Page 39 of His White Moonlight (Dominant CEO Shifter Romance #1)

Bennett’s willingness to give me space dwindled rapidly. He watched me through the office window the remainder of the afternoon and followed me to the parking garage at the end of the day. Again, it was both a comfort and an annoyance to see his car in the rearview mirror on the drive home.

Sandy had a homemade macaroni and cheese bake waiting on the table for us. As soon as we sat at the table together, he seemed to relax. He asked questions about the expenses I’d reviewed and very casually asked about my lunch with Miranda.

“I didn’t think I’d be able to make any friends at Wulf Enterprises. She might be an exception. It’s still too soon to tell, though.”

He didn’t say much after that, and I went up to my room to check in with my online class, which kept me busy for the rest of the night.

Tuesday started rough since Bennett was still in bed with me when I woke up.

I threw my pillow at him and locked myself in the bathroom until I knew he was gone. He didn’t complain that I wanted to drive separately again. However, he tried to claim my lunch hour with a required meeting.

“Am I really not allowed to make friends? I thought the whole point was to get me to like working here so that I stay.”

His face grew dangerously red. “Will you be eating lunch with her all week?”

“Unless someone tries to stop me, yes.”

He nodded and returned to his office, closing the door nicely instead of slamming it like I’d thought he would.

By the end of the day, though, he was pacing in front of his desk. Each of the women who approached me turned around and left without asking whether he was busy. Miranda stopped by to drop off an expense form for me and saw him. She shook her head and left without comment.

At five, he seemed to calm down a little and walked out of his office with a hint of his calmer self. We rode the elevator down together without incident, and he followed me home again.

When we walked in through the kitchen door together, Sandy had another dinner on the table, waiting for us.

I realized then that her schedule—when she cooked for us versus when Bennett cooked for me—was solely dictated by Bennett’s agenda.

Dinners were usually sit-down, and whether I sat depended on my mood and what was being offered.

Given my current avoidance of him, he’d known I would reject going out somewhere after work for a sit-down meal. And if we had picked something up, I would have eaten it in my room. Did he honestly think more manipulation would tempt me to spend more time with him?

“I have a lot of homework,” I said, picking up my plate. “I’m going to eat this as I read.”

The soft growl that echoed behind me made me want to run up the stairs, but I resisted the urge.

Wednesday morning, I woke up lying on him and dug my elbow into his diaphragm to get off instead of pummeling him with the pillow.

He grunted but didn’t move to protect himself as I got out of bed.

It made me wish I’d used my knee. Although considering his current mood, he might have taken that as affection.

He left me alone to get ready and opened my car door for me in the garage, seeming to be in a better mood than when he went to bed.

Maybe he had taken that elbow as something affectionate.

However, the reason for his good mood became clearer when we arrived at work and the parking space next to his was empty.

He parked beside my car and opened my door for me.

I didn’t comment as we rode the elevator up together.

He went straight to his office and kept the door open.

Since he wasn’t staring at me angrily through the window and wasn’t pacing, everyone took that as a sign that he was approachable.

They quickly drained what little patience and humor he’d started the day with, and a few minutes before noon, I fled to meet Miranda at her desk.

Several of the women turned to look at me as I sped past like I’d lost my mind, including Milena.

“Rough morning?” Miranda asked with a grin.

“You have no idea.”

“Oh, I might. We could all hear him that last time when he yelled, ‘Get out.’”

“I think the third floor heard him,” Milena said. “You’re clearly not helping the situation. If you’re not willing to do your job, step aside so someone else can take your place.”

She stood with her purse and left.

I waited until Miranda and I were outside to ask, “Does she know?”

“Probably. She’d have to be nose blind not to know. He smelled like repressed sex and frustration before you came home, which was driving us all crazy. However, it’s slowly changed, especially after you both took the day off last Thursday. It’s less frustration and more anticipation now.”

“Less frustration? He got so red in the face yesterday that I thought he’d have a stroke. And today, he threw Olivia’s folder so hard that the corner of it embedded in the drywall.”

“Impressive. Bet he couldn’t do that again if he tried.”

“Not the point. He seems way more frustrated, not less.”

She shrugged. “I’m just telling you what I smell and why Milena probably knows. That subtle change is what tipped me off. That and the scent of your desperation.”

“I’m still not sure if this is a budding friendship or the origin story of mortal enemies.”

She laughed. “How do you feel about Mexican food for lunch?”

“Friendship it is.”

We didn’t just order food; she ordered us drinks too. The strawberry margarita was amazing, and I felt so relaxed as we walked back to work.

“How bad are your periods, usually?”

Her random question broke through my little bubble of happiness.

“What?”

“I bought you the drink to help you make it through the day, but that was before I realized you were getting your period. Since you’re underage and he’s overprotective, if we call the margarita medicinal, I might not get yelled at for it.”

It took a few extra seconds for my mind to catch up to what she was saying. Even knowing that Bennett would smell alcohol on me and scold her, she’d bought me a drink anyway. And she—and everyone else in the office—would smell I was getting my period.

“Pain-wise, my periods are survivable. The first day is always the worst. But I think the emotional trauma of knowing that everyone will know when I have my period should win the ‘why Wrenly drank at lunch’ award.”

She laughed. “It’s not a big deal. We’re used to it.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“You will be. There are supplies in the bathroom closet. Take what you need.”

When we returned to work, she not only walked me to my desk but also went into Bennett’s office without knocking and closed the door behind her.

I watched him look up from his computer. His gaze shifted from me to the door where she stood. His frown slowly faded the longer she was in there. He glanced at me once more, nodded, and looked down at his computer again.

Miranda let herself out of his office, closing the door behind her.

“We’re both good,” she said.

About an hour later, as I was nodding off at my desk, my phone buzzed.

Bennett: Can I talk to you for a second?

As soon as I stood, I felt the first stabbing cramp and pressed my hand to my abdomen. He was starting to stand when I glanced at him through the window and gave him the “I need a second” finger. Seeing that one instead of the one he was used to seemed to surprise him.

He nodded and sat back down. I made my way to the bathroom and raided the supply closet.

A chocolate and a blanket were waiting for me on his napping couch when I returned.

“Thanks,” I said, taking both and making myself comfortable.

He watched me eat the chocolate and lie down.

“Is this what you wanted to talk about?” I asked.

“No, but I was going to offer it. You looked like you were going to pass out at your desk.”

I closed my eyes, already giving in to the call of sleep.

The nap didn’t last long. I woke an hour later, cramping lightly, and rolled over. The blanket, which had slid down, was tugged up over my shoulder again.

I opened my eyes and looked up at Bennett, who was leaning over me.

“Are you all right?” he asked, moving so I could sit up.

“Fine. Just some twinges.”

“I called Milo to pick up your car and made reservations for dinner after work. Pizza, but we can change it to anything.”

“What? Why?”

“You drank at lunch. Underage drinking means you’d lose your license. Do you want to risk that?”

Everything he was saying sounded reasonable. But it still felt off.

“Did you make the reservation and arrange for Milo to pick up the car before or after I came back from lunch?”

Frustration flashed in his eyes, and I wanted to strangle him for trying to manipulate me. Again .

“Don’t pretend this is about protecting my interests when it’s about protecting yours. Ass.” I threw my blanket aside and left. My attempt to slam the door was thwarted by his hand stopping it.

“Keep it open,” he said.

I went to the bathroom and didn’t return for an hour. He kept his distance for the rest of the afternoon and didn’t say a word when he left his office and waited by my desk for me to shut down.

He tried talking to me once we were in the car, but I ignored him. At the restaurant, he asked me to order, which I did, then attempted a conversation again. My responding silence wasn’t simply anger. It was a boundary.

I knew that if I gave him what he wanted—my attention—he would continue manipulating my life with increasing frequency until he got what he wanted, regardless of what I wanted.

His frustration grew as we sat at the table, waiting for the pizza. When it arrived, I took a piece and started eating. He asked how it was. I said nothing.

By the time the meal was over, his frustration had disappeared behind his mask. He paid the bill and walked me to the car.

He offered ice cream on the way home. I was so tempted but didn’t say anything.

Once we were home, I went to my room and focused on studying, grateful I’d signed up for the class.