Karl ignored the women, but if any man looked my way, Karl met each furtive glance with a level stare. Establishing territory. It didn’t mean anything. He’d do the same with any woman at his side—friend, lover or acquaintance. The wolf peeking out.

The lobby itself was spectacular but not ostentatious, and that’s not an easy look to achieve, no matter how much money you spend. The foyer was large without being cavernous. Dark doors blocked the sun and good soundproofing muffled the street sounds, plunging the visitor into a peaceful oasis, complete with two walls of aquariums, a ten-foot-square “sand garden” with a half-toppled castle, a wall fountain, driftwood benches and a handsome young man gliding about with a tray of iced water.

Those milling about the foyer were mostly tourists. Human tourists, probably here to check out the nineteenth-floor observatory. All good public relations. To them, Cortez Cabal was simply Cortez Corporation—a huge company like any other.

As Karl veered toward the front desk, I excused myself to get a closer look at one aquarium. I knew how Karl planned to get past the receptionist and a man’s charm is always more effective when he doesn’t have a woman at his side.

Before I could leave, his grip tightened on my elbow, holding me back as he surveyed the area—his gaze touching on and evaluating everyone in the lobby. Again, typical werewolf, however much he denies it.

As I admired the fish, I watched Karl’s reflection in the aquarium glass. He was talking to the receptionist, doing nothing as blatant as flirting, simply giving her his undivided attention. She fell for it. They all do. Of course, I’m not one to talk.

A few minutes later the receptionist sent us, with a security guard escort, to a private elevator. We stopped on the top floor. Judging by the generous use of marble and the bank of receptionists and secretaries, I guessed it was the executive level.

“This man insists on speaking to Benicio Cortez. He wouldn’t state his business.”

The receptionist on duty there glowered at the guard, as if to say that we should never have gotten past the front desk. The guard pretended not to notice, probably already preparing his “I did what I was told” defense when this breach of protocol was investigated. Blame would fall on the lobby receptionist, and I felt bad about that, but if she could be so easily swayed by a good-looking charmer, she shouldn’t be in charge of the main gate.

The receptionist turned to Karl. “And you would be…?”

“An emissary, here on behalf of my Alpha.”

“Alpha? You mean—”

The receptionist exchanged a glance with the guard, who took a slow step back from Karl before stopping himself. Karl’s lips twitched, fighting a smile.

“Hector Cortez is in,” the receptionist said. “That’s Mr. Cortez’s—”