Chapter 3

Elsa

The Valtor family estate rivals the Stone mansion in grandeur, though it lacks the aggressive architecture. Old Mr. Valtor’s 70th birthday celebration is filled with pack elites, and his displeasure at Drake’s absence is evident in his furrowed brow.

“Drake couldn’t make it?” he asks after my third toast to his health. My liver’s going to fail before this night is over.

“Urgent business matter,” I lie smoothly, maintaining my professional smile. Yeah, the urgent matter of getting his dick wet with his new plaything. “He sends his deepest regrets and this gift.” I present an antique watch that I’d selected myself.

Mr. Valtor grunts, somewhat appeased. “At least he sent his competent assistant.”

At least someone recognizes competence when they see it. His son, Mike Valtor, appears at my elbow. “Father, let me show Ms. Hale the new eastern wing. I’m sure she’d appreciate the architecture.”

The old man waves us away, and I follow Mike, knowing this is my chance to address the report issue. Focus, Elsa. Get the job done and get out. Mike leads me down a hallway to a private study, closing the door behind us.