Page 19 of Corbin (Wild Wolf Pack from the world of Gallize Shifters #2)

Yes, she had, but she’d been willing to do anything to add a bonus charity event to each of the six venues on her tour.

“I don’t want another man injured or killed.

At this point, your people are endangering my tour.

” She cringed at how cold that sounded, but she had a role to play and needed to give him a reason to wait before adding anyone else.

“I am very concerned about the welfare of my men.” He rarely let his emotions show.

Reminding him of the deaths on top of a third one injured had set him off.

“If you want to know the truth, if I could, I would pull every one of them out of the field this minute, but I can’t.

I find it appalling that you’re more worried about your tour than the men we’ve lost.”

“I did not say that!” she bit out, feeling a new vein of guilt slide through her. “I told you I don’t want anyone else harmed.”

Ivarson eased his way toward the covered entrance where vehicles dropped off and picked up passengers.

“I have to go, Beckham. We’ll discuss replacements later.”

“No, we won’t because I’ve put two new ones in place that I must have.”

“I’m out of time.” She ended the call rather than hear a rundown of their qualifications.

At least he had not heard about the motorcyclist being arrested.

She wanted to help her vulnerable female shifters, but she’d never wanted to hurt other people.

Now she questioned how effective she’d be with a shifter watching her movements.

Even if that motorcyclist got cut from the team, the other guy had to be a shifter too.

Her heart sank. It had been difficult enough to carve out time to slip away from everyone to take care of her ladies with so many security guards watching her.

She’d managed early on because the original security team had been bored and easy to evade.

Ivarson parked and opened her door facing the building.

We will help the women , Pixie said, having likely picked up on her anguish.

Her wolf had been with her through so much. Eirene would be lost without her.

Eirene hooked the designer tote bag on her shoulder and stepped out.

Leszek would wrinkle his nose at her dirty shoes, but she’d had the last pair of expensive heels for almost three weeks.

Keeping shoes pristine for resale was tough.

They wouldn’t be as valuable with a scuff.

If her feet weren’t killing her, she’d wear them one more time to confirm what her trustee believed—that she squandered an insane amount of money on high-priced designer clothes, shoes, and purses.

Before her dad died, he had included a generous budget for her business and performance clothes. She smiled over one thing her trustee couldn’t alter.

On the other hand, her father had kept her monthly income moderate because she had never needed anything while living in his house. She struggled with blaming him for her situation. He never planned on being murdered and their home getting sold, but he was the one who structured her trust fund.

She had a feeling Leszek had stood over his shoulder while her father made the edits.

Damn Leszek.

When she reached the top floor of the six-floor, stone-and-brick building, the elevator doors opened to an elegant reception area. A lovely woman in her fifties sat facing visitors as they stepped out.

“Hello, Alexandria.” Eirene had always appreciated the woman she’d known since long before the lady’s hair turned gray.

“Good to see you, Ms. Givenchy. I’ll let him know you’re on the way.”

Eirene thanked her and walked the long corridor decorated with photos of Leszek at celebrity events and in the company of notable business leaders.

Among all that, he’d placed her first three platinum albums between glass-walled personal offices and two large conference rooms. Her trustee hired the best in their fields.

He wanted no visitor to doubt his success.

At the end of the hall, she passed through an open door where she encountered the second person who shielded Leszek. “Hello, Timothy.”

“Ms. Givenchy.” He stood and held tight to his expression of polite disapproval when his eyes landed on yet another Louis Vuitton purchase.

He found her undeserving of his boss.

She found him amusing.

Ready to get this done, she started toward the door to her trustee’s office.

Timothy hurried to open it only to remind her he was the gatekeeper.

Unamused to find the office empty, she took a seat facing his desk. She would wait, but she refused to show a weakness by fidgeting. He could be watching.

She’d loved the smell of Leszek Moore’s wall of books behind his desk, which included some of his favorite fiction, memoirs by people he admired, and a ton of medical journals he’d read along the way to becoming a celebrated psychiatrist. She’d spent hours playing on the sixteenth-century Persian rug he purchased at auction when he had no important meetings scheduled.

One memory after another assaulted her.

It had all been a lie.

The polished wood door to his private bathroom whispered open and closed behind him as he entered his office.

He carried his five-foot-ten height as if he were over six feet tall.

No longer wearing a white coat in his office these days, he wore a dark suit and polished loafers.

His hairstylist likely spent hours placing each medium-length black hair in a perfect photo-worthy style.

Looking closer to forty than sixty, he had invested well with plastic surgeons.

Nothing would ever make him decent in her eyes.

He’d been her father’s best friend and partner in their medical business. She shoved away memories she no longer cherished.

That allowed her more time to envision ways to bring him to his knees.

Another wolf shifter in her position might plot his death, but neither she nor her wolf possessed the ability to kill someone.

“So wonderful to see you in person again, Eirene.” He sent that sarcastic shot across the bow, then walked past his desk to place a chaste kiss on her cheek.

Pixie said, Yuck.

Eirene angled her head and smiled, but it was for Pixie’s reaction, not Leszek. He’d take it as her acting obedient. She’d never dreamed her father would leave her under this man’s thumb, but he had probably seen it as protecting her from vultures.

She regretted the months she had gone off the deep end, trying any way she could not to think about losing her dad. Sadly, she’d only accomplished handing the courts proof that even though she was an adult by human laws, she still needed an overseer.

They confirmed Leszek as her trustee.

Keeping her hands relaxed on the arms of her chair, she schooled her voice to sound sincere. “What is so important?”

“I’ll get right to the point. I’ve discussed this with your agent before informing the tour company. You may do the planned event in Spartanburg, and then you can perform one more event. After that, I feel you need to take a badly needed rest.”

“What?” She stood. With all pretenses of calm gone, she asked, “Two weeks? We have a six-week extension. You can’t cancel a commitment with my name on it at the last minute.”

“The label controls your tours. I’m giving you the option of owning this respite.”

She seethed but managed to stay calm. “No. I’m fine. I want to do the tour.”

“Just the other day, you threatened not to sing at all if the contract was not signed. I took that as a cry for help.”

She would not stand here and listen to psychobabble. “I’m not even going to address that ridiculous comment.”

His eyes flared with anger at her insult. “Be very careful. My diagnosis is considered unquestioned in the psychiatric field.”

She fought a moment of panic. What was he trying to do? What had brought this on?

“I see you understand the gravity of this situation,” he went on.

“Actually, I don’t understand what the situation is.”

“I’ve discovered your little secret.”

Her heart dropped like an anvil in thin air. How had he found out about the women she rescued?

“Oh, don’t be so surprised.” He smiled and sat back in his leather chair. “Did you really think you could agree to partner in a run-down theater for sweat equity, and I would not find out?”

Air filled her lungs again. Her chicks were safe.

Trying for his confidence, she walked over to look out the ten-foot-tall floor-to-ceiling windows where traffic moved along the street. She drew a deep breath and replied on the exhale. “It’s not that big of a secret. Just something I wanted to do to give back to my fans. Why is this a problem?”

“Had you simply spoken to me first, I would have researched funding for this venture rather than using your time for sweat equity. That would have allowed you to stay on schedule to finish your current album and focus on the tour.”

Now she understood.

Turning around, she leaned against the corner of the window with her arms crossed.

She didn’t want his hands in the theater or for him to find out what she really had planned for a charity.

“I want to have a part of something that grows from the ground up. My sweat equity is singing for charity events. It’s my time. ”

He sat back and studied her long enough to make most people uncomfortable. She knew how he operated and didn’t flinch.

“Are you refusing to include me in this project, Eirene?”

She tried for diplomacy. “If I needed your help, I would have asked.”

“In that case, we’re back to the two weeks and then a break.”

Evidently, diplomacy was wasted on a madman.

“No! I committed to six events. To back out would damage my reputation.” She lifted her chin.

“My father never intended for you to rule every piece of my life. I have tried to be a model person since coming back home. I have worked very hard to develop my music and my following. Why would you do this now? You don’t care about this little theater or whether I sing for charities. What is it you actually want?”

A tiny smile teased his lips. “I want that album finished and an international tour to support the release. I want another album completed a year later.”

She should be relieved to get a straight answer, but his olive branch would tie up the majority of her days for a year. She needed more time than he was allowing after this six-week tour to finish the album she’d been dragging her feet on intentionally.

However, if that would get him off her back for a few months, she’d give him the album.

Slumping her shoulders as if she’d lost a battle, she nodded. “You’re right. It’s time to clean up the album and plan a release.”

Here came the full vulture smile. “That’s more like it.”

“As soon as I return from this six-week run, I’ll go into the studio and iron out the bumps in the songs. I have a new one in mind, too,” she added that last part to offer something special.

But she would not give him her best material, barely enough to kick him off her back.

He leaned forward with his elbows on the table and his hands folded together. “I want the album finished in two weeks.”

Her mouth opened, but she shut it quickly. “I can’t do my best work on the road. I’d have to fly back once every four days, cram for a full day, and then go back out.”

“Then you should consider two events and staying here to finish the album.”

Could she hate anyone more than she did him? Not possible.

He continued, “In case you’re wondering what will happen if you fail to finish the album in two weeks, I shall break every contract, which means paying damages to each company.”

He’d ruin her label.

She would have nothing once she freed herself of him. Her heart banged her ribs. It wasn’t as if he weren’t wealthy, but he expected every facet of his business life to perform exceptionally.

She’d give him what he wanted. “I’ll finish the album in two weeks.” Without another word, she snatched up her tote bag and walked out of his office. He didn’t deserve a proper goodbye.

He would be the trustee of her estate until she turned twenty-four in a year unless he convinced her to extend the contract or ... died before that day.