I Accidentally Texted My Billionaire Boss For Baby Formula — Then Discovered His Dark Secret
Part 2
My back hit the locked door, my heart pounding loud enough for the wolf to hear.
Those familiar, icy blue eyes watched me, wide with panic and cornered instinct.
“Can you understand me?”
I whispered, afraid to breathe.
“Blink twice if you can understand what I’m saying.”
The wolf stared, then blinked twice in slow succession.
I let out a shaky breath, forcing myself to lower my defensive stance.
“I’m guessing this isn’t some extreme corporate wellness program,” I said.
The wolf huffed, the sound vibrating with offended dignity.
I took a tiny step forward, extending my palm just a fraction.
“I’m not going to scream, and I’m definitely not calling animal control.”
His hackles lowered slightly, the aggressive tension bleeding out of his massive shoulders.
He took a tentative step toward me, nostrils flaring as he closed the distance.
He gently pressed his wet muzzle into my open palm.
The contact sent a jolt of heat up my arm.
Just as suddenly, the fur receded, and bones snapped back into place.
Tyler stood before me completely naked, his chest heaving with fury and embarrassment.
I slapped both hands over my eyes, though I definitely peeked through my fingers.
“You’re naked!”
I yelped.
He silently stalked across the room, pressing a hidden panel that revealed a closet full of identical suits.
“If a woman touches me, I shift,” he growled, pulling on a crisp white shirt.
“It’s a curse, and if anyone finds out, it will destroy my company.”
He turned to face me, buttoning his cuffs with trembling fingers.
“I need an assistant who knows how to keep people out of my personal space.”
He offered me a ninety-five-thousand dollar salary to act as his human shield.
Over the next few months, I became an expert at intercepting handshakes and blocking overeager executives.
I also learned that beneath his terrifying exterior, Tyler was just incredibly lonely.
We started eating takeout on my cramped apartment floor while Lily slept nearby.
He actually smiled at my terrible jokes, and I realized I was falling for my billionaire boss.
Then his terrifying sister Brenda found out I knew the secret.
She stormed into the office, her own eyes flashing an unnatural, glowing gold.
“Get away from my brother before you ruin us,” she snarled, slamming her hands on his desk.
Would you have taken the massive paycheck to protect his secret, or run as far away as possible?
Part 3
Megan took the massive paycheck.
Running simply wasn’t a luxury afforded to women raising their dead sister’s baby in a crumbling studio apartment.
So she signed the intimidating non-disclosure agreement, took the ninety-five-thousand dollar salary, and officially became the human shield for a billionaire werewolf.
The transition from scrubbing toilets to guarding Tyler Brooks was jarring, to say the least.
Her new office was a glass-walled enclosure just outside his massive suite, equipped with a laptop she mostly used to play online Scrabble.
For the first three weeks, Tyler barely acknowledged her existence.
He operated with a rigid, almost mechanical precision, a man terrified of his own shadow.
Every interaction was calculated, every movement designed to keep him safely isolated from the rest of humanity.
Megan watched him from her desk, studying the sharp lines of his jaw and the tension that never left his shoulders.
She couldn’t reconcile this pristine, emotionally vacant CEO with the terrified wolf she had accidentally unleashed.
The memory of that night still haunted her dreams.
She had only gone to his office to apologize for the text message.
She had meant to beg Brian, her childhood best friend, for twenty dollars to buy Lily’s baby formula.
Instead, a sleep-deprived brain and a misplaced thumb had sent the plea to Tyler.
He had transferred eight hundred dollars without a single question, prompting her ill-fated midnight visit.
The simple touch of her hand on his forearm had triggered a violent, bone-snapping transformation.
She had expected him to kill her.
Instead, the massive silver-and-charcoal beast had cowered against the mahogany desk, as terrified of her as she was of him.
Now, her official job title was Executive Assistant, but her actual duty was supernatural bodyguard.
She quickly learned the subtle art of intercepting human contact.
When a vice president of sales leaned in to pat Tyler’s shoulder, Megan “accidentally” spilled ice water across the conference table.
When an enthusiastic new client went in for a hug, Megan stepped smoothly between them, claiming Tyler was strictly observing social distancing protocols.
“Respect the bubble, people,” she announced cheerfully during a crowded elevator ride, carving out a physical barrier around him.
Tyler merely rolled his eyes, but she caught the microscopic relaxation of his spine.
That tiny shift became her new obsession.
She made it her mission to crack his unflappable exterior, if only to prove he was still human beneath the curse.
“You know, studies show that people who never smile develop premature wrinkles,” she told him one Tuesday, leaning against the doorframe of his office.
“Fascinating,” he replied dryly, not looking up from his financial projections.
“I’ll add it to my list of concerns right after the quarterly earnings report and before the board presentation.”
“A little facial exercise wouldn’t kill you,” she teased, flashing an exaggerated, goofy grin.
He didn’t visibly react, but she saw the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.
It was the Tyler Brooks equivalent of a belly laugh.
As the weeks turned into months, the ice between them began to thaw.
He started asking for her opinion on marketing campaigns and personnel files, valuing her blunt, unfiltered honesty.
She started sitting in on executive meetings, her presence a quiet reassurance that he was safe.
The real shift, however, happened outside the office.
A burst pipe in Megan’s dilapidated building forced her and Lily out into the humid summer night.
Tyler had shown up within the hour, moving them into a luxury corporate apartment without a second thought.
What started as a temporary relocation soon became a strange, comfortable routine.
He started dropping by in the evenings with takeout, loosening his designer tie and rolling up his sleeves in her temporary living room.
He looked completely out of place sitting on a cheap rug surrounded by brightly colored baby toys.
Yet, when Lily reached up with sticky fingers, he didn’t recoil.
He calmly moved his spreadsheets out of the blast zone and handed the toddler a teething ring.
One night, after a particularly brutal negotiation with a rival firm, Megan poured him a glass of cheap wine.
“They’re idiots,” she declared, flopping onto the couch beside him.
“That sustainability initiative will save millions, and they’re too blind to see it.”
“The board prefers immediate returns,” he muttered, his posture rigid as he stared at his untouched glass.
“The board wouldn’t recognize a long-term strategy if it bit them on their collective behinds,” she countered.
His mouth twitched, the ghost of a genuine smile threatening to break free.
“An interesting visual, Miss Baker.”
“I’m full of those,” she said, bumping her shoulder against his—then freezing, remembering the curse.
But she hadn’t touched his skin, only the fabric of his shirt.
He didn’t pull away.
“Right now, I’m picturing you actually relaxing,” she continued softly.
“It’s wild, I know.”
He let out a slow, steady breath, and for the first time, she saw him deliberately lean back against the cushions.
“Getting there,” she smirked.
“Now try moving your face muscles into an actual expression.”
Maybe it was the late hour, or the exhaustion, or the quiet intimacy of the dimly lit room.
But Tyler Brooks smiled.
It was a real, full smile that reshaped his entire face, softening the harsh angles and bringing a startling warmth to his icy eyes.
Megan’s heart skipped a heavy, traitorous beat.
This wasn’t just a victory in her ongoing campaign to humanize her boss.
This was something dangerous.
She stared at him, the realization crashing over her with the force of a physical blow.
She wasn’t just his bodyguard or his assistant anymore.
She was falling completely, hopelessly in love with him.
“This is not happening,” she whispered to herself in the bathroom mirror the next morning, aggressively scrubbing her teeth.
“You cannot have a crush on your emotionally constipated, shape-shifting boss.”
She reminded herself that he was completely out of her league, a billionaire who probably alphabetized his sock drawer.
She initiated ‘Operation No Crush’ immediately, burying herself in spreadsheets and avoiding his office.
By noon, she was congratulating herself on her newfound professional distance.
Then Rachel from accounting dropped a brown paper bag on her desk.
“Delivery for you,” Rachel announced with a knowing smirk.
Inside was lemongrass tofu from a tiny restaurant six blocks away that absolutely did not offer delivery.
Attached was a crisp white note card in Tyler’s elegant handwriting.
“You seemed busy this morning.
Don’t forget to eat.
—Tyler.”
Megan groaned, dropping her forehead against the cool wood of her desk.
How was she supposed to maintain her distance when he did incredibly thoughtful things like this?
The avoidance strategy crumbled entirely three days later.
Tyler called her into his office, his left eyebrow twitching in a clear sign of severe distress.
“The Henderson deal is stalling,” he confessed, pacing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Brenda is pushing me to close it immediately, and the board is getting impatient.”
Megan frowned, leaning against his heavy desk.
“So what’s the holdup?
The numbers make perfect sense.”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, dragging a hand through his perfectly styled hair.
“I’ve met with Greg Henderson three times, and nothing materializes.”
Megan spent the next two days doing what she did best: digging for unconventional answers.
She dropped a thick file on his desk the following morning.
“You need to change your approach,” she announced.
“Henderson signs his biggest deals in upscale bars after midnight.
He doesn’t do boardrooms.”
Tyler stared at her as if she had suggested he conduct the meeting in a clown suit.
“That’s not professional,” he muttered stubbornly.
He looked so adorably principled that Megan’s carefully constructed defenses shattered all over again.
Before she could stop herself, she found herself staring at the curve of his lips, wondering what it would feel like to kiss him.
“Is something wrong with my face?”
he asked, catching her lingering gaze.
“Nope,” she squeaked, backing quickly toward the door.
“All good.
Nothing unusual happening here.”
She practically ran back to her desk, her cheeks burning with humiliation.
Her frantic retreat was intercepted by Sarah from Human Resources, who looked positively grim.
“Ms. Brooks wants to see you in her office,” Sarah whispered.
“Immediately.”
Megan’s stomach plummeted to her shoes.
Brenda Brooks was the only person in the city more terrifying than Tyler.
She ruled the company—and seemingly her brother—with an iron fist and a chilling, perfect smile.
Megan took a deep breath and knocked on the frosted glass door.
Brenda sat behind an immaculate white desk, her dark hair sleek as a raven’s wing, her eyes sharp and cold.
“What’s your angle?”
Brenda demanded without preamble.
“My angle?”
Megan repeated, momentarily confused.
“I assume you mean the Henderson merger.
I just thought—”
“I don’t give a damn about Greg Henderson,” Brenda interrupted, her perfect facade cracking.
“I’m talking about Tyler.”
Megan swallowed hard, taking a defensive step backward.
“I’m his assistant.
We work together.”
“Work?”
Brenda laughed, the sound harsh and grating.
“Is that what you call it?
All he ever talks about is you.”
Brenda stood up, planting her palms on the desk.
“He wanted to invite you to the private family dinner I’m hosting for his birthday tomorrow.”
Megan’s heart gave a treacherous flutter.
“He did?”
“You’re not invited, you daft girl,” Brenda growled, her composure slipping entirely.
“This is a private, family-only gathering.
No humans allowed.”
Megan blinked, the pieces slowly falling into place.
“Family only… shifters.
Right.”
She held up her hands placatingly.
“Ms. Brooks, don’t worry.
I know about the secret.
I never touch him.”
The color drained rapidly from Brenda’s flawless face.
“He told you?”
she whispered, horror dawning in her eyes.
“Well, he showed me, technically,” Megan backpedaled, realizing her mistake.
“It was an accident.
But I haven’t told a soul!”
The office door swung open, and Tyler stepped inside, taking in the scene with immediate alarm.
“What’s going on?”
he asked.
“This girl has known about us for months!”
Brenda shrieked, gesturing wildly at Megan.
Tyler paled, his gaze darting between his sister and his assistant.
“Please go, Megan,” he said quietly, a pleading look in his eyes.
Megan nodded, her throat tight with unshed tears, and slipped out the door.
She could hear Brenda’s voice rising in the hallway behind her.
“After everything I’ve done for you!
After everything I sacrificed for this pack!”
Megan practically ran to the elevator, her chest aching with the sudden, sharp realization that she had just ruined everything.
Megan spent the entirety of Tyler’s birthday staring at her phone, debating whether to send a simple text message.
She drafted twenty-seven variations of “Happy Birthday” before throwing her phone onto the couch in disgust.
She was just settling in with a glass of wine when a heavy knock rattled her apartment door.
She opened it to find Tyler Brooks leaning heavily against the doorframe, a loopy, triumphant grin on his face.
“Deal signed,” he announced, waving a crumpled document in his hand.
“Your idea worked.
Getting drunk to sign deals is brilliant.”
“Oh my god, you’re wasted,” Megan gasped, grabbing his elbow through his suit jacket to pull him inside.
He collapsed onto her cheap couch with a heavy groan, his precise diction blurring around the edges.
“I can’t go to Brenda’s dinner now,” he mumbled, closing his eyes.
“She’ll freak out.
Last time I got drunk, she got our entire pack cursed.”
Megan froze halfway to the kitchen.
“What did you just say?”
Tyler blinked up at her, looking suddenly, painfully vulnerable.
“I should lie down,” he slurred.
She knelt beside the couch to help him shift, the close proximity making her heart hammer against her ribs.
“You know,” he whispered softly, his blue eyes locking onto hers.
“Sometimes you look at me and your heart rate increases, just like it is right now.”
Before she could process the terrifying fact that he could hear her racing heart, he reached up.
His hand tangled in her hair, and he pulled her down into a desperate, messy kiss.
Megan melted against him, all her suppressed longing pouring into the connection.
It took her a full five seconds to realize the terrifying truth.
They were touching—skin to skin—and he hadn’t transformed.
Before she could say a word, the apartment door flew open, hitting the wall with a deafening crack.
Brenda stood in the doorway, her immaculate appearance unruffled, but her eyes glowing an unnatural, predatory gold.
“Get away from him,” Brenda snarled, practically dragging her intoxicated brother off the couch.
“You’ve done enough.”
The venom in her voice felt like a physical blow, leaving Megan standing alone in her suddenly too-quiet apartment.
The official email arrived at exactly 7:47 the next morning.
It informed Megan of her immediate, lateral transfer to the marketing department.
There was no mention of the kiss, no acknowledgement of the past four months.
Just a cold, corporate reassignment signed by the CEO.
Furious and heartbroken, Megan bypassed security and barged directly into Tyler’s office.
He looked up from his desk, a flash of genuine pain quickly concealed behind his usual mask of authority.
“So that’s it?”
she demanded, waving her phone at him.
“After everything, I get a form letter?”
“It’s a promotion,” he said quietly, refusing to meet her eyes.
“This is Brenda’s idea, isn’t it?”
Megan challenged, stepping closer to his desk.
“She’s terrified because we touched last night and you didn’t transform.”
Tyler flinched, color draining from his face.
“I don’t remember last night, Megan.
I was drunk.”
The confession felt like a knife to her chest, but she pushed through the pain.
“The point is, the curse didn’t work!
We kissed, and you stayed human!”
“Evelyn is right,” he interrupted, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.
“You have feelings for me.
And what’s the point of these feelings if I can’t even touch you?”
His perfect control finally cracked, his voice breaking with raw, agonizing vulnerability.
“What kind of future is that for us?”
“But you can touch me!”
she insisted, stepping into his space.
“You’re letting her fear control you!”
Acting on pure impulse, she reached out and grabbed his bare wrist.
Tyler stared at her, shock and betrayal flashing across his features.
The air crackled with violent energy, and within seconds, the massive timberwolf crouched amidst the ruins of his designer suit.
He snarled at her—not with aggression, but with clear, devastating dismissal.
Megan stumbled backward, tears blurring her vision as she realized her fatal mistake.
The curse was triggered by unwanted touch, and by forcing the issue, she had made the touch unwanted.
She turned and fled the office, leaving him alone in his self-imposed prison.
A month passed in a haze of misery and avoidance.
Megan survived the marketing department by dodging elevators and taking her lunch breaks at odd hours.
She was pathetic, crying over a billionaire werewolf who had ghosted her, but she couldn’t seem to stop.
The mandatory quarterly review meeting was unavoidable.
She sat in the far corner of the glass-walled conference room, her hands shaking as she arranged her notes.
Tyler sat at the head of the long table, looking hollowed out and exhausted.
When he called on her to present her regional strategy, she kept her eyes firmly fixed on the back wall.
“I have a question, Ms. Baker,” he said when she finished.
“Ask away,” she snapped, staring intensely at her notebook.
“Could you look at me while you’re speaking to me, please?”
he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Slowly, reluctantly, she met his gaze.
The sheer, naked longing in his icy blue eyes completely undid her.
Tears spilled over her lashes before she could stop them.
“Excuse me,” she choked out, grabbing her files and bolting from the room.
She practically ran toward the service elevator, desperate to escape the building.
“Megan, wait!”
Tyler called out, his footsteps heavy in the hallway behind her.
She slipped inside the elevator car and hit the lobby button, the doors sliding shut just as he rounded the corner.
“Don’t!”
he shouted.
“That elevator is—”
The car suddenly jolted, the lights flickering violently overhead.
The metal box dropped ten feet in a sickening free-fall before slamming to a halt with a deafening screech.
Megan screamed, thrown to the floor as the emergency alarms began to blare.
“Megan!
Can you hear me?”
Tyler’s voice echoed frantically from the shaft above.
“I think it’s going to fall!”
she sobbed, panic clawing at her throat.
Another ominous groan reverberated through the metal cables.
“I’m coming down,” he yelled, and minutes later, the ceiling hatch was wrenched open.
Tyler dropped into the dark, suspended car, his dress shirt unbuttoned and his eyes wild with fear.
“What are you doing?”
she gasped.
“I’m getting you out,” he said firmly, interlacing his fingers to create a step.
“Boost yourself up.
I’ll follow.”
She scrambled through the hatch, clinging to the greasy maintenance rungs on the wall of the shaft.
Tyler hauled himself up behind her with effortless strength, ignoring the violent groaning of the cables below.
“Hold onto me,” he ordered, wrapping one strong arm securely around her waist.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder as he began the grueling climb upward.
She was acutely aware of his solid chest, the heat of his skin, and the steady thumping of his heart.
When he finally hauled them both through the open doors of the floor above, Megan was shaking uncontrollably.
“Are you okay?”
he demanded, cupping her face in his hands, his thumbs sweeping over her cheekbones.
She nodded, unable to find her voice.
“I almost lost you,” he whispered, the words ragged and raw.
Reality suddenly pierced through the lingering adrenaline haze.
“You’re touching me,” she breathed, staring up into his face.
Tyler blinked, looking down at his hands framing her face.
“Yes,” he said, realization washing over him.
“See?
I told you,” she started to say, but the rest of the sentence was lost.
Tyler’s mouth crashed down on hers, desperate and bruising and perfect.
She kissed him back with everything she had, her fingers tangling in his hair.
He shuddered at the contact, pulling her impossibly closer, a man starved for touch for fifteen years.
“What is going on here?”
a sharp, furious voice sliced through the moment.
They broke apart, chests heaving, to find Brenda standing at the edge of the gathered crowd of maintenance workers.
“Get away from him!”
Brenda ordered, her voice trembling with rage.
“No,” Tyler said calmly, tucking Megan firmly against his side.
“I’ve been holding her for fifteen minutes, Brenda.
I didn’t transform.”
Brenda’s perfect composure fractured entirely, panic bleeding into her eyes.
“You can’t,” she gasped.
“The magician was very clear.
There are no take-backs.”
Megan looked at the terrified sister, the pieces of the puzzle suddenly locking into place.
“You don’t want the curse to be broken,” Megan realized aloud.
“It’s not that he can’t be touched.
It’s that the curse triggers on unwanted touch.”
Tyler frowned, looking between the two women.
“But I never wanted to transform when people touched me.”
“No,” Megan agreed softly, stepping forward.
“But Brenda cursed the pack for protection.
She was afraid of being touched.”
Brenda wrapped her arms around herself, tears spilling over her dark lashes.
“What happened to you, Brenda?”
Megan asked gently.
The kindness in her voice seemed to break whatever fragile dam was holding the older woman together.
“It was at the regional council meeting, fifteen years ago,” Brenda sobbed, burying her face in her hands.
“Another Alpha… he wanted to merge our packs.
I refused him.
He put something in my drink.”
Tyler went completely still, his face draining of color.
“Evelyn,” he whispered, using her real name in his shock.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was the Alpha!”
she cried bitterly.
“I was supposed to protect you!
But when I saw you get drunk at that party, I saw history repeating itself.”
She looked up, her face a mask of ancient, unhealed agony.
“I went to a wish granter.
I wanted us all to be safe from unwanted touch.”
“And the price was your Alpha status,” Tyler realized, the guilt of fifteen years lifting from his shoulders.
“I thought I caused the curse.
I thought my recklessness ruined us.”
“I just wanted to make sure no one could ever hurt us again,” Brenda wept.
Tyler crossed the hallway, pulling his weeping sister into his arms.
“I don’t need protection anymore, Brenda,” he said softly.
“And neither do you.”
Weeks later, they stood together in the dusty, spell-scented shop of a local witch named Stacy.
“The curse can be lifted,” Stacy explained, her blue eyes sharp and knowing.
“Since the wish granter is gone, the magic relies entirely on the wisher’s intent.”
“If your sister no longer desires the protection, the curse will fade.”
It wasn’t an instant fix, but it was a beginning.
Brenda stepped down from the company, entering therapy to finally confront the demons she had buried for a decade and a half.
The pack began the slow, difficult work of unlearning their fear.
For Tyler and Megan, however, the fear was already gone.
Tyler had developed a constant, overwhelming need for physical contact.
He held her hand under the table during board meetings, and he reached for her with unconscious certainty in his sleep.
Megan gave freely what he had been denied for so long, offering casual touches and deep embraces.
“You’re staring again,” Tyler murmured, looking up from his book to find her watching him across the bed.
“Just admiring the view,” she teased, sliding across the mattress to press herself against his side.
“CEO by day, werewolf by night.
It’s a very sexy combination.”
He rolled his eyes, but the warm, genuine smile tugging at his lips betrayed his happiness.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest in the dim light of the bedroom.
“I love you,” he whispered, the words still new enough to send a thrill straight down her spine.
“I love you too, Wolfie,” she replied, resting her head over his heart.
She listened to the steady, strong rhythm beating beneath his ribs, knowing it beat entirely for her.
They had a long road ahead of them, healing the pack and navigating their new reality.
But as long as they faced it together, they were untouchable.
THE END
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Disclaimer
This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. If you would like to share your story, please send it to [email protected].
