Alpha's Private Plaything (Elsa and Drake Stone) novel Chapter 116

Chapter 116

Elsa

“I’m sorry, Ms. Hale,” the receptionist said, not looking sorry at all.

“Mr. Wilson is in meetings all afternoon. Perhaps you could come

back tomorrow? With an appointment?”

I forced a polite smile while mentally giving her the finger. Bullshit.

He’s avoiding me and you know it.

“I understand, but this agreement is time–sensitive. I’m happy to wait

until there’s a break in his schedule.” Even if it takes all damn day,

you corporate gatekeeper.

The receptionist–a young wolf with perfectly manicured claws and

an expression that said she’d rather be anywhere else–looked

doubtful. “It could be hours.”

“That’s fine,” I said, settling into one of the lobby chairs and pulling

out my tablet. “I’ll be right here.”

Fuck Wilson and his power plays, I thought as I logged into my

email. Does he think I haven’t dealt with arrogant assholes before?

Drake Stone himself is the master class in corporate arrogance, and I

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handle him every day.

Three hours later, my ass was numb and my patience was hanging by

a thread. I’d gone through every email in my inbox and drafted

responses to most of them. The receptionist kept shooting me

apologetic glances, clearly uncomfortable with my persistence. Good.

Let her squirm. At least someone in this building has a conscience.

Finally, the elevator doors opened, and Owen Wilson himself stepped

out, deep in conversation with another man. He was shorter than I

expected, with salt–and–pepper hair and sharp eyes that missed

nothing. Well, well. The elusive prick emerges from his ivory tower.

“Mr. Wilson,” I said, standing quickly, ignoring the pins and needles

in my legs. “Elsa Hale from Stone Industries. I was hoping to discuss

the supplementary agreement—”

Wilson didn’t even pause. He walked right past me as if I didn’t exist,

continuing his conversation without missing a beat. As he reached

the exit, he finally glanced back, his eyes meeting mine for just a

second. The dismissal in them was clear as day.

Did this motherfucker seriously just-

“Well, that went well,” I muttered, gathering my things, blood boiling under my professional veneer. “Arrogant prick.” I wasn’t giving up

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that easily, though. If he thinks he can dismiss me like yesterday’s

trash, he’s got another thing coming. Drake would have my head if I

came back empty–handed.

I followed Wilson at a discreet distance, watching as he and his

companion entered an upscale restaurant two blocks away. Perfect. If

he wouldn’t talk to me in his office, maybe a more public setting

would work better. And if he tries to ignore me again, I’ll make a

scene so spectacular the whole restaurant will remember it.

I secured a table close enough to observe Wilson but not so close as

to be obvious. When the waiter came, I ordered coffee and a selection

of desserts to be sent to Wilson’s table, along with my business card.

Let’s see how you handle this little power move, you pretentious

dickwad.

My heart raced as I watched the waiter approach Wilson’s table.

There was something exhilarating about forcing his hand, about

refusing to be dismissed. In Drake’s world, persistence was

everything, and I’d learned from the best.

Wilson’s companion left about twenty minutes later, and I watched as

the waiter delivered the desserts to Wilson’s table. He looked

surprised, then suspicious, glancing around until his gaze landed on

1. me. I raised my coffee cup in a small salute, allowing myself a smirk

that said, Yeah, that’s right. Still here, asshole.

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Instead of coming over as I’d hoped, Wilson simply stood, left cash on

the table, and walked out, casting a contemptuous glance in my

direction as he passed.

Son of a bitch. I gripped my coffee cup so hard I thought it might

shatter. The rejection stung more than it should have, pricking at my

professional pride. Who the hell does he think he is?

Message received. This was going to be harder than I thought.

I headed back to Wilson’s office building, determination burning in my gut like acid. I would catch him before he left for the day if I had to chain myself to his damn car. The same receptionist looked startled to see me again. Yeah, surprise, bitch. I don’t give up that

easily.

“Mr. Wilson just called,” she said before I could speak, a slight tremor in her voice. “He’s heading to an industry mixer this evening and

won’t be back in the office today.”

I smiled, the kind of smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Then I guess I’ll

wait until tomorrow.” Or hunt him down like the slippery eel he is.

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