Chapter Three
Juliette cursed her decision not to install the joke gift Noelle had given her last Christmas. It was a little plastic console that one mounted on one’s dashboard with three big red buttons that made noises when one pushed them. One was a laser, one was a photon torpedo, and one was for a nuclear warhead. Traffic was so infuriating as she drove to Wilhelm’s office, she could have used a few weapons to blow other drivers out of her way.
“Much road rage, super wow,” Noelle had joked once when they left the shop together for a bit of retail therapy. And then she’d given her the joke weapon as a gift.
Juliette took a few deep breaths, trying not to let the slow crawl of cars get to her. After all, she needed to calm down as much as possible, even while she was still vibrating with anger about the rent hike and the curious timing of that letter and Wilhelm’s latest expansion proposal. If she didn’t get ahold of herself, she’d simply rage at him, and she had a strong suspicion that he wasn’t a tiger who appreciated such displays.
She needed to be logical, collected, and cool. Even when he half-grinned at her and licked his bottom lip like he had a habit of doing.
Juliette growled and shook her head. No, she was not going to let the gorgeous sight of him deter her. She was stronger than that. Yeah. Hardcore.
When she finally got to his office building, she thought she might have a fight on her hands to even be allowed to his floor without an appointment. After all, Wilhelm Sorenson was a big shot. God knew people like him didn’t commingle with commoners. She decided she’d make a scene right then and there that might prompt him to come down to see her, if necessary.
To her surprise, the receptionist at the first desk gave her a little clip-on badge that read “Guest” and pointed her toward the elevators.
She was thrown after expecting an argument. “I can go up . . . just like that?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the woman said, typing into her computer as she spoke. “You’re on the list of VIPs who don’t need an appointment to see Mr. Sorenson. You’re to be allowed up at any time.”
Well. This was unexpected. Juliette thanked her and headed for the elevator. Was that because she rented from Wilhelm’s property management company? Or because he was so presumptuous to think she might just show up one day and take him up on one of his many dinner-date offers?
Why that slimy scu—
Chill, Juliette. She calmed herself as she felt her incisors push through her gums. She was quite pissed as she rode up in the elevator, sure it was a case of Wilhelm simply assuming she couldn’t resist him. Calm, cool, collected, Juliette. Stick to the facts.
She’d only ever been to this office once to sign the lease paperwork, but today it was nothing like it was then. Then, it was a noisy place with people bustling to and fro, talking and laughing, and Gunther, Wilhelm’s beta, flirting with her a mile a minute as he showed her to Wilhelm’s door. Today, there was only the sound of shuffling papers and a phone ringing. Gunther sat at the first desk she saw with a person behind it, his handsome face pale and pinched.
He glanced up to see her approaching, his eyes flashing with golden glitter for a split second before they returned to deep reddish-brown. “Ms. Crabtree, how are you?” He smiled and reached for her hand, and even that seemed a strain for him. She wondered if Wilhelm was having some kind of business crisis, because everything about Gunther and the office felt so grim.
“Just Juliette, please. I’m here to see Wilhelm. It’s urgent.”
“I’m sorry, but now is not a good time. Perhaps I can help you instead?”
He looked so downtrodden that she almost gave in, but then she remembered how she’d felt when she’d opened that letter. “I’m afraid I need to speak directly to him.”
“Juliette . . . today is—”
“I came all the way across town, and I am on his VIP list. The least you could do is let him know I’m here so he can decide whether he can see me?” She didn’t care if there was a business crisis today. She was having an anger crisis over the idea that he might hold doubling her rent over her head to get her to open a new shop.
Gunther sighed and lifted the phone out of its cradle. He pushed a button and waited with his eyes closed. “Wilhelm, Juliette Crabtree is here to see you. I told her it was a bad time, but—yes—yes, I will.” Gunther shook his head. “I’m sorry, Juliette. He wants me to express his regret and promises—”
Juliette hurried around Gunther’s desk and stormed for Wilhelm’s door. She’d worked up her ire and her courage, and she wasn’t going to leave there until she spoke her mind. Rawr!
“Wait,” Gunther said, rushing after her, but she was smaller and faster, and had pushed Wilhelm’s door open before he reached her.
“I’m so sorry, Wilhelm,” Gunther said, taking her arm as if to pull her away. But she was frozen in place at the sight of a baby crib next to Wilhelm’s desk.
A baby crib.
With a baby in it.
“It’s all right. I’ll handle this,” Wilhelm said, the high back of his leather chair facing them. Gunther left, closing the door behind him. Wilhelm didn’t immediately turn, so Juliette took a few steps forward, and a baby’s cry vibrated through the room.
But the baby in the crib was sleeping.
Wilhelm spun his chair so that he faced Juliette. He held a small baby in his arms, bawling at the top of her lungs. The infant was actually a werecub: she had small, striped feline ears poking out beneath the wispy clouds of cornsilk hair and her tail whipped out beneath her pink onesie. Other than that, werecub looked just like humans’ babies. At that moment, the cub’s face was splotchy and red from tears. She had healthy lungs. Her screams could induce a migraine in minutes.
Goodness! Juliette blinked. How come I didn’t notice a baby crying earlier? Either Wilhelm’s office is sound-proofed or I’m so totally consumed with a bone to pick with him, I ignored my surroundings.
Juliette’s eyes drifted to the man she was ready to give a good scolding. Usually the Mr. Impeccably-dressed, Wilhelm looked as if he had been put through a wringer. His jacket suit crinkled around the lapels and his tie was undone. There was dampness on one spot that the bawling cub might have used as a napkin. Wilhelm plucked the pacifier that had fallen out of the cub’s mouth and gave it back to her. It quieted her down instantly. She still sniffled and squirmed as if she was upset she couldn’t get comfortable. Wilhelm raised his red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes to Juliette.
“I’m sorry, Juliette. Now is really not a good time.”
They stared at each other for a few seconds, Juliette unsure what to say or do or how to handle seeing Wilhelm so . . . vulnerable. He looked so different than the man she saw that morning.
The baby in the crib wriggled, took a deep breath, and wailed. Wilhelm jumped up and carefully lay the sleeping baby in the crib next to the crying one, then picked up the baby boy and cradled him the same way he’d held the little girl.
It was clear he wasn’t used to holding babies because he seemed so lost and unsure of what he was doing. He rocked the child a few moments, and it quieted to small sobs and snuffles, until the baby girl in the crib realized she was no longer being held and began to cry too.
My goodness.
Wilhelm looked like he didn’t know what to do. He arranged the boy in one arm as he bent over to attempt to pick up the girl in his other one. Juliette hurried forward and gently lifted the baby girl, a hand supporting her neck and head, the other arm under her body, to help him. “Here,” she said, but instantly the baby stopped crying.
She’d babysat distant cousins as a teen, and had a lot of experience with babies. Experience she’d hoped to use with her own one day.
Juliette pulled the girl close, let her head rest in the crook of her elbow, and held her against her body the way Wilhelm held the baby boy. She breathed deeply, that sweet baby smell making her heart ache and her eyes tear up. It felt so natural, so right, and it ripped open a wound deep inside of her.
“Juliette?” Wilhelm said softly.
She blinked away her tears, feeling foolish. “I’m sorry for intruding, Wilhelm. I didn’t realize you had children, and—”
“I don’t,” he said quickly. “Or . . . I didn’t. I . . . I don’t know. These are my brother’s cubs.”
“So you’re babysitting your niece and nephew . . . at your office?” It felt wrong as the words came out, but she couldn’t imagine what else it could be. The situation was kind of weird. Couldn’t he get one of his employees experienced with babies to look after them?
“I wouldn’t feel right in Halgar’s home, and the office is the place I’m most comfortable, the place I think best. This is the place easiest for me to make plans and figure things out.” He raised his eyes to Juliette, and while he still looked distraught, she could see the strength and determination underneath. “My brother and his wife died in a car crash this morning. And now I have to figure out how I’m going to take care of their babies.”