Bound to the Billionaire

Chapter One: Snow, Cupcakes, and Mates

“He said he’d let me in!” I wiped the sweat from my brow and slammed the rag onto the reception desk. I was in a snowglobe, pretty much, this hotel foyer. Just a whirl of snow thwacking the thick window walls all around me, a blue-black glow danced on the lacquered floor. It was all glittery polished surfaces and velvet drapes. I didn’t belong, but damn it, I was going to, I had to.

“But sir,” the receptionist said, chewing the end of a weighted silver pen, “they’re in the ballroom. Dancing.”

Thwack! Thwack! That was the snow. I shivered. “A promise is a promise. He said my company could cater for his party. This is his party and I’m the caterer. Do you know what I went through for this?'

In the snow, it had taken twenty minutes to drag the pastries in my broken cart out of the back of the van. I was down one dress shoe, a casualty left jammed in the door frame. Probably why I could feel the wind whipping up my hair inside. No way this weedle-eyed woman was kicking me back into the snow. “Look, lady,” I said, clutching my hands to my chest. She gave me a once-over and spat the pen cap out across her keyboard. “This is all I got. I hate to ask a favor, but I’ll pay you back. I promise.”

Her eyes, dull brown, rolled back in her head. She waved over her shoulder past the ‘Asim-Peiffer’ logo behind her. “Your embarrassment,” she said to her computer. “Two lefts. You better bet I’m calling on that favor.”

I arched my back, lifting the hem of my shirt with a quick wink. “Anything for a lady.” I was so damned cold I broke into a sneezing fit as soon as the fabric left my skin. She screwed up her face in what must've been disgust.

“Just go.”

I nodded my thanks and shoved my cart down the dark hall, wincing at every rut the wheels jumped. Unlike the all glass foyer, the hall was all dark, all shadow, leading to a small door at its end. The wolf in me snarled as I threw open the door.

I took in the ballroom relatively quickly while bracing myself in the doorway. Dancers. Chandeliers. Windows. I’d seen it all before, brown walls and black floors arranged in a neat circle under glittering mood lighting. Big-whoop. Like a few chandeliers could intimidate me. Like more money than I’d ever see in my lifetime, like thousand dollar tuxes and sleek, elegant dresses could make me turn away. My eyes only stopped once over the whole scene. On a man. On his lips.

His lips. Pillowy. A touch chapped. I watched how he bit the lower one when he leaned against the ballroom’s frosted window, his chin sunk in his hands, his eyes dark in the shadows cast by the drapes. He stood in a column of watery light, his tailored black suit casting the shadow of a slim profile. When he lifted his eyes, my heart hiccuped in my chest.

I rolled my cart into the ballroom, the stuck wheel screeching on the glossy floor. These were not the first observations I expected to make upon entering the bottom floor ballroom, half-drenched, melting snowflakes caught in my hair. I thought I’d be awed by the rustle of silk dresses, the whisper of suits, the moan of the violin music. I thought I'd be awed that I was sharing space with Nico Asim.

Nico Asim, the shadow of a man who owned most of the globe’s pockets. His cunning hands. His skill with numbers. Billionaire Nico Asim, owner of Asim-Peiffer Management. The legend in the flesh. He’d invited me to cater, or at least, I convinced Asim’s pack affiliate to convince Asim to invite me to cater. But it was the closest I’d ever gotten to a capital ‘B’ billionaire in my life and a little tingle of excitement surged through me like a current despite the whole snow-and-short-sleeve-shirt, budding hypothermia, and missing shoe fiasco.

The man smiled at me from across the ballroom. I glanced down reflexively, hiding a blush when I should’ve raced over to him, begging him to try samples. But I couldn't, because his glance reminded me that I looked like shit.

There I stood, shirt clinging to my skin with sweat and ice, jeans riding low on my hips, apron powdered with flour and sugar and who knew what else. Something buzzed inside me, this warmth creeping into my skin. I looked down at my cart, bit my cheek, and when I lifted my head, he was gone. I leaned back on my heels and sighed, my vision obscured by the crowd.

But his scent persisted. The tension returned to my shoulders. A warm touch of fabric fell over the back of my neck. With a jolt, I ran my fingers over the jacket draped there. It smelled of the man, and it smelled of cologne. Musky. The type of fragrance that had slipped out of style with noir and jazz.

“You’re shivering,” he said, and then he went back to chewing his lip. I stared at the plate of cupcakes on the top rung of the cart to avoid his face and my hiccuping pulse. They were chocolate with strawberry filling, frosted pink and garnished with black sprinkles. He picked up one and peeled away the parchment wrapper. My eyes locked on to his long fingers.

“Guess I am. It’s snowing outside, and I wasn’t dressed for it is all. I’m Dimitri, sir.” I flashed him a smile, observing his face from so close of an angle. The sharp lift of his cheekbones, hooked nose, the way his lean face pulled into a shallow cleft at the chin. His black eyes burned in his face. His hair, brown at the roots and black with richly-scented pomade, slicked to the back of his neck.

The man was beautiful. Fucking beautiful.

A pit had grown in my stomach. It was this lust for this stranger that scared me. And at a corporate party? “I’m opening a location nearby, I…”

He licked the frosting off his fingers. I froze. Something about him was off, something about him was making my wolf turn and turn, growl and whimper inside me. “It’s, I, um. It’s my pride and joy, really. Everything I ever wanted and worked for, and uh, I’m...”

He placed his hand over mine, his skin a patchwork of calluses smoothed over just at the knuckles. My hands had become shaky and sweaty. His eyes were lit up, and we stood there by the door in tremulous silence, his grip tightening and my thoughts racing. Him. Me. Wolf. Heat. Heat smoldered in his grasp. Tightness ratcheted in my chest, like my heart was going to break as it thudded faster, faster still.

He raised an eyebrow and took a tentative sniff. A smile broke over his handsome features. It hit me like a kick to the gut. A word reverberated in me, swam in a shot of adrenaline.

Mate.

I understood. I understood why the world around us felt white and empty, why it whirled like we were knee-to-knee on that hellish Disney teacup ride. I understood why all I was thinking about was him. The muscles which lay beneath his buttoned-up shirt, the way a curl of his hair fell out of place over his forehead, why I wanted him, so suddenly, why I want to run my hands through his hair, to bite that lip he’d been chewing. “...I’m honored t-to be invited here, sir. I wonder what the occasion is, I’ll admit.” I gulped, swallowed, tittered this soft, silvery sound.

My mate. Sweat ran down my brow, my knees bending back in an instinctive revulsion of this beautiful man, the way an animal darts away from a hunter intent on its capture. I didn’t want a mate. I’d done without one for some twenty-something years. I wanted a business. I wanted calculations completed at three in the morning, fizzy energy drinks frothing from my lips. Freedom.

Survival instinct kicked in. I’d forged my loneliness into who I was and this beautiful stranger wouldn't destroy me. “It’s a lovely party, isn’t it, sir?” I lowered my eyelashes, though out of the corner of my eye I saw him staring, a hint of a smile creasing his mouth. “I ought to find Mr. Asim and thank him for inviting me.” There. No need to leave the room. And yet the thought of walking away from the man made my gut cinch. The man destiny had tethered to me. I was a player in a game I didn’t want to be a part of. Yet still, I wanted him, his hands, steady and long-fingered, the teasing warmth of his body, his firm, enticing mouth. His lips looked so thick, so soft.

The man laughed, and it was a breathless, mocking sound. He leaned forward, the heat of his breath touched my cheek, his body suddenly so close I felt each easy breath, each flex and fall of his muscley chest. “I am Mr. Asim, Dimitri.”