Page 2 of Auditing the Alpha

“Klaus,” he corrected, handing me a mug that was practically a bowl.

“Klaus,” I repeated, trying not to notice how his fingers brushed mine. “As I mentioned on the phone, this is a standard review. We’ve been contracted by the state to examine businesses that have shown certain… patterns in their tax filings.”

He dropped into a leather chair that creaked under his weight. “You think I’m cheating on my taxes.” His expression was unreadable behind that magnificent beard.

“I think nothing yet,” I said diplomatically, opening my briefcase. “I’m here to gather information.”

“Hmm.” He leaned back, one eyebrow raised. “And how long will you be… gathering?”

The way he said it made it sound indecent. I cleared my throat. “Three days, maybe four. I’ve booked a room at the Pine Peaks Inn.”

Something flickered in his eyes. “Martha Wilson’s place. She’ll talk your ear off.”

“I’m not here to socialize,” I assured him, pulling out my laptop.

Klaus made a sound that might have been a laugh. “No, you’re here to find out if I’m a criminal.”

I sighed and met his gaze directly. “Mr. Wolff—Klaus. I’m just doing my job. If everything’s in order, I’ll be out of your hair quickly.”

He leaned forward suddenly, and the air in the room seemed to thicken. “What if I don’t want you out of my hair quickly?”

My mouth went dry.What the hell am I supposed to say to that?

I was saved by the sound of the front door banging open and voices calling out. Klaus’s expression shifted to mild annoyance.

“Family,” he explained, standing. “They don’t knock.”

Before I could process this, three men who were clearly related to Klaus burst into the office. All tall, all built like they bench-pressed trees for fun, all with the same golden-amber eyes. They stopped short when they saw me, and I swear to god they allinhaledsimultaneously.

“Boys,” Klaus said with a warning note in his voice. “This is Jordan Chase. The auditor.”

The tallest one—slightly younger than Klaus but just as broad—grinned. “The city boy! Finally made it, huh?” He extended a hand. “I’m Theo. That’s Liam and Raff.”

I shook his hand, noting it was just as unnaturally warm as Klaus’s. “Nice to meet you.”

“You’re staying for dinner,” announced the one named Liam. Not a question.

“Oh, I couldn’t impose—” I started.

“Not an imposition,” Klaus cut in. “Family dinner. Seven o’clock.”

I looked between the four men, all staring at me with identical intensity. What was with this family and personal boundaries?

“I should get settled at the inn first,” I said.

Klaus nodded. “Raff will take your bags over. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”

And just like that, it was decided. I watched in bemused silence as Raff—who hadn’t spoken a word—picked up my suitcase with one hand like it was empty and headed out.

“Wait!” I called, following him. “That has my personal belongings—”

Klaus’s hand landed on my shoulder, stopping me with gentle pressure. “He’ll put it in your room. Martha knows you’re coming.” His hand slid down to my lower back. “Now, those tax documents?”

I spent the next three hours combing through the Wolff Family Tree Farm’s financial records while fighting two battles: one professional, one personal.

Professionally, I was annoyed because everything seemed impeccably in order. Sales records, expense accounts, payroll—all meticulously documented. The “irregularities” that had flagged their file were starting to look like nothing more than the seasonal nature of a Christmas tree business.

Personally, I was losing my mind because Klaus Wolff apparently had no concept of professional distance. He stood behind my chair, breath warm on my neck as I scrolled through spreadsheets. When I shivered (from the proximity, not cold—the room was like a sauna), he casually draped a heavy knit blanket over my shoulders. When I reached for a file, his fingers would brush mine. At one point, he noticed me rubbing my hands together and simply enclosed them in his, massaging warmth back into my fingers.