“The Winter Charity Ball. An annual event organized by Feed My Sheep, one of those conglomerate charities—though entirely local—supported by other charities and wealthy donors. It claims to benefit the homeless in the greater Seattle area. Approximately five hundred of Seattle’s movers and shakers are expected to attend—tickets are expensive to make it exclusive. Mrs.Alvarez’s husband started the charity twentyyears ago and, though no longer directly affiliated with it, continues to be its largest single donor.”
“A charity ball,” mused Asil. “Did I not already go to a ball? I am disappointed that you are not more creative.”
“You like to dance and dress up,” his friend said accurately. “You’ll have fun.”
“Isthatwhat I’ve been having?” Asil asked.
“Isn’t it?”
Asil sucked in a breath. “I am not willing to go so far. Let’s agree instead that I have not been bored. But in any case, I did not bring anything formal enough for a ball.”
“I’m having a couple of white-tie-appropriate suits delivered to your hotel room as we speak. Mr.Alvarez sent a photo of the dress his wife will be wearing so you can factor that in when you choose which suit to wear.”
“When is this ball?”
“Tonight. Mrs.Alvarez’s driver will pick you up at seven. Afterward, you both will pick up Mrs.Alvarez at their city condo, which the two of you will return to at the end of the night. Her husband will not be present.”
“That seems…disinterested of him.”
Asil was a werewolf. The idea of sharing his mate with anyone was ridiculous.
“I have no idea,” Asil’s erstwhile friend admitted. “But that’s what the proposal said.”
We do not share, affirmed his wolf.Ruby is ours.
When and if she chooses, Asil rebuked the wolf gently.
She is a person of great discernment, the wolf said.She knows who and what we are. How can she not choose us?
“Asil?”
“Discussing matters with my wolf,” Asil admitted. “That was impolite and I apologize. The last thing I heard was that Mr.Alvarez prefers his wife to sleep with strangers.”
“Talking with your wolf? Really talking?”
“Yes.”
“Congratulations,” his friend said sincerely. “You didn’t miss much. You are required to go back to the condo with her and go in for a drink. For which you are getting paid two thousand dollars.”
“Excuse me?”
“Two thousand dollars.”
Asil didn’t know if he was more offended at being paid or at how little money was on offer.
The soft laugh on the other end of the conversation told him that his friend understood his dilemma.
“You’ll be happy to know that we—in the royal sense—expect that this date will be every bit as interesting as the dates you have gone on already.”
Asil was sure it would be. When he disconnected from his friend, he called Ruby.
II
Asil understood servants in a way that most people living in America at this time did not—including, sadly, the servants themselves. They were, primarily, minions who spied for their owners while doing their bidding.
He had no intention of allowing Mr.or Mrs.Alvarez to think him too eager, so he waited until a call came that his ridewas outside before he put the jacket on and paused for a final look in the full-length mirror.
He could not fault his friend’s taste, but modern formal dress was not his favorite. He looked amazing, of course. The severe black and white highlighted the rich tones of his skin and eyes. There was nothing to take away from the perfection of his features, but there was also very little room for creativity.
