The Wolf in a Suit
529 Words
Onika
He doesn't even bother to stand up when I walk in, doesn't smile either.
This conference room is all glass and silent. The Johannesburg view sprawls behind him, tiny and irrelevant. He is the only thing in the room that matters like he embodies the whole room and my brain taking notice of that.
"Sit down Miss...?" His voice is rough and dreamy like it's expensive.
"Onika Ma... , Onika Vele" I was this close to saying Mabaso, my real surname. I slide into the chair opposite him. It's too big or am just too small. The leather is freaking cold through my jeans.
His eyes scroll up and down my body but he doesn't have any expressions but I know he is judging me.
"Miss Vele you're early, yet your dressed like you're going to the club not a job interview"
Heat crawls down my back "With all due respect Mr Blackthorne, my qualifications aren't in my closet. I'll outwork anyone in a suit"
That earns me something, not a smile though. A pause. His nostrils flare up like he is smelling the air.
Weird.
"Bold" He leans back. The seam of his black suit stretches across his shoulders that have no business being in an office. There's a scar cutting through his left eyebrow. CEO's don't have scars though. "Tell me miss Vele why accountant and why in imports and exports."
I open my mouth trying to explain but nothing is coming out of my mouth.
Instead the jar filled with water in front of me tips.
It all happens in a slow motion - the jar, the arc of water, the contract in front of him about to be ruined.
He moves.
One second he is on the other side of the table, the next his hand is around my wrist stopping me from grabbing the jar. While the jar is on his other hand. Not a drop spilled.
Nobody on this earth moves like fast like that, I mean nobody.
His thumb is moving slowly on my pulse point. And something in me wakes up.
It's not a feeling. It's a sound, a howl of something ancient. My vision whites out at the edges.
"MATE"
My wolf, the one I buried at sixteen - just claimed a stranger. Am goin to be sick.
I didn't say that, this thing in me said that. It's older than me. Hungrier than me.
His eyes, they were gray. Steel gray. Now they are burning, they're black with red flames in the middle. My brain screams PREDATOR. For one heartbeat, then gone. Back to Gray. Back to Cold.
He drops my wrist like I just burnt him.
"You're dismissed, Miss Vele." His voice is rougher now. A warning to leave without looking back.
I don't remember getting up and walking to the door, I don't even remember getting in the elevator. My phone buzzes in my hand
FROM : A BLACKTHORNE, BLACKTHORNE EXPORTS
SUBJECT : You start Monday 08:00. Don't be late.
The doors slide shut. But I can see that he is watching me go. He doesn't move. He doesn't have to. Predators don't chase. They wait.
- Writer
