‟Are you going to bite me, Mr. Wolf?" She teased.
A chuckle escaped his lips, vibrating against her throat. ‟No. I'm going to devour you."
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Ally Hoodman, is CEO of one of the biggest sweet treat conglomerates in the country; rolling out baked...
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ALLY HOODMAN watched the blood smear from her finger onto one of the white papers strewn across her desk in a very Forensic Files sort of way. Leaving a fingerprint on page two of her quarterly CEO Board Report, right above the financial summary. The important part.
"Fuck...Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
Goddamn paper cuts. Ally shoved her finger into her mouth, trying to wipe away the blood with her other hand, only to spread it further into a wider- albeit faded-smudge. She wouldn't even be doing this if she had Janice, her secretary- aka life line, aka walking calendar-but 'said Jancie' had yet to show up for work this morning with the files. Leaving Ally the arduous task of reprinting and organizing them, less than an hour before the board meeting.
It was barely ten in the morning and already she was having 'a day'. Her red bob of hair puffed around her head like a static ball, courtesy of her hairdryer quitting halfway through this morning- didn't even give two weeks' notice. Then her car, obviously in cahoots with the hairdryer, went on strike with a dead battery, forcing her to flag down a taxi on a Monday morning.... in New York. And after fighting with the printer to jam in a new ink cartridge to get her reports printed in time, she now had a goddamn smudge on page two of one of her packets.
They say bad things come in threes, right? Ally counted four.
She'd printed exactly enough for the board members and handing out some extra DNA with one of her reports seemed unprofessional, and a little unsanitary. If she had any hopes of convincing them to let her keep her position, the report should probably come-sans blood. But she also didn't want to run down the hall to reprint one fucking page; when she was already running late. The conundrum. With a sigh, Ally resolved to give the smudged one to the trust fund kid- little shit deserved it.
Seriously, where is she? If Janice didn't show before noon Ally had half a mind to fire her... Or send a strongly worded email.
Why even bother with a secretary if she wasn't going to show up? She mused at the lack of the mousy, spectacled brunette, puttering about her office. With her long ringlets that somehow knew their place, always coiled tight, unlike Ally's red wavy mop. The ends tickled her shoulders and she couldn't decide if she wanted to let it grow out or chop it all off. She organized the rest of the papers, sliding each into a leather folio. Perhaps she's sick? ...Or dead? But she would have called in, right? The woman, if anything, was at least organized and incredibly punctual. Maybe Janice is having 'a day' too.
The thought was a minor comfort as Ally worried her lip, grabbing the stack of reports- plus one smudged one- when the glass door to her office burst open in a flourish of color and floral perfume. She squeaked in surprise, one-handedly hugging the folios against her chest.
"Ally dear, everyone is waiting for you!" Her grandmother, Elenor Hoodman, Chairwoman of the Hoodman Group, waltzed into the room, draped in a blinding yellow- knee length dress patterned with white flowers and strappy white heels that chimed off the marble floor. Though her modern attire added a flair of youth to mask her age, her white hair, tucked into a neat bun, gave her away. No need to look outside to know it was summer when her grandmother conveniently dressed to match every season.
