Jan jabbed the ballpoint pen on the notepad, wishing for a moment that the paper was the face of the infuriating woman on the other end of the phone.
"I understand your frustration, Mr. Skyvar," she said in a placating tone. "But redirecting funds from the weapons program is not as straightforward as it sounds. It is one of our most profitable ventures, and the other shareholders are not happy about losing such huge margins."
Jan gritted his teeth as he read clearly between the lines. The little wench in Boston who managed his Research & Development portfolio was the most unhappy about his new directive. Probably because she would be losing a lot of commission on the profits.
A door slammed below, and he quirked his ears in that direction, frowning. It was a little early for Ethan to be back from training already. But the steady, heavy footfalls of a confident stride heading into the bedroom confirmed it was the young wolf.
Crap!
"Mr. Skyvar? Are you there?"
The showers turned on, indicating that Ethan was already washing down. Jan dropped the pen on the table, sitting up. He no longer had time to play niceties with the greedy pig on the phone.
"Listen. I own sixty-eight percent shares in this program, which gives me the final say in how it runs. I'm no longer interested in researching weapons to kill Lycans. So here are two options. We can redirect the funds into another useful research and make our profits elsewhere, as I suggested. Or I shut this program down and find someone else who can. If anyone has any objections, I'm certain my brother can make time in his busy schedule to work things out with them. Is that clear?"
A short gasp echoed on the line. "Yes, Mr. Skyvar. Of course. I'm certain no one wants to disturb Mr. Petrovski. I'll see it done."
Jan smirked.
Of course, no one wanted a visit from Ivan. That usually ended with a few broken bones if things did not go the Russian's way.
He hung up the phone without a goodbye and grabbed the bottle next to his notepad. Ignoring the port glass beside it, he tilted his head back and gulped down the rich, coppery contents. It was not as flavorful and refreshing as Ethan's blood, but it nourished him. And his body, thankfully, was no longer rejecting it.
As he downed the rest of his meal, he tried to ignore the reason why he was having dinner early in the first place.
Obviously, it had nothing to do with hiding his food from the wolf downstairs. Having a meal earlier in the evening was good for his metabolism.
Or so he told himself.
The taps in Ethan's bathroom turned off, and Jan swallowed the last few drops. He slammed the empty bottle down and grabbed the phone, jabbing zero with his finger. As he waited for someone in the lobby to pick up his call, he rapped his knuckles on the table.
"Yes, Mr. Skyvar," a male voice answered.
"Matt, kindly send someone to clear my dinner. I'm done."
"Right away, sir," the cheery man answered, but Jan was already hanging up.
He hurried into his own en-suite, pausing in front of the lit mirror. Head tilted, he twisted his neck-tie in the light. The rich burgundy shade seemed morbid against his skin.
Maybe I should wear the silvery-gray silk tie. Louie said it brought out the color of my eyes.
Just as he was about to place a hand on his neck, he caught himself.
What is wrong with you, Andrea? You're just going to talk to him. It's not a fucking date!
He huffed at his reflection and grabbed his toothbrush, layering it liberally with paste. After brushing his teeth, he poured a generous amount of mouthwash and gurgled, making sure to reach all corners and eliminate every last trace of blood.
YOU ARE READING
Blooded Mate
Fantasy[[MATURE CONTENT]] Pack, family, mate. Loyalty, respect, honor. These are the words that form the foundation of the wolf society. At six years old, Ethan had to choose between his Alpha title and his survival on the night of his father's death. As a...
