Filthy rich werewolves by Taylor Caine

Chapter 67

“What!?!” Brian is incredulous.

”The management has passed down instructions that we're not to approve any write-up about Grace

Cummins," the editor replies.

Brian asks in amazement, "Is the Stevens or Atkinson family behind this?" It didn't make any sense to

him. When he had written about Lily earlier on, the editor had approved his news. However, he was not

allowed to write anything about Grace!

"It's not them. That's enough, don't ask any more questions. In any case, if this piece of news gets

released, not only will you lose your job as a reporter, but I will be sacked as well!”

Brian rubs his eyes. To say he was shocked is an understatement. What the editor had said... seems

too much of an exaggeration.

"Grace... is merely a sanitation worker. Who would want to protect her?"

"You're too young. In this world, there are many things beyond your imagination," the editor replies with

a sigh. “But take my advice on this… leave it alone.”

* * * * * * * * * Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

JASON

I watch Grace putting away the utensils. ”I heard that the woman who told you to search for her ring

has gone to the Sanitation Service Center to offer her apologies."

"Yes," Grace replies, "but I have given her gift to Claire."

"Did you see Sean? I saw from the news that he showed up with his fiancee, Lily.” I’m keeping my

voice calm and acting like i’m focused on helping with the dishes, but I’m watching Grace carefully for

her reaction.

I count the pulse in her neck.

I breathe in her scent for any traces of adrenaline or fear—if she’s lying or hiding something.

"Yes, I saw him," Grace replies. Her breathing rate doesn’t change nor does her heart rate. She looks

calm, as though she was talking about someone who was of no concern to her.

“How do you feel? Did seeing Sean again make you sad?”

She looks a me. Her eyes are wide and innocent. “I think I know what you’re getting at.” She smiles

softly. "Jay, are you worried about me? Don't worry. Please. I promise you, I would not grieve over such

a man."

"Worried?"

Grace lifts her hand to my face. I don’t normally permit people to touch me, least of all my face or

without me initiating the contact. But recently, she was doing this more frequently. A pat on the hand, a

caress on my shoulder.

And dont’ even get me started on my wolf…

The bastard loves the way she pets him.

Not continuously to be annoying. Just the occasional rub or pet and then she just cuddles up next to

the big beast, content to be near him.

Okay, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the feel of her hands on me. Even if it’s a touch so innocent as

tucking his hair back.

“Jay, Sean is nothing to me. I will not be sad over someone who doesn't love me. If I were sad, it would

mean I still loved him."

I search her eyes trying to discern if she’s saying that because she thinks she is supposed to or if she

really means it.

“Truly,” she insists. “I’m glad I no longer feel anything at all when I saw him. And I’m even more glad

that I didn’t marry Sean back then.”

“Oh? Wouldn’t your life have been much easier if he’d supported you? You might be married to him

right now and not have to work a day.”

“That’s not a benchmark for happiness,” she argues. “And I don’t mind work. I miss being an attorney.

What I meant,” Grace says, “if my emotions could fade, then they were not that strong to begin with.”

“Hmm.”

Her statement rings true to me.

And, if I’m being honest with myself, I can point to similar relationships.

“Sean revealed his true nature. And for that, I am grateful. It was a blessing to know that he was not the

man for me.”

Conflict, hardships, loss…they are what defined us.

Grace had been dealt a terrible hand, but she’d risen above it. Maybe not financially, as she was

strapped to a low-income job and living in a low-income apartment, but she was determined to be

positive. And happy.

That was more than I could say for most of the people who run in my circles. Both figuratively and

literally.

My familial pack is strong and we ensure the success of each member. It’s what has limited the in-

fighting and what guarantees a strong sense of unity. But there are those that want more. That

squander the resources and their opportunities.

Still, something of what she’d said has me wondering… “Sister, will you feel sad for me one day?"

It wasn’t fair he realized, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to possess her attention—even her negative

emotions.

Grace gasps.

I know what I’m asking her.

”Will you?" I move, crowing her.

I watch her pupils dilate and the way her pulse skitters at the base of her throat. She sucks a tiny

breath.

When her gaze fixes on mine, I see all the things she tries to hide from me. Her hope, her desire. Her

uncertainty.

"I... what I meant earlier was, if I loved a person, I would be sad. However, Jay, you're my brother..."

Grace replies.

"Can't you love your brother?" I ask. I use my knuckles to lift up her chin and angle closer so she

knows my intentions. “We are, after all, family…”