Page 1 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Fixer (My Grumpy Werewolf Boss #5)

KRISTA

The Uber peeled away, leaving me alone at a wrought-iron gate that looked like it belonged in a medieval fortress, not a Hollywood hotshot's driveway. Sleek black security cameras swiveled in my direction as I tapped my foot on the pavement, listening to the distant crash of ocean waves against the cliffs below.

The air smelled like salt and money, crisp, expensive, with an undercurrent of something wilder. I shoved the thought away. First rule of crisis management was to never let the client's mythology get in your head.

My fingers twitched toward the folder in my bag. The file contained the latest headlines about my client.

STORM CLOUDS: ACTOR LINKED TO CO-STAR'S FATAL OVERDOSE

The gate unlatched with a click and swung open. I walked up the long driveway to the grand front entrance where a silver-haired housekeeper in a crisp black uniform greeted me.

Inside, the house was a museum of rich-boy gloom. The dark gleaming wood doors and banisters contrasted with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean. Framed posters of Levi's blockbuster films glared down at me like disapproving gods.

"Mr. Storm is working," she warned, voice hushed. "He's volatile today."

I grinned. "I specialize in volatile."

Her lips pursed. "You're the fifth one this month."

"And the first who won't quit." I adjusted my bag, feigning nonchalance. "Where's the beast's lair?"

She led me down a corridor lined with all sorts of awards including Oscars and Golden Globes, all polished to a spiteful shine, before pausing outside a half-open door. Raised voices spilled out.

The housekeeper flinched. I didn't. I'd heard worse from politicians, from rock stars, from my own father after his third whiskey. Anger was just noise. The trick was listening to what lay beneath.

Inside, Levi Storm was mid-meltdown. "I didn't touch those pills, Portia!" A growl slithered under the words, primal enough to raise the fine hairs on my arms. "They were planted, and if the studio thinks dropping me will save their—" His agent's voice screeched through the phone, loud enough that even I could hear it. "Tell them I don't give a damn!" He threw the phone at the wall and the housekeeper scurried away like a startled rabbit. Typical. Everyone in this town treated Levi Storm like a god or a monster. Me? I'd built a career on handling the untouchables.

It bounced and skidded to a halt near my feet, his agent's tinny voice still shouting out of the cracked phone. I stepped over it. "Classy."

I took a deliberate sip of my coffee, scanning him. The tailored shirt stretched across his shoulders was rumpled, the sleeves shoved up to reveal forearms corded with muscle and a thin scar running from wrist to elbow. A real one, not a movie prop. My fingers twitched with the absurd urge to trace it. Down, girl. He's a client. A growly, entitled, unfairly gorgeous client, but still a client.

Levi whirled, his blue eyes flashing with something feral. He was textbook Hollywood alpha male with tousled dark hair, broad elegant shoulders, and a jawline so sharp it could've cut glass. Exactly like his tabloid photos, if the tabloids captured the way his presence vibrated in the air, a predator barely leashed. But up close, Levi Storm was something else entirely. His eyes weren't just striking, they were alive, flickering with a feral intensity that made my pulse flutter. Nope, not noticing that.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Krista Fortune. Your new crisis manager." I set my coffee down on his desk, right on top of a script titled Alpha Redemption. Ironic. "Nice throw. Would've been better if it hit me, pity press never hurts."

His lip curled. "Another PR puppet."

God, he was obnoxious. And yet the way he loomed over me, all restrained power and coiled aggression, sent a ridiculous thrill down my spine.

I leaned in, close enough to catch the scent of bourbon and something wilder. "And you're another spoiled celebrity who thinks tantrums fix scandals." I dropped my folder with a thud. "Here's your obituary. Want to rewrite it, or should I? Your Q-score dropped forty points since Selene Reyes died on your set. Studio stocks? Plummeting. That fantasy franchise you're carrying? It's on life support."

He didn't take the bait. Instead, he inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring. He was scenting me, I realized. It should've repulsed me. So why did my stomach tighten with anticipation? Absolutely not. I didn't do clients, and I sure as hell didn't do entitled alpha wolves.

A low growl rumbled in his chest. "You smell like trouble."

I arched a brow. "And you smell like a man who's about to lose everything."

A low growl rumbled in his chest, deeper than human, the sound reverberating in my ribs like a struck drum. My skin prickled, hyperaware of the way his nostrils flared as he scented me. Jesus. Does he smell the heat blooming across my skin? Focus, Fortune. He's trying to intimidate you.

I crossed my arms. "Here's how this works. You follow my lead, I salvage what's left of your reputation. You fight me?" I shrugged. "Enjoy retirement."

A muscle in his jaw twitched. Then, so fast I barely registered the movement, his claws unsheathed just a fraction, but enough to glint in the light. A growl rumbled from his chest, the kind that sent sane people running. A challenge. A threat. Fine. Two could play that game.

My breath caught. Okay, that's new.

Not the claws. I'd prepped for the whole werewolf thing. No, the problem was the way my body reacted. Blood rushed south filling me with a burst of desire as my skin pebbled under his gaze. It was like my body recognized him before my brain could protest.

I didn't flinch. "Cute party trick. You done?"

His claws retracted. For a heartbeat, his eyes flickered with surprise, then respect. He almost looked impressed, before his mask slammed back down. "Get out."

"Gladly." I turned, but not before snagging his abandoned phone. "Oh, and Levi?" I tossed over my shoulder. "Next time you're framed for murder? Try not leaving evidence lying around."

The screen lit up with a single unread text. My fingers curled around the cracked phone screen before Levi could stop me. The text was from an unsaved number, timestamped the night Selene died.

Unknown: The package is in place.

I raised my gaze to Levi's. His expression darkened, the gold flecks in his blue eyes sharpening. His grip on the desk tightened.

"Explain that," I said, voice low.

He moved so fast that I barely registered it. One second he was by the desk, the next crowding me against the wall. My breath caught in my throat, but I held my ground, pressing the phone between us like a shield.

"Give. It. Back." Each word was a growl, reverberating through my ribs.

I shoved against his chest, but he didn't budge. Heat radiated off him, musk and salt and something that made my pulse stutter. Stupid. Dangerous. I forced my voice steady. "You can snarl all you want, Storm. But if you're innocent, you need me."

His claws retracted, but he didn't step back. The heat of him pressed against me, his breath ragged against my cheek. My traitorous body arched toward him, drawn to the danger in his gaze. Idiot. I shoved harder. "Back. Off."

The phone buzzed between us. His gaze flicked down, and for a heartbeat, I saw it, the raw fear and desperation beneath the fury. That, more than the text, chilled me to the bone.

Another text, same number:

Unknown: Media's asking about the gun. Keep your mouth shut.

Levi stilled. A muscle in his jaw jumped.

I exhaled slowly. "You're being framed."

He didn't deny it.

Ice slid through my veins.

My Uber ride back to my office was a blur of neon and headlights. Levi's phone burned a hole in my bag. The city's glow did little to soften the unease coiling in my gut. Someone had gone to great lengths to set him up, and if they were willing to kill Selene, they wouldn't hesitate to silence anyone digging too deep.

I pressed my forehead to the cool glass, exhaling sharply. What the hell are you doing, Fortune?

This went beyond PR damage control. Texts about guns and media manipulation? Someone had framed Levi for murder. And instead of running, I'd stolen evidence like some movie heroine. My stomach churned. This wasn't just a job anymore. It was a minefield.

The driver's eyes flicked to mine in the rearview mirror. "You okay, miss?"

I straightened, schooling my face into professional calm. "Peachy."

Zane was already waiting when I pushed through the glass doors of Fortune PR, his usual chaos of monitors and snack wrappers a comforting contrast to the cold precision of Levi's world. Zane swiveled in his chair, a half-eaten donut dangling from his fingers. His glasses were smudged, and his hair looked like he'd lost a fight with a seagull. He took one look at my face and dropped the donut.

"That bad, huh?"

I tossed the phone onto his desk. "Worse. He's being framed for murder, apparently."

Zane's brows shot up. He wiped powdered sugar off his fingers and snatched the phone, scrolling through the messages. His smirk faded. "Oh. Oh, this is bad."

"Tell me something I don't know." I dropped into my chair, rubbing my temples. "Someone's setting him up, and they're not being subtle."

Zane whistled low. "You sure it's not him? Rich, powerful, primal wolf predator. Classic villain material."

I shot him a glare. "He's an ass, not an idiot. If he wanted someone dead, he wouldn't leave a trail that could be followed from space."

"Fair." Zane cracked his knuckles and pulled up a dozen screens on his monitors. "Alright, let's see who's playing puppet master." His fingers flew over the keyboard, pulling up industry databases, social media trails, and what looked like police reports.

I leaned over his shoulder. "Tell me you didn't hack the LAPD."

"Relax, I just borrowed a login." He flashed me a grin. "From a cop who really needs to change his password."

I groaned. "We're going to jail."

"Only if we get caught." He tapped the screen. "Look at this." He swung the screen in my direction. "Selene's overdose was all over the news, but the tox report hasn't been released yet. And Levi's name wasn't even in the initial police report. Someone added it later."

My stomach twisted. "So it's not just the media. Someone inside the investigation is manipulating this."

Zane's expression turned grim. "This isn't just a smear campaign, Kris. This is a takedown."

A chill skated down my spine. Levi wasn't just fighting a scandal. He was being hunted.

And if we weren't careful, we'd end up in the crosshairs too.