Page 6 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Maid

"Oh! You must be Dean's new housekeeper. What perfect timing!" The woman cornered me as I exited the elevator and hooked her arm in mine. "I'm Mrs. Abernathy, I live downstairs in 29C." Her silver hair was perfectly coiffed despite the late hour. She was wearing a floral housecoat that somehow managed to look elegant rather than frumpy. "I just pulled a batch of snickerdoodles from the oven. Won't you join me for tea?"

My first instinct was to politely decline. I was exhausted from wrestling Dean's chaos into submission all day. But there was something in her warm smile that made me pause. "I suppose I could spare a few minutes."

"Wonderful!" She ushered me into her apartment, which was the polar opposite of Dean's technological fortress. The walls were covered in soft floral wallpaper, delicate porcelain figurines decorated every table and shelf in the living room, and the heavenly scent of fresh-baked cookies created an atmosphere of cozy comfort.

"You know," Mrs. Abernathy said as she poured tea into delicate china cups. "That boy, Dean. He wasn't always so..." she waved her hand vaguely, searching for the right word.

"Antisocial?" I supplied.

She chuckled. "I was going to say prickly. But yes. Would you believe he once helped me catch Mr. Whiskers when he escaped onto the balcony?"

I nearly choked on my cookie. "Dean? Dean Nightfang?"

"Oh yes. It was quite the sight. This tall, serious young man was crawling on all fours, making little kissing sounds to lure mycat back inside." Her eyes twinkled with mischief. "Of course, he swore me to secrecy. Said it would ruin his reputation."

I couldn't help but giggle at the mental image. "I can't imagine him doing that now."

"He's still in there, dear. That kind boy who helps little old ladies rescue their cats." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "Just last month, when my grocery delivery was mixed up with someone else's, he had that clever computer of his track down my proper order and had it delivered within the hour."

"Jenkins helped with that?"

"Oh no, dear. Dean did it himself. Showed up at my door with the groceries and everything." She smiled softly. "He tries so hard to pretend he doesn't care, but his actions betray him."

I sat back, processing this new information. It was like putting together a puzzle, but all the pieces showed a different picture than I'd expected.

"You know what I think?" Mrs. Abernathy continued, refilling my teacup. "I think he's lonely. All that success, all that money, but what good is it without someone to share it with?" She gave me a meaningful look that made me blush.

"Mrs. Abernathy, I'm just his housekeeper."

"Mmhmm," she hummed, clearly unconvinced. "And I'm just a nosy old woman who makes too many cookies." She pressed a paper bag full of snickerdoodles into my hands. "Take these to him, won't you? Tell him they're from his favorite neighbor."

As I left her apartment, clutching the warm bag of cookies, I couldn't help but smile. Dean Nightfang, grumpy techbillionaire, secretly had a soft spot for little old ladies and their cats. It was oddly endearing.

With my stomach full, I went back to Dean's apartment and left the cookies on the kitchen counter, as well as adding a new note.

"From your favorite neighbor. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone about Mr. Whiskers."

When I checked the next morning, the cookies were gone, and there was a new note in Dean's precise handwriting: "Mrs. A talks too much." But underneath, in smaller letters: "The cookies were delicious. Thank you."

It wasn't much, but it was something. Another crack in the armor.

Chapter 4

DEAN

The hum of my computer was the only sound in the room, a steady, mechanical white noise that usually grounded me. But tonight, it wasn't enough. I leaned back in my chair, the glow of five monitors casting blue shadows across my office. Lines of code blurred before my eyes, useless against the storm in my mind.

Nina.

Her name whispered in my thoughts, an echo I couldn't silence. Her presence invaded every corner of my penthouse. From her scent in the air, to her constant cheerful humming as she worked. It was an intoxicating, heady mix that made my lungs tighten and my wolf growl in approval. The faintest trace of her scent drifted into my office, wrapping around me like a warm embrace I couldn't escape. My enhanced senses picked up the soft pad of her feet against the wooden floor, the whisper of fabric as she moved, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat two rooms away. She was everywhere, and yet nowhere near close enough.

My wolf stirred, restless and insistent, its presence a burning ache beneath my skin. It paced behind my ribs, claws scraping against the cage of my control. A low growl rumbled in my chest, a sound I barely managed to suppress. Mate, it whispered, the word a primal command that reverberated through my bones, demanding surrender.

She's just a housekeeper, I reminded myself. But my wolf didn't listen. It prowled beneath my skin, its instincts urging me to claim her, to mark her as mine. The thought sent shockwaves down my spine, desire warring with iron control.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly before I slammed them down, the harsh clack echoing through the room. Lines of encryption code filled the screen. My code. My legacy. Not the blood money my father had built his empire on, but something I'd created with my own hands. The latest security patch for the Department of Defense glowed on the monitor, a testament to how far I'd come from the dark corners of my family's world. Let them keep their threats and violence. I'd found power in ones and zeros, in firewalls that could withstand armies of hackers. The wolfish smile that curved my lips had nothing to do with my nature and everything to do with pride. I'd done this alone. I'd always been alone. And that was exactly how it should stay.

But in the library, she hummed while she worked, soft and carefree. It pulled at something buried deep inside me. Something I'd locked away years ago.

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