Little Rabbit

I sat on the edge of the hotel bed, my ankle propped up on a stack of pillows, staring at a container of lukewarm Pad Thai. Outside, the Seattle rain was still hammering against the glass, blurring the city lights into streaks of neon and grey.

My mind, however, wasn't on the rain. It was stuck on the memory of electric amber eyes and the smell of pine and earth.

I took a bite of noodles, chewing mechanically. Levi Cohen.

I knew who he was now. The billionaire client. The "Wolf." And apparently, the man who could move fast enough to dodge a hydroplaning car. My shoulder gave a phantom throb, a dull ache that hadn't subsided since he touched me.

A sharp knock at the door made me jump.

I hobbled over, checking the peephole. It was a bellhop, holding a matte black box tied with a silver ribbon.

"Delivery for Ms. Brooks," he said when I opened the door.

"I didn't order anything."

"A gentleman left it at the front desk, ma'am. He said it was urgent."

I took the box, tipped the guy a few dollars, and locked the door. The box was heavy. Expensive. The cardboard felt like velvet.

I sat back on the bed and pulled the ribbon. Inside, nestled in black tissue paper, was a pair of black leather ankle boots. They were stunning; sleek, understated, and unmistakably designer. The red soles gave them away immediately. Christian Louboutin.

My breath hitched. The heels I had been wearing when I fell were ruined, the leather scuffed and one heel snapped clean off. These were... an upgrade. A massive upgrade.

There was a card tucked into the tissue paper. Heavy stock, embossed with a simple monogram: L.C.

I noticed your heel broke. Unacceptable for Seattle terrain. I expect to see them in use at lunch tomorrow. 1:00 PM. The Aurelia.

Below that, a phone number.

My heart did a traitorous little flip in my chest. This was insane. He was the client. I was the auditor sent to dig through his company's financial laundry. I couldn't accept four-figure shoes from the CEO.

I grabbed the hotel phone, dialed the number on the card before I could talk myself out of it.

"Brooks."

His voice was deep, a rumbling baritone that bypassed my ear and vibrated straight down my spine. He didn't say 'Hello'. He just knew.

"Mr. Cohen," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I can't accept these."

"Do they fit?"

"That's not the point. They're too expensive. And it's a conflict of interest. I'm auditing your company, I can't be taking gifts."

"It's not a gift. It's a replacement for property damaged on my watch," he said smoothly. I could hear the faint scratch of a pen in the background. "And if you return them, I'll just buy the store and have them send you everything in your size. Don't test me, Maya."

Maya. The way he said my name made my toes curl.

"I'll write you a check," I countered. "I'll pay you back."

"We can discuss terms at lunch."

"I have work to do, Mr. Cohen. Mrs. Vance has me drowning in spreadsheets."

"I own the building, Maya. I think I can clear your schedule for an hour. The Aurelia. Don't be late."

The line went dead.

I stared at the receiver, mouth agape. He had hung up on me. The arrogant, presumptuous, infuriatingly attractive man.

I looked at the boots. They were beautiful.

"Fine," I muttered to the empty room. "One lunch. Then I write the check."

The next morning, Mrs. Vance was icier than usual. She dropped three new binders on my desk at 8:00 AM and didn't speak a word.

I spent four hours cross-referencing vendor payments. The discrepancies were getting weirder. Large payments to a construction firm for a "Security Outpost" in the middle of the Cascade mountains. Payments for "Dietary Supplements" that cost more than a small car.

At 12:30, I retreated to the restroom to fix my hair. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was wearing the green blouse Ivy had packed, and yes, I was wearing the boots. They fit perfectly. Like they were made for me.

I pulled out my phone, fully charged now and speed-dialed Ivy.

"Tell me everything," she answered immediately. "Did you meet the wolves?"

"I met Levi Cohen," I whispered, checking the stalls to make sure I was alone.

"Shut up. The Boss? Is he hot?"

"Ivy, he's... he's ridiculous. He saved me from getting hit by a car last night."

"He what?"

"Long story. But he bought me Louboutins and now he's forcing me to go to lunch."

"Forcing you? With Louboutins?" Ivy scoffed. "That sounds like a kidnapping I would sign up for. Maya, listen to me. Forget the audit. Marry him. Secure the bag."

"I'm going to write him a check and keep it professional," I said firmly. "He's the client."

"You're boring. Call me after."

The Aurelia was located on the penthouse floor of a neighboring skyscraper. It was the kind of place that didn't put prices on the menu because if you had to ask, you shouldn't be there.

The hostess didn't ask for my name. She just looked at me, spotted the boots, and nodded.

"Right this way, Miss Brooks."

She led me through a dining room filled with Seattle's elite; tech moguls, politicians, and socialites. But she walked past the main floor, leading me to a semi-private alcove by the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Puget Sound.

He was there.

Levi stood as I approached. He was wearing a charcoal suit today, the jacket discarded over the back of his chair, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar to reveal a glimpse of tanned throat.

He looked predatory. That was the only word for it. He watched me walk across the room like a tiger watching a gazelle.

"You wore them," he said, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Only because my other shoes are broken," I lied, setting my bag down. "Mr. Cohen."

"Levi," he corrected, pulling out my chair. His hand brushed my shoulder as I sat, and a spark of static electricity snapped between us. My scar gave a sharp, warning throb.

"Levi," I tested the name. It felt heavy on my tongue.

He sat opposite me. "I took the liberty of ordering. I hope you like steak."

"I usually eat a salad for lunch."

He frowned, genuinely offended. "You're too thin. You need protein."

"I'm an auditor, not a linebacker."

"Steak," he said with finality.

The waiter appeared instantly, pouring sparkling water and placing a plate of beef carpaccio between us.

"So," Levi said, leaning back and studying me with those unnerving amber eyes. "Tell me about Maya Brooks. Why does an auditor smell like..." He stopped himself, his jaw tightening.

"Like what?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "You said that last night."

"Like vanilla," he recovered smoothly, though his eyes said something else entirely. "And rain."

I blushed, looking down at my water. "I don't know. Maybe it's my shampoo."

"Where are you from, Maya?"

"San Francisco. But I grew up in Oregon."

"Ah. That explains why you don't use an umbrella."

"I had an umbrella. The wind killed it."

The main course arrived. A filet mignon, rare, practically bloody. Levi had a massive ribeye that looked raw. He cut into it with precise, savage grace.

"How is the audit going?" he asked casually, popping a piece of meat into his mouth.

I hesitated. "It's... interesting. Mrs. Vance is very thorough."

"Isla is a pitbull," Levi said. "But she hides things. I hired your firm because I want to know what she's hiding."

I paused, my fork halfway to my mouth. "You hired us? I thought Mrs. Vance requested the audit."

"I requested it. Through a shell company." Levi’s gaze sharpened. "I suspect funds are being diverted. I need someone outside the... pack... to find the trail."

"The pack?"

"The inner circle," he corrected quickly. "I need you to dig, Maya. Don't let Isla scare you. If you find something… anything, you bring it to me directly. Not to her. Not to your boss back in San Francisco. To me."

"Is that why you bought me shoes? A bribe?"

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that made the couple at the next table look over. "If I wanted to bribe you, Maya, I'd buy you a house. The shoes were just... an impulse. I don't like seeing things that belong to me broken."

My heart hammered. Belong to me?

"I don't belong to you, Mr. Cohen. I'm a contractor."

"Levi," he corrected again, his voice dropping an octave. "And we'll see."

I reached into my bag and pulled out the envelope containing the check I had written. "I can't accept the shoes, Levi. Here."

I slid the envelope across the table.

He didn't even look at it. He just stared at me, his eyes swirling with gold flecks. "I don't accept returns."

"It's a check. For the full amount."

"Keep it."

"I insist."

"And I refuse."

We were locked in a staring contest. The air between us crackled with tension, thick and heavy. I felt heat rising in my neck, right where the scar was hidden.

"Levi."

A woman's voice shattered the moment.

I turned. Standing at the entrance of our alcove was a woman who looked like she had walked out of a Vogue photoshoot. She was tall, with platinum blonde hair and eyes that were a piercing, icy blue. She wore a white dress that fit her like a second skin.

Behind her stood a man who looked like a younger, rougher version of Levi. Asher Cohen.

"Seraphina," Levi said. His voice went cold, the warmth vanishing instantly. "I'm busy."

"We need to talk," the woman said, ignoring me completely. "The Council is meeting tonight. They're asking about the Northern Territory."

"I'm having lunch," Levi growled. A literal growl. It was soft, but I heard it.

Asher stepped forward, his eyes darting to me. He sniffed the air, his nose wrinkling. He looked at Levi, then at me, his eyes widening in shock.

"Levi," Asher warned. "Is that...?"

"Not now, Ash," Levi snapped.

The woman, Seraphina, finally looked at me. Her gaze was cold, assessing, and utterly dismissive. "I didn't realize you brought a pet to lunch."

I stood up, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. Anger flared in my chest—hot and sudden.

"I'm not a pet," I said, my voice shaking slightly. "I'm the auditor. And I was just leaving."

I grabbed my bag. I looked at Levi. He looked torn, his hands clenched into fists on the table, the knuckles white.

"Maya, sit down," Levi commanded.

"No. I have spreadsheets to get back to." I shoved the check under his water glass. "Thanks for the steak."

I walked past Seraphina and Asher. As I passed Asher, he leaned in, whispering loud enough for only me to hear.

"Run while you can, sweetheart."

I didn't look back. I marched out of the restaurant, my new red-soled boots clicking sharply against the marble floor, wondering what the hell kind of mess I had just walked into.