Page 3 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Maid

Her scent clung to every surface, seeping into the walls, the furniture, and the very air I breathed. It was maddening. Lemon and something sweet, like strawberries. It reminded me of sunshine on a summer morning back when I was a young boy. I couldn't escape it. Her scent followed me wherever I went, haunting me like a ghost I couldn't expel.

Nina.

Her name felt familiar, yet foreign in my mind, like a word I hadn't used in years. I didn't want to think about her, but her presence was everywhere in my home.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I tried to silence the growl rising in my chest. She's just a housekeeper, I repeated in my mind, the words sharp and deliberate. But my wolf didn't listen. It prowled beneath my skin, restless and insistent, drawn to her scent.

The thought of claiming her, of marking her as mine, sent a shiver down my spine. I wasn't some primal beast, ruled by instinct. I was Dean Nightfang, a man who'd built an empire from nothing, who'd clawed his way out of the shadows of my family's legacy. I didn't need anyone. Especially not her. But the way she hummed, soft and carefree, as she scrubbed my floors, it was like a siren's call, pulling at something deep inside me. Something I'd buried long ago.

I'd just returned from LA, my head still pounding from the relentless sunshine and the fake glitz and glamour of Levi's world. Saving my best friend from being framed for his co-star's murder had drained me. Not just physically, but mentally. All I wanted now was the silence and peace of my messy inventor's cave, to hide away in my sanctuary amid the chaos of the world.The last thing I needed was a maid humming and messing up my home.

I leaned back in my chair, rubbing a hand over my face. My penthouse was supposed to be my safe haven, a place where I could shut out the world and focus on what mattered. Code, algorithms, the endless hum of my computers.

"You're brooding again," Jenkins's voice cut through the silence, smooth and irritatingly perceptive. "Should I alert the media? Or just Nina? I'm sure she'd love to add ‘cheer up the grumpy billionaire' to her to-do list."

"Shut it, Jenkins," I muttered, my eyes narrowing at the ceiling where the AI's hidden speakers were located.

"Ouch. Someone's cranky. Did your coffee run out of caffeine? Or is it the fact that your housekeeper is actually competent this time? I bet you're not going to send this one running back to the employment agency."

I glared at the ceiling.

"She's rearranged your coffee station," Jenkins said. "Selection of coffee beans on the left, filters in the middle, mugs on the right. It's actually efficient."

I glanced at the counter, my jaw tightening. The coffee station was pristine, everything in its place. Even the mugs were lined up in a perfect row, their handles all facing the same direction. It was annoyingly organized. "Efficient?" I muttered. "That's high praise coming from you."

"Next thing you know, you'll be complimenting her on her ability to arrange your sock drawer by color."

"I don't have a sock drawer," I snapped, though the corner of my mouth twitched despite myself.

"Exactly. Maybe she'll invent one for you. Along with a personality."

I glared at the air, my hands curling into fists. "You're insufferable."

"And you're predictable. But hey, at least one of us is entertaining."

I pushed away from the desk, my chair scraping against the floor. The melodic sound of Nina's humming grew louder as I approached the kitchen.

I paused in the doorway and watched her. She stood at the sink, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows with her hands submerged in soapy water. Her auburn hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and some of the strands at her temples escaped to frame her face.

Freckles dusted her cheeks, and her lips curved in a soft, absent grin as she worked. I wondered what she was thinking about that made her smile like that. She was a radiant source of warmth and light in a world that had always felt cold and dark.

A growl rumbled in my chest, low and filled with possessiveness. I clenched my teeth and clamped down on my wolf. Stop it. She's the housekeeper, I reminded myself. Nothing more. But as I watched her, the words felt like a lie.

Her room was down the hall, just two doors away from mine. I hadn't been in there. And I never would be in there. But sometimes, late at night, I'd hear her. The soft creak of the floorboards as she moved around. The faint rustle of sheets asshe settled into bed. The sound of her humming as she worked or read or did whatever it was she did in there.

It was torture. She triggered all of my wolf's most base instincts. The beast was restless and agitated, clawing at my insides to get closer to her. It was impossible to think, to even breathe. My penthouse, which was supposed to be my sanctuary, now felt like a cage.

Suddenly, the humming stopped. The water splashed in the sink, and she turned, catching me in the doorway. Her green eyes widened slightly, and a flush crept up her cheeks. "Oh! I didn't see you there," she said, her voice soft and breathless.

I didn't respond. I couldn't. For a moment, the world narrowed to just her.

"I was just finishing up," she stammered. She dried her hands on a towel with quick and nervous movements. Her eyes flicked to mine, then away, a flush creeping up her cheeks. "Is there anything else you need?"

Yes, my wolf growled. You. I shook my head, clearing my throat. "No. That's all."

She nodded, her gaze lingering on me for a moment longer. "Oh, okay. I'm almost done here, and I'll be out of your hair," she said before she turned back to the sink.

I stood there, rooted to the spot, my heart pounding in my chest. Say something, you fool. But the words wouldn't come out. And I knew, deep down, that she was anything but just a housekeeper.

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