurked in his past, whatever secrets he was protecting, it wasn't about me. Not really.

He took a step closer. "You're good with him. Your nephew."

"Max makes it easy." I smiled, remembering sticky hugs and endless questions. "He sees the best in everything."

"Like his aunt." The words were so quiet I almost missed them. They hit me like a physical touch, warming places inside that I'd tried to keep cold. It was dangerous, this softening between us. Every small crack in his armor revealed something that made me want to break down the rest of his walls, even as my self-preservation instinct screamed to run. It was the same feeling that led me to my disastrous relationship with Travis. But this felt different. Dean's darkness didn't feel like cruelty waiting to explode. It felt like pain waiting to heal.

Before I could process that, he cleared his throat and turned away. "You should go home. It's late."

"I live here now, remember?" I tried to keep my tone light. "Part of the job description."

He stiffened slightly. "Right." A pause, then he spoke, so softly that I almost missed it. "Thank you. For the sandwich."

I went back to the living room to grab my messenger bag.

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