Page 3 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Writer

I stepped onto the treadmill and cranked up the speed, the rhythmic pounding of my feet against the belt matching the rhythm of my thoughts.It brought me back to the pitch.I closed my eyes, hearing the roar of the crowd, feeling the weight of the ball at my feet, and remembering the split-second decision that had won us the championship.That moment had been mine, untainted by the Nightfang name.And now, it was all on the line again.

But I wasn’t that scared kid anymore.I’d built an empire from nothing.I’d fought for every inch of my success.And I wasn’t about to let my family’s reputation destroy it.

As I ran, the tightness in my chest began to ease and a steely resolve took its place.I’d write the damn book.I’d tell my story before anybody else could.I’d do it my way.And if anyone thought they could take me down, they were in for a fight.

The treadmill beeped as I hit my target distance, and I slowed to a walk, my breath coming in steady bursts.I grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from my face.In the mirror, my reflection in the mirror staring back at me, my gaze steely and determined.

The game had changed.And this time, I was going to make the rules.

Chapter 2

ARIEL

The stack of rejection letters on my desk had officially surpassed the height of my coffee mug.I stared at them, my chin propped on my hand, and sighed.Another day, another email that began with “We regret to inform you.”I’d lost count of how many I’d received this month alone.

The scent of stale coffee and old paper filled the air, a bitter reminder of countless hours spent hunched over my desk, pouring my soul onto the page only to have it rejected time and time again.My ancient laptop’s fan was the only sound in the room, a constant drone that usually comforted me but now only served to highlight the silence of my solitude.I reached out, tracing the edge of a crumpled rejection letter, the paper rough under my fingertips.Each one was a dream deferred, a story untold, a piece of my heart sent out into the world only to be returned, unwanted.

My apartment was small.I liked to call it cozy, but sometimes, it felt more like a prison cell.Clutter surrounded me, threatening to fall on me like a tsunami of half-finished manuscripts, sticky notes with scribbled ideas, and old takeout containers that I really needed to throw out.My laptop screen glowed in the dim room, the cursor blinking on a blank page, taunting me.

I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair.“Come on, Ariel,” I muttered to myself.“You’re better than this.”

My phone buzzed, and I nearly knocked over my coffee in my haste to grab it.The screen lit up with an unknown number.My heart skipped a beat.Could this be it?The call I’d been waiting for?

My hand trembled slightly as I swiped to answer.“Hello?”I answered, trying to sound professional and not like I’d been staring at rejection letters for the past hour.I straightened in my chair, my back stiff with anticipation.

“Ariel Hayes?”a woman’s voice asked, crisp and businesslike.

“Yes, this is she.”

“This is Gladys from Discreet Talent Connections.We’ve reviewed your portfolio, and we’d like to offer you an assignment.”

I sat up straighter, my pulse quickening.“An assignment?”

“Yes.A high-profile client is in need of a ghostwriter for his autobiography.The pay is substantial, and the exposure could be career-changing.Are you interested?”

“Interested?”I repeated, my voice rising an octave.“Yes!Absolutely.Thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“Good,” Gladys said briskly.“The client’s name is Sterling Nightfang.He’s expecting you at his office today at three o’clock.”

I blinked, my mind racing.Sterling Nightfang.The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it.“Sterling Nightfang,” I repeated slowly, as if saying it out loud would jog my memory.“Wait, isn’t he that billionaire?The soccer player?”

“Former soccer player,” Gladys corrected.“Now a CEO and investor.He’s looking for someone to ghostwrite his autobiography.It’s a high-profile project, Ariel.If you do well, it could open a lot of doors for you.”

My heart raced.This was the kind of break I needed.A high-profile project with a billionaire client.But something about the way Gladys said his name gave me pause.“Is there anything I should know about him?Anything specific he’s looking for in a writer?”

Gladys hesitated.Her cold no-nonsense tone softened for a moment.“He’s particular.Demanding.But he’s also fair.If you can handle the pressure, this could be a game-changer for you.Oh, and Ariel, there’s a fifty-thousand-dollar bonus if you meet him and secure the job.”

I nearly dropped the phone.“Fifty thousand dollars?”I squeaked, my voice cracking.“As in five-zero-thousand?”

“Yes.But don’t get too excited yet.You’ll need to impress him first.He doesn’t suffer fools lightly.”

My mind was spinning.Fifty thousand dollars.That was more money than I’d made in the last two years combined.It could pay off my student loans, cover rent for months, and maybe even let me finally upgrade my old laptop.“I’ll impress him,” I said with confidence despite the butterflies in my stomach.“I won’t let this opportunity slip away.”

“Good,” Gladys said.“I’ll send over the details.And Ariel?Good luck.You’re going to need it.”

The line went dead, and I stared at my phone, still processing what had just happened.A high-profile ghostwriting job.A billionaire client.A fifty-thousand-dollar bonus.My stomach churned with a mix of excitement and anxiety.This was it, the big break I’d been waiting for.But it also felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, the wind pushing at my back, daring me to jump.

A wave of doubt crashed over me.What if I’m not good enough?What if I freeze up or say the wrong thing?This could be my one shot, and I can’t afford to blow it.I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.“Okay, Ariel,” I muttered.“You’ve got this.Just don’t mess it up.”

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