Page 10 of Her Bossy Wolf Protector

I need this job. I have a mortgage and bills to pay. And after being unemployed for so long, I really need this job. I’m not certain I would quit, even if I did find anything sinister.

The only logical explanation from that night is I just had too much to drink, and I am being paranoid.

With that, I log into my computer. One of my primary responsibilities at Night Corp is to create and manage marketing campaigns that target potential investors. I’ll collaborate closely with our in-house marketing team to develop strategies promoting our investment products and services. These campaigns will involve a mix of online and offline marketing efforts.

One of the exciting projects I’ll be working on is the launch of a new investment product called “WealthBloom.” This innovative offering is a blend of socially responsible investments and sustainable growth. My role in this project includes developing a comprehensive marketing plan to introduce WealthBloom to the market. This involves conducting market research, identifying the target audience, and creating compelling marketing materials like brochures, online ads, and social media content.

I’ll also be involved in revamping Night Corp’s website. Our online presence is crucial. My task is to work closely with the web development team to enhance the user experience and ensure that our website effectively communicates the benefits of our investment services. This includes refining the website’s layout, optimizing content for search engines, and making it more user-friendly.

An ongoing project that intrigues me is the analysis of market trends and competition. One of our leading competitors is Hilgard Investment Properties. It’s vital for Night Corp to stay ahead in the financial sector, and I’ll be responsible for conducting in-depth market research. I’ll keep an eye on how our competitors position themselves, which strategies work for them, and where there may be gaps or opportunities for Night Corp to excel.

I feel like I have a lot of responsibility, but I am ready for it. But I have my work cut out for me, and the last thing that should be on my mind is my strange CEO.

By the end of the day, I’m completely drained, and my stomach is growling. I wrap up my work at the office and as I leave, I decide to call Alyssa. Again, it goes straight to voicemail. This is not like her. Something is wrong. Frustration and concern wash over me, so I decide to leave her another message.

“Hey, Alyssa, it’s me. I’ve been trying to reach you, and I’m getting a bit worried. Is something wrong? Are you mad at me? You’re my best friend; we can’t be mad at each other. Call me back, please.”

I hang up and head home, feeling exhausted.

As soon as I step through my front door, I head straight for the shower. It’s always a welcome way to unwind. Now in my favorite comfy, pink robe, I can think about food. Dinner tonight is simple - some quick noodles to curb my hunger and then collapse onto the sofa, laptop in hand.

I want to research Gabriel Night, but I am also trying to delay that as much as possible.

I need something to help me relax, so I turn on Netflix and get lost in the world of Grey’s Anatomy. It’s a great way to take my mind off things for a while.

That keeps me distracted for a few hours, but I can’t keep avoiding the subject. I am not going to truly rest until I get to the bottom of it all.

I pick up my phone and start searching for websites with information about werewolves. Within minutes, I find myself tumbling down a rabbit hole of myths and legends. Stories of mystical wolves, ancient rituals, and enigmatic creatures fill my screen.

Eventually, at about one a.m., I decide to give my brain a break by logging off and heading to bed.

As I drift off to sleep that night, my dreams are dark and nightmarish. I see fangs and bloody teeth. It’s all very unsettling, and the images play out like a vivid movie in my mind. But what’s even more peculiar, is that in the midst of these eerie scenes, I see a pair of piercing yellow-ringed eyes. They are familiar, and I know who they belong to even in sleep.

The dreams leave me feeling slightly disturbed, and by morning, I am more agitated than ever.

As I walk into the meeting room, my mind is far from the discussion at hand. I’m supposed to be focused on the new venture, WealthBloom, and the investment partners seated around the polished mahogany table. Instead, my thoughts keep drifting back to that strange encounter in the dark alley, and I can’t seem to shake off this unsettling feeling.

The conference room is quite large, with state-of-the-art furniture and equipment. I feel a little overwhelmed by the wealth and power gathered in this space. Everyone seems to be dressed in expensive suits, but I am in a simple white button-up shirt and black slacks. I’ve owned these items since I was just out of high school. I feel like an imposter.

The partners discuss numbers, strategies, and projections with an air of confidence and self-assuredness that’s a bit intimidating to me, being the newbie. And in addition to that, I can feel Gabriel’s eyes on me. I do my best to listen and try to ignore him as much as possible. Some partners present their thoughts before Gabriel takes the lead.

I remember his eyes from that night in the alley, and how those same eyes haunted my nightmares last night.

From the corner of my eye, I can see him studying me. I can feel his eyes on me.

What exactly is he hiding from me? I need to know.

As the meeting continues, I can’t resist the temptation any longer. I discreetly pull out my phone and start a Google search for monsters and werewolves. I know it might not be the wisest move, given that I’m using the company’s Wi-Fi, but I can’t help myself. I have to know the truth. Gabriel can pretend all he wants, but I know what I saw.

There’s an undeniable urge to uncover the truth, to find some explanation for what I witnessed. I discreetly glance at my phone as they continue the discussion.

My fingers tap away at the screen, as I try to maintain the impression that I am paying attention. I scroll through various websites and articles, each filled with different accounts and legends about creatures that don’t belong in the realm of reality. I’m conflicted; a part of me thinks I must be delusional, while another part insists that what I saw was all too real. There has to be an explanation for what I saw.

I’m in the middle of reading about a Celtic witch’s wolven sacrifice when my attention is called back to the meeting.

“Ms. Easton?” he says, his voice laced with a commanding authority that stiffens my spine.

My head snaps up. “Yes?” I ask.

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