The Werewolf Order (Erotica)

Jessie’s POV

Patrick stood protectively in front of me as I stood in the corner of the office, staring at the men who had just burst in. The three men lowered their weapons and yelled the place was clear. “почему ты в моем офисе (Why are you in my office)”, Olga asked. “In English, please,” nodding towards us.

“Our investigation in St. Petersburg turned up an imminent threat to Miss Donato,” one of the men said. I looked behind him, Svetlana was in handcuffs and crying as she was led out of the office between two large officers. “Your secretary has a brother in the Russian Mob. The police captured him this morning, and while he was being interrogated his phone started getting text messages from Svetlana saying that Jessie Donato was in your office and asking why she hadn’t been killed yet. She offered to do it for the reward money, not realizing that offer expired with Yuri Zubkov.”

I mulled this over in my head, and a light came on. “That’s how they found me,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“The car bomb in Sergiyev Posad. Svetlana told them my real name, and that I was here to claim Yuri’s estate.” Patrick looked at me, it came together for him as well.

“Her brother confessed to the whole thing, he wants to spare her a long prison term. On his phone we found your photos, the legal documents, everything. She was feeding him information from your first visit.” The officers started to clear out. “We had to move fast before she could harm you.”

“Thank you,” I said as I moved out from behind Patrick. “Do you need me to make a statement?”

“She’s due in court in thirty minutes,” Olga said.

The man shook his head. “Let us sort this out, if she pleads out we won’t need it.”

“You can contact my lawyer, she will make arrangements if needed,” I said. “I plan to be in Moscow for a few weeks.” He handed me his card and we shook hands before he departed with the rest of his men. “Well, that will get the blood pumping,” I said as I sat down.

“You should relax, stress isn’t good for the baby,” Patrick said.

Olga’s eyes widened. “Congratulations,” she said.

“Honeymoon baby,” I smiled. “Part of why I want to get this court case over with.”

She sat down in her chair, her face showed the betrayal she felt. “I can’t believe Svetlana would do this to me, to my clients. I’ve known her for years.”

“A lot of people do weird things when a fortune is offered,” I said. “How could you know?”

She pinched her nose between her eyes, then took a deep breath and looked at me. “I will understand if you want different representation. Ultimately I’m responsible, and I breached your trust.”

I reached over and held her hand. “I want to get this over with, and you are still my lawyer. There’s one more thing we need now,” I said. “I need a will. Simple, until I get everything straightened out. Everything left to John Seamus Pearson, Cluny Castle, Scotland.” She pulled up a standard will, asked me a few questions then printed it out. A call to a neighboring office brought in a second witness, who signed with Patrick after I did to make it official. “This is very basic, we really need to talk after you have the assets because a large estate like that needs planning for tax reasons alone,” she said.

“Shouldn’t we get to court?”

She nodded and got up, putting her papers in her briefcase. “You can ride with us, I brought plenty of security,” Patrick said. Fifteen minutes later, we were going through the metal detectors at the Courthouse. The entrance had been a zoo, the information on the hearing was publicly available and the press was out. Patrick had me put a bulletproof vest on under my blouse, and he and his men surrounded me as we got out of the vehicles. I ignored the press, leaving them outside, and most of my security men stayed at the entrance or with the cars. Patrick, Olga and I rode up with two plainclothes Police who were members of the Moscow Pack.

The courtroom had been emptied of all but the lawyers and court staff, so the judge didn’t waste any time. Yuri’s lawyers showed up, but his death certificate had already been filed in St. Petersburg. His claim was dismissed, and with my parentage proven, the decision was that all of Yevgheny Zubkov’s possessions were to be passed on to me. “This is a large estate, and a big responsibility,” the Judge told me. “There are still portions of the estate that are tied up in police investigations, and that is a separate matter for you and your lawyer to deal with. I hope you will be a better steward, and a better person than your father was.”

“Thank you, your honor.” With that, the hearing ended. Olga gathered her papers and walked me to the doors. “It sounds like you have a lot of work left.”

She laughed. “I don’t mind, my fee on an estate this size makes it worth it. Plus, it’s to my advantage to free those assets and get them into your hands so I can get my cut. Come on, some people are waiting for you.” Sure enough, Patrick was waiting outside the doors and I hugged him tight as Olga waited.

“It’s over, it’s finally over,” I said.

“True. Now you’re just one of the richest people in Russia, so the security has to continue. We can’t have you kidnapped or harmed, you know. John would kill me if I let anything happen to you.”

We walked towards the elevator as I talked about my plans for the money. I’d never imagined this kind of wealth, and it was a bit mind-boggling to know that I could just make a phone call, buy a private jet, and not make a dent in my fortune. Patrick still had control over a large portion of the money I’d gotten from Yuri after faking my death. He’d already made plans to return the commercial real estate we’d gotten at a big discount to the Pack, as soon as the matter of leadership was settled. Too many members of Yuri’s inner circle were still at large to do anything now, and the Council was just starting to pick up the pieces.

We returned to the Pack House in a jubilant mood. I changed into more comfortable clothes, then we joined the Pack for lunch. There was no set start time, so we were able to eat and then socialize. Patrick took me to various tables, where I was introduced and got to use my poor Russian skills. No one seemed to mind, many were impressed that I had learned so much when my Russian heritage had only been revealed a few months ago. “If you live here for a year, you’ll be speaking like a native,” one of the Pack members promised me. “I met my Anatoly and moved here from Australia, and I didn’t know a lick of Russian when we mated. I had to carry a pocket translator with me for the first few months,” she laughed.

“The bond can transmit emotions, so it wasn’t that bad,” her mate said. “And not many words were needed that first month or so.” She turned red and smacked him while we laughed.

“I know how that is,” I said as my hand drifted to my lower stomach. “John and I spent the first weeks of mated life on an island, cut off from all contact with others. It was amazing, and it worked.”

“How far along?”

“Five weeks,” I said. “Just starting the morning sickness phase.” We chatted about children, she had two in day care and two at school.

“After lunch I’ll show you the Pack School and Day Care,” Patrick promised. “The children have been waiting for a chance to meet their Luna.”

We excused ourselves, meeting a few more on the way out, and I elbowed him as soon as we were out of the room. “You can’t call me their Luna, Abrianna is the Luna here.”Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

“She is temporary, she knows it and the Pack does too. As good as she is, this is a retirement job, something being done to help out a Pack that would fall apart. She will be happy to hand it to you, or Mischa, as soon as you are ready to take it.” I followed him through the halls, and we headed towards an elevator and took it to the roof level. “Come on, the children want to meet you.”

“Outside? It’s barely above freezing!”

“Moscow is like Minnesota, they are outside all the time. I think you’ll like this feature of the Pack House, though. My Dad needs one of these for our Pack.” The doors opened, not into the chilly winds, but into tropical warmth. The smell of a swimming pool and blooming flowers filled the air, and I looked out in wonder at the huge sunroom that took up most of the rooftop. Children were screaming and playing together in the pool, some in wolf forms, others in swimsuits. Adults were watching the pool, while others were gathered at the tables doing work. “Cool, huh?”

“Wow.” I didn’t know what to say, I could see how important something like this would be during a Moscow winter. I didn’t get to say much, because little voices started shrieking about how Luna Jessie was here. I didn’t know what to do as children from ages two to eight or so came racing towards me, hugging my legs and lifting their arms for me to pick them up. I looked at one of the teachers, and after a flurry of Russian the children had backed off and sat down.

“I’m sorry, they get a little excited,” the teacher said.

“It’s quite all right. Привет, меня зовут Джесси Донато (Hello children, my name is Jessie Donato.)”