The Betas: Rene' (Werewolves of Manhattan Book 8) Read online

  Table of Contents

  The Betas: René

  Blurb

  Copyright Acknowledgement

  Trademarks Acknowledgment

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  Editor’s Note

  About the Author

  MLR Press

  The Betas: René

  Werewolves of Manhattan

  A.C. Katt

  www.mlrpress.com

  Blurb

  When attending a wedding, Frank Ferone is introduced to René DuBois, a violet eyed stranger. René has a secret to hide but can’t overlook that he’s met his mate. René starts to romance Frankie and soon Frankie falls in love. But how is he going to react when René tells Frankie he is loup garou. Werewolves? Really?

  Copyright Acknowledgement

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2017 by A.C. Katt

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  Published by

  MLR Press, LLC

  3052 Gaines Waterport Rd.

  Albion, NY 14411

  Visit ManLoveRomance Press, LLC on the Internet:

  www.mlrpress.com

  Cover Art by Jared Rackler

  Editing by Kris Jacen

  Print format: ISBN# 978-1-64122-011-8

  eBook format available

  Issued 2017

  This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher.

  Trademarks Acknowledgment

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Airbus: Airbus S.A.S.

  Amazon: Amazon.com, Inc.

  American Girl: Mattel, Inc.

  Apple: Apple, Inc.

  Aurora 88 (pens): Aurora

  Barneys: Barneys New York

  Best Buy: Best Buy

  Better than Bouillon: Southeastern Mills, Inc.

  Boeing: The Boeing Company

  Breguet Perpetual Calendar: Breguett

  Caddy: General Motors

  Camus: Camus

  Charles Heidsieck Vintage Brut 1990: Compagnie Champenoise PH-CH

  Château Pailhas Grand Cru: Château Pailhas

  Citizen Quartz: Citizen Watch Company of America, Inc.

  Coke: The Coca-Cola Company

  Columbia: Trustees of Columbia University in the City of New York

  Culinary Institute of America: The Culinary Institute of America

  Ferrari: Ferrari S.P.A.

  Forbes: Forbes, Inc.

  Gamblers Anonymous: Gamblers Anonymous International Service Office

  GE: General Electric

  Godiva: Godiva

  Google: Google, Inc.

  Harvard: President and Fellows of Harvard College

  Heineken: Heineken Brouwerijen

  IKEA: Inter IKEA Systems B.V.

  iTunes: Apple, Inc.

  Kindle: Amazon Technologies, Inc.

  Krug, Ambonnay cuvée: MHCS - Champagne Krug

  Lobb: John Lobb

  Manhattan Community College: The City University of New York

  Navigator: Ford Motor Company

  NYU: New York University

  Patek Philippe Perpetual Calendar: Patek Philippe SA

  Play-Doh: Hasbro

  RENT: Billy Aronson and the Estate of Jonathan Larson

  Taylor (port): Taylor’s Port

  The Godfather: Alfran Productions; Paramount Pictures

  Veuve Clicquot Demi Sec: Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin

  Walmart: Wal-Mart Stores, Inc.

  Prologue

  Brides’s Room

  Don (Dante) Ferone’s Restaurant

  Mulberry Street, Little Italy, Manhattan

  1994–Spring

  Frankie Fitzgerald and his mother were alone in the Bride’s Room. She stood in front of the mirror, dreamy-eyed, adjusting her veil.

  “I don’t understand, Mom. Why are you marrying this man? He’s a gangster.”

  “What are you talking about, Frankie? Dante Ferone is a good man. He’s no gangster, he loves me very much. What gangster adopts another man’s child? Dante wants to be your father,” Brigit Fitzgerald told her son.

  “He’s not my father. You’re marrying this man before Dad’s body is even cold.”

  “Dante was your father’s friend and took care of us when your dad died.” His mother turned huffy. She frowned and tightened her lips. “Where did you ever hear a nasty expression like that?”

  “The neighbors are talking. I overheard Mrs. Richards, next door.”

  “Mrs. Richards knows nothing. I told you, Dante loves me. You should be happy that someone loves me and wants to take care of us.”

  “He runs the mob…”

  “Nonsense, you’ve been listening to that old biddy. Mrs. Richards has no idea what she’s talking about. Dante is a well-respected businessman who imports olive oil from Italy and Spain and owns this restaurant.”

  Frankie shook his head. “Mom, get your head out of the clouds. If he’s legit, why does he have those goons constantly around him?”

  “What did I tell you about lazy English? Legit indeed, and shame on you. Those men are his bodyguards, not goons. He explained that to us. Dante needs to be careful. He’s a very wealthy man, and there is a constant danger of kidnapping.”

  “You believe that…you actually believe that…” Frankie took a deep breath and clenched his fists.

  His mother grasped his shoulders. “Hush now. Dante loves us both. Why would he want to make you his son, if he didn’t love you? After all, he doesn’t have to adopt you. He wants to be your father.”

  Despite his respect for his mother, Frankie’s voice turned cold. “I had a father. He died in Bosnia. I don’t need another one.”

  “I don’t understand you. Dante has been nothing but good to you.”

  He stiffened. “I’m gay. Have you told my new stepfather that yet? My father was a soldier, and he didn’t mind.”

  “No, I haven’t told him yet, but…” A twenty-pound weight settled in Frankie’s stomach.

  § § §

  Harvard Graduation

  May 2007

  Other families with graduates in full regalia streamed past Frankie and his mother as they walked away from Tercentenary Theatre to the special commencement parking area. Frankie had just received his MBA and made a speech as valedictorian of his graduating class. He had maintained a perfect grade point average. Despite his laudable achievement, he frowned at his stepfather.

  Dante took Frankie’s seven-year-
old brother by the hand and traveled on ahead to pull the car up closer to the commencement area. His mother’s arthritis pained her and it was difficult for her to walk too far. Her RA had been triggered by her pregnancy and in the intervening years had only gotten worse.

  Frankie was grateful that for once, Dante’s goons hadn’t accompanied them. Dante Ferone had wanted this to be an intimate family experience for his wife, so they’d gone incognito.

  Frankie complained to his mother, “I’ve applied for jobs all over Manhattan. I have a four-point-oh average, letters of recommendation from all my professors, and I barely got an internship. No one will hire me, Mom, because I’m Dante Ferone’s stepson.”

  “Silly, of course you have someone to hire you…your father wants you to come and work for him. He has a position as his financial assistant for you. After all he’s done for you, it’s time to help him out. He says his personal assets are a mess, and he needs someone who knows what he’s doing to take charge of them. He decided to ask you.”

  Frankie’s lips tightened. “Dante probably wants to hire me because of you and not my abilities. He doesn’t want his gay stepson constantly under his nose.” Frankie sounded bitter, even to his own ears.

  His mother shook her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you. Dante has offered you every accommodation.”

  “What’s wrong with me is he’s not my father,” Frankie rasped.

  “He adopted you. That makes him your father in every sense but biological. Now he’s offering you a job when you can’t get one anywhere else. If you had that attitude when you went on interviews, it’s no wonder no one would hire you.” His mother pursed her lips then she sighed and patted his shoulder. “I know you two didn’t get along while you were a teen. Now you’re a grownup. Give him a chance. Go and work for Dante for a little while. He’ll give you a sterling recommendation, and he has an excellent reputation in the business community. By helping Dante, you secure your and your brother’s legacy. After working for your father for a little while, you’ll get a letter of recommendation with his signature. After that, you can find another job or, who knows,” his mother smiled, “you might like working for your father.”

  She doesn’t have a clue, Frankie thought, but she’s my mother. I love her. I can’t destroy her world by making her take off the rose-colored glasses. She loves this man, and he obviously loves her, or else he’d cut me loose.

  “Honey, would it be so bad for you to stay local and work for your father, so I could see you more often than I have since you went to Harvard?”

  Frankie took a deep breath. I’m not going to win this one. “I suppose not, but I want to get my own apartment. I’m not going to be a monk. I want to date, and I’m sure Dante doesn’t want an orchestra seat for that play.”

  “Don’t be that way. Dante isn’t prejudiced. He took me to see RENT.”

  “I give up.” Frankie rolled his eyes. “All right I’ll go to work for Dante, but I insist on living in my own space. I’ve been on my own for the last six years, except for vacations. I even took classes during the summer. I’m not coming home to have my life monitored by my mother, and he’s not my father.”

  They reached the curb, Dante pulled up in the Caddy, and the discussion was tabled. Later on that day, at the graduation party Dante threw for him, his stepfather took him aside to talk.

  “I didn’t pay for your education to have you take all that expertise somewhere else. Give me ten years, and I’ll consider us even. But you will not flaunt your sexuality in my or my men’s faces.”

  Frankie, aware of how much money Dante had spent on his education, and having no way of paying him back, had to agree. Despair threatened to drown him.

  § § §

  Present Day

  Eight Days before the Julien, Richard, Henri, and Vitas Reception

  Frankie answered his cell. “Julien? What can I do for you?”

  “…and Vitas is in mortal danger. Henri’s people are in Alaska, and it will take at least eighteen hours to get them here. If the other men on the Board of Directors send their security to Henri, that leaves them vulnerable to the same mad Russian. Henri will gladly pay you and your men to cover his house.”

  “You’re a friend, I don’t charge friends. Call Henri and tell him my men will be there within the hour.”

  The back of Frankie’s neck prickled. Julien wouldn’t ask unless the situation was dire. Frankie had a feeling that there was more to this request than a simple job. He made some calls.

  Chapter One

  Henri and Vitas’ Townhouse

  The Wedding Reception for Alphas Bellaire and Giraud

  Sunday

  Frankie Ferone arrived late to the reception just in time to see Henri and Vitas before they snuck away upstairs. He caught sight of Julien speaking to a dark-haired, violet-eyed stranger. Julien raised his hand in greeting, and Frankie quickly made his way across the room. He wanted an introduction.

  § § §

  René had the day off and didn’t want to attend the reception at Alpha Giraud’s home to celebrate his and Alpha Bellaire’s weddings to their Alpha Mates. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Alphas Bellaire or Giraud. He liked them fine. He also approved of the Alpha Mates the gods had chosen. René just wanted to spend a day in his own house doing whatever. As the Beta charged with security for The Alpha and assigned to The Alpha Mate, most of the time his life was not his own. However, his brother Martin, The Alpha’s other Beta, had insisted he attend. Since Martin never asked him for something unimportant, René had acquiesced.

  All the Alphas and their Mates had shown an unusual interest in him today. At first, he’d planned to make a perfunctory appearance, but upon his arrival, one person after another had engaged him in conversation. René felt as if he were the most popular person at the party. He’d spoken to every Alpha and all the Alpha Mates. Eying the door, he planned his escape, but Alpha Bellaire waylaid him with another question about security that René thought, sourly, he could have asked his own Beta.

  The doorbell rang, and Bertrand answered. He announced…René sniffed the air…chocolate…dark chocolate-covered caramel. He lifted his head, then choked…his Mate. That was his Mate, and he smelled like chocolate candy. Alpha Bellaire smiled and gestured his Mate toward them. He scanned the room. Everybody was smiling. Martin wore a smug expression. They knew, they all knew. How could they have known? Vitas! Oh, my gods, Vitas told them.

  Julien stepped up to greet him. “Hello, Frankie. Richard, Henri, Vitas, and I are happy you made it.” He cleared his throat. “Oh, I’m rude. You don’t know René. René DuBois, Frankie Ferone. Frankie, René DuBois. René heads up security for Mr. La Marche.” Julien faced René. “You may know Frankie’s father, Dante Ferone.”

  His Mate’s smile grew tight. “Dante is my stepfather. He adopted me when I was twelve. My father’s name was Francis Xavier Fitzgerald. He was an Army Ranger who fell to a Serbian bullet in the Bosnian War. My mother married Dante when I was eleven.”

  I need to smooth the waters here. Julien has annoyed my Mate. “I’m sorry for your loss. It’s devastating to lose a parent, especially as a young boy.” Curious, René couldn’t help but ask, “Do you work for your stepfather?”

  Frankie frowned. “I have, albeit reluctantly, for the past ten years. I’m desperately searching for alternate employment. Unfortunately, that’s difficult when your last name is Ferone. Julien promised to give my résumé to Mr. LaMarche. I’ve heard he needs a financial assistant. While I’ve worked for my stepfather, I took care of his personal finances, and I managed to triple his holdings without doing anything illegal—something Dante fails to appreciate.”

  “My brother and I work for Mr. La Marche,” René told him. “Martin is his Chief Deputy, and I head up his personal security.”

  Frankie suddenly appeared hopeful, as if he thought René could help him. “I have an MBA from Harvard, carried a four-point-oh average, and graduated as the valedictorian of my class, b
ut I couldn’t get work because of my last name.”

  “The Al…Mr. La Marche wouldn’t hold your name against you. When necessary, he deals with your stepfather. However, there may be other considerations. I promise I’ll speak to him tonight. Is your stepfather on board for you to poke around for something else?”

  Frankie nodded. “When I first went to work for him, he demanded ten years in payment for my education. Since I couldn’t get a job anywhere else, I agreed.”

  René was incensed for his Mate. “That’s slave labor.”

  At that moment Julien quietly excused himself.

  Frankie sighed. “I did it because of my mother. She doesn’t see Dante as he is. After all these years, she still sees him as a legitimate businessman, and I’ve given up trying to tell her differently. It will be ten years this month. You can say what you want about Dante, but I’ve never known him to go back on his word. I think he’s counting on me not being able to find employment elsewhere.”

  “You said your father’s name was Fitzgerald? Irish, isn’t it?” Bertrand came up behind them, and René grabbed his drink from Bertrand’s tray.

  “Can I get you anything, Mr. Ferone?”

  Frankie seemed to glance over to see what René was drinking. “Yes, black Irish, if you will.” His Frankie changed the subject. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are you drinking?” He scrutinized the drink René held.

  René felt his skin turn hot. Wolves weren’t supposed to blush. He tried to cover by appearing nonchalant. “I like sweet drinks. This one’s called Sex on the Beach. I know it’s not manly, but there it is.”

  “Sex on the Beach.” Frankie chuckled. “What’s in it?”

  René held his drink up, and Frankie sniffed, almost wolflike. “Vodka, Peach Schnapps, pineapple juice, cranberry juice, and Chambord—it’s a very sweet drink— fruity.”

  “I like sweet drinks.” Frankie’s lips turned up at the corners. “Bertrand, please, I’ll have one of these.”