Page 14 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Maid (My Grumpy Werewolf Boss #6)

DEAN

The sterile antiseptic and chemicals couldn't mask Nina's sweet essence. I paced restlessly as I watched her sleep in Dr. Wu's clinic, each slow beep of the heart monitor both reassuring and a source of torment. Bruises darkened her throat, each mark a stark reminder of how close we'd come to losing her. My wolf threatened to emerge every time I looked at those bruises. Even though Sean was already dead, I howled for revenge.

"The throat swelling has decreased significantly," Dr. Wu murmured, checking Nina's vitals with practiced efficiency. "No complications from the concussion, and the bullet graze is healing cleanly."

A warning growl rumbled in my chest when she touched the bandage on Nina's ribs.

Dr. Wu's steady gaze met mine, unimpressed. "If you're quite finished posturing, I need to check her stitches."

I forced my wolf back, though its protective instincts still stirred beneath my skin. "Sorry."

"She's strong," Dr. Wu said, gentler now. "Stronger than you give her credit for."

"I know." Pride and love swelled in my chest. "Believe me, I know."

Nina's fingers twitched against the sheets, her brow furrowing as consciousness returned. My heart leaped when her eyelashes fluttered, desperate for that first glimpse of green. The mate bond, which had been a dull ache while she slept, burst into vibrant life as her gaze found mine.

"Dean?" Her voice was rough, but it was the sweetest sound I'd ever heard.

I was beside her instantly, carefully taking her hand. Her fingers were warm now, nothing like the terrifying coldness I'd felt after the fight. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

"Like I went ten rounds with a wolf," she said with a weak smile, then winced. "Oh wait, I did."

My throat clenched. I brought her hand to my lips, kissing each knuckle like a prayer.

"I dreamed," she whispered, a tremor in her voice.

"I'm here," I assured her, pressing my forehead to hers. "We're both here. We made it. Rest, Nina."

While Nina slept, Jenkins updated me on the penthouse situation. Apparently, my AI had made an executive decision during the crisis.

"I took the liberty of contacting Mrs. Abernathy," Jenkins informed me. "Given the extensive redecorating you performed in your office, sir, I calculated she would be the most efficient solution."

I winced, remembering the destruction my wolf had unleashed. "You called my elderly neighbor to clean up after a wolf rampage?"

"Mrs. Abernathy proved surprisingly capable," Jenkins replied, a hint of admiration in his artificial voice. "She arrived with industrial cleaning supplies and three decades of experience removing what she termed unfortunate stains from various surfaces. She was also quite discreet."

I watched the security feed in disbelief as Mrs. Abernathy, all four-foot-eleven of her, marched through my destroyed office like a general inspecting troops.

"No, no, that won't do at all," her crisp voice carried through the feed. "The blood has already set into the grain. We'll need the industrial enzyme cleaner for that section. Maria, be a dear and fetch my special kit."

She paused at my shredded desk, clicking her tongue. "Werewolves," she muttered, pulling out her phone. "Always so dramatic. Antonio? Yes, I need that mahogany piece we discussed. The one from Milan. Rush delivery, if you please. And send extra polish, the good stuff."

My wolf's jaw dropped. Just how many supernatural cleanup jobs had my elderly neighbor handled?

"She left fresh cookies in the kitchen," Jenkins added. "And strict instructions for Ms. Sorenson to rest properly when she returns home."

Perhaps I'd underestimated the fierce little woman who always smelled of baking and lavender.

"Remind me to send her something nice," I muttered, turning back to watch Nina sleep.

"Already done, sir. A year's supply of her favorite Ceylon tea and those Danish butter cookies she covets. I took the liberty of signing the card from both you and Ms. Sorenson."

I smiled despite myself. Between Jenkins and Mrs. Abernathy, the penthouse would be perfect for Nina's return. My mate deserved nothing less.

Later that afternoon, Sabrina spent almost an hour drilling us on care instructions, rest, medication schedules, and wound care. Each instruction felt etched into my bones. I memorized the precise angle to help her sit up, the exact timing of medications, and which movements to avoid. My wolf catalogued every detail with an intensity that surprised even me. This wasn't just about healing her body. It was about proving we could protect her, care for her, be worthy of the trust she'd placed in us. Never again would we let her suffer like this. Finally, we were cleared to leave.

The elevator doors opened to reveal our sanctuary transformed. Fresh air tinged with mint and citrus replaced the bitter scent of violence that had haunted my nightmares. My keen nose detected the subtle layers of cleaning agents beneath. Jenkins and Mrs. Abernathy had been thorough.

My wolf's thoughts tumbled between amusement and embarrassment. Our neighbor, this tiny human who smelled of butter cookies and determination, had seen our territory at its worst, witnessed the aftermath of our rage, and responded by ordering specialized cleaning supplies. The wolf in me wasn't sure whether to be impressed by her efficiency or mortified that our loss of control had been so thoroughly managed by someone who barely reached our chest height.

Nina's fingers tightened on mine as she took in the space.

"Welcome home, Ms. Sorenson, Mr. Nightfang," Jenkins greeted. "All security protocols have been upgraded and verified. The residence has been prepared to Dr. Wu's specifications."

Nina's relief at being home washed through our bond as she looked around the familiar space. "Thanks, Jenkins. It's good to be back."

Home. The word resonated through me. This place had been my sanctuary, my wolf's private den. Now it was transformed by Nina's presence. It was warmer, brighter, and truly a home for the first time.

I helped her settle on the couch, arranging pillows to support her injured ribs. "Do you need anything? Water? Pain meds?"

"Just you." She patted the space beside her. "Hold me?"

As if she needed to ask. I gathered her against me with utmost care, my chest rumbling as she relaxed into my embrace. Her scent wrapped around me like a balm, soothing the last of my battle tension.

"We should talk about what happened," she said after a while, her fingers tracing patterns on my arm.

"Nina."

"No, listen." She shifted to face me, wincing slightly at the movement. "I need you to understand something important. What I saw you shifting, fighting, and protecting me, it didn't frighten me. It made me love you more."

"What happened, Sean—"

"Was going to kill us both." She touched my face, her green eyes fierce. "You did what you had to do. Just like I did."

The image of my mate firing that gun flashed through my mind. I was filled with pride, even as my heart ached.

"I'm sorry you were put in that position," I said.

Before I could say more, Jenkins interrupted us. "Ms. Violet Nightfang is requesting entrance to the penthouse."

My wolf exploded beneath my skin, fangs threatening to descend as rage and terror collided. The mere thought of my mother anywhere near Nina sent protective fury racing through my veins. My muscles coiled, ready to shift at a moment's notice.

"Dean." Nina's voice, still raspy from her injuries, cut through the red haze. "Your eyes are glowing." She paused as she scanned my face for my reaction. "Let her in," Nina said quietly.

"You don't have to face her." I cradled her closer. "Not now, not ever."

"Yes, we do." She squeezed my hand, her determination flowing through our bond. "This needs to end. Today."

My mother's entrance was as cold and filled with disappointment as I had expected. Her silver-streaked hair was swept into an immaculate chignon, not a strand daring to escape its place. The cut of her charcoal suit was razor-sharp, every crease a weapon. Even her perfume was a calculated assault, just strong enough to irritate my wolf's sensitive nose without being obviously aggressive.

My wolf bristled as she crossed into my penthouse territory, every step a deliberate invasion. Her designer heels clicked as she took in Nina's injuries with calculating eyes. I felt Nina tense beside me, her heart rate accelerating slightly, though her expression remained calm.

"Well," she said. "I see Rafe wasn't exaggerating the dramatics."

My muscles coiled as I stood, positioning myself between her and my mate. The wolf's growl vibrated in my chest, remembering every cold word, every manipulative scheme she'd used to control us. "Why are you here?"

"To clean up your mess, as usual." She sighed with practiced martyrdom, adjusting her platinum bracelet in a gesture I'd seen thousands of times. It was her tell when she was preparing to deliver a particularly cutting blow. "Really, Dean. A human mate? And now Sean Marshall's death to explain away."

The casual dismissal of Nina's near-death experience sent rage coursing through my veins. "No." The word came out more wolf than human, my fangs threatening to descend. "You don't get to come here and act like this is my fault. Your schemes, your precious family business. It ends now."

Mother's manicured fingers tightened on her handbag. "You're being ridiculous."

"Rafe nearly killed him," Nina's quiet voice cut through the tension like a blade. Through our bond, I felt her fierce protectiveness warring with genuine bewilderment at my mother's coldness. "Your son. Your own blood. And you're worried about appearances?"

Something cracked in her perfect mask. A flash of something almost like pain in her eyes before the ice returned. "You don't understand our world, girl."

"I understand family." Nina's hand found mine, our bond humming with shared strength. "And this isn't it. Family protects each other. Family chooses love over power. What you've built is just a prison of obligations and fear."

"Choose," I told my mother, drawing on Nina's courage. "Either accept that I'm done with the family business, and that Nina is my mate and my future, or leave. Permanently."

Violet's eyes narrowed to slits. "You would choose her over your own blood?"

"Every time."

"Very well." Violet's spine stiffened to steel. "I see you've made your choice."

"I have." I met her gaze steadily, my wolf calm and certain. "Goodbye, Mother."

She left without another word, taking the last shadows of my past with her. The moment the elevator doors closed behind my mother, the tension I'd carried since childhood began to unravel. My wolf, which had been coiled tight with protective fury, slowly settled as the scent of her perfume dissipated. Each breath came easier, like finally breaking through water and breathing air after a lifetime of drowning.

Nina tugged me back down beside her, curling into my arms despite her injuries. I hadn't realized how much of my life had been spent bracing for her disapproval, measuring every decision against her exacting standards. Now, with Nina warm and real in my arms, those old chains felt meaningless.

I searched for words, my fingers absently stroking Nina's hair. "I feel lighter. Like I've been carrying this weight for so long that I forgot what it was like without it."

Nina's hand found my heart. She didn't try to fill the silence with platitudes or judgments. She simply held space for whatever emotions needed to surface.

A laugh bubbled up out of my throat, surprising us both. It was not bitter or angry, but genuinely free. My wolf stretched luxuriously, reveling in the simple joy of being exactly who and what we were meant to be. No more pretense. No more sacrificing pieces of ourselves to fit someone else's vision.

For the first time in my life, I was completely, unequivocally free to choose my own path. And I'd chosen love.

"You okay?" she whispered against my neck.

I buried my face in her hair, breathing in honeysuckle and mate and home. "Yeah. I really am."

"What happens now?"

"Now?" I smiled against her skin, finally at peace. "Now we heal. Together. And maybe plan that wedding empire you've been dreaming about."

"Mmm. I like the sound of that." She yawned, nestling closer. "Stay with me?"

"Always." I pulled her carefully against my chest, my wolf curling protectively around our mate's sleeping form. "Always."

A gentle knock interrupted our peaceful moment. Before Jenkins could announce our visitor, the unmistakable scent of homemade chicken soup and butter cookies wafted through the door.

"Mrs. Abernathy," Jenkins announced, a touch of fondness in his artificial voice. "Bearing sustenance."

The diminutive woman bustled in, a tiny stout tornado of activity despite the late hour. She carried a large covered pot that steamed promisingly.

"There's my favorite couple!" she declared, setting her burden on the coffee table. "I brought my famous healing chicken dumpling soup, it's the same recipe that brought my Arnold back from pneumonia in '82." She winked at Nina. "Though I suspect your young man's unique constitution might speed things along."

I tensed, but Nina let out a small smile, careful not to jostle her ribs. Of course, Mrs. Abernathy knew. She probably knew everything that happened in this building.

"Now then," she continued, ladling soup into bowls with practiced efficiency. "I must say, it's about time you two sorted things out. The unresolved sexual tension was getting absolutely ridiculous."

"Mrs. Abernathy!" Nina squeaked, blushing furiously.

"Oh please, dear. I may be old, but I'm not blind. The way you moped every time you took the elevator downstairs." She gestured at us with her soup spoon. "And you!" she said, pointing the ladle at me, "You have been like a lovesick puppy at every condo board meeting. Or wolf, as the case may be."

My wolf huffed indignantly at being called a puppy, but I couldn't hide my smile. "Was I that obvious?"

"Painfully so." She patted my cheek. "But then, the best ones usually are. You reminded me of my Arnold, all gruff on the outside, but pure marshmallow when it comes to matters of the heart."

Through our bond, I felt Nina's delight at this revelation. Great. I'd never live this down.

"I knew from the moment she stepped into this building," Mrs. Abernathy continued, pressing cookies into Nina's hands. "Such a spark about her. Exactly what this gloomy tower needed. And what you needed too, dear," she added, fixing me with a knowing look. "Though I must say, you could have skipped the dramatic rearrangement of your furniture."

I didn't know whether to be mortified or impressed by her matter-of-fact handling of supernatural drama.

"Thank you," Nina said softly. "For everything. Jenkins told us how you helped fix everything."

"Nonsense, dear. What are neighbors for?" She stood, smoothing her immaculate skirt. "Now then, you two need rest. Real rest," she added with a pointed look. "Those ribs won't heal properly otherwise, no matter how quick wolf magic might be."

She gathered her things, pausing at the door. "Oh, and Dean? Next time you feel the need to redecorate, give me a heads up. I know an excellent supplier for claw-resistant furniture."

With that parting shot, she swept out, leaving behind the comforting scent of soup and the distinct impression that we'd been adopted whether we liked it or not.

Nina's laughter, though careful of her ribs, filled the room like music. "I love her."

"Yeah," I admitted, pulling Nina close again. "Me too."