Wolf Bite (Wolf Cove #2) (9 page)

Katie’s frown makes me think I’m wrong.

“What?”

“Something’s off.”

“Really?” I look at my reflection again. “Like what?”

“Shoes. Necklace,” Rachel pipes in with her ideas.

Katie’s nodding with her but still looks perplexed. And then
she snaps her finger. “Boobs!” She rifles through her drawer. “You need a bra.”

“I’m wearing a bra.” I frown at myself in the mirror. Does
it look like I’m not wearing a bra?

“36D, right?”

“Right.” I’m not going to ask how she knows.

“Here.” She tosses a lacy black bra at me. “It has
superpowers. Trust me. Turn around.” I do, and her hands are working to unzip
and slip off the top of my dress before unfastening my bra.

I feel both Rachel and Katie’s eyes on me but I put my
self-consciousness away and slip my worn white bra off, quickly exchanging it
for Katie’s.

“See? Much better!” Katie exclaims when I’m redressed and
checking myself in the mirror.

“You’re right.” I can’t explain exactly what is different,
because they still look huge next to my slender waist, but something is definitely
different.

“Can you handle heels?” Rachel pulls out the pair of heels
she was wearing the day she served drinks to Henry and those bigwigs in Lux.

“I can try.” It’s been a while.

Katie throws a silver rope-like necklace around my neck.
“How much time do you have?”

I check my phone. “I should probably leave now.”

“You can be a few minutes late, right?” She grabs her
cosmetics bag.

The old me—the one who wanted to please my boss—would have
said absolutely not.

But I’m guessing my days here are numbered anyway.

“Sure. Why not.”

Chapter Ten

Maybe passive-aggressiveness is my thing, because I
arrive at Penthouse Cabin One seventeen minutes late with an odd sense of
satisfaction. It doesn’t completely erase the dread, though.

Taking a deep breath, I enter through the service entrance,
as usual.

The door that leads into the main cabin is closed. It’s
never been closed.

Do I let myself in?

So much for my satisfaction. Now I’m just confused. Henry’s probably
pissed at me for being late, but I know he hasn’t left because I hear a low
muffled voice. I try pressing my ear against the door but I can’t make out any
words.

Setting my things on the desk, I wander over to the restroom
to take another good look at myself; at the magic that Rachel and Katie managed
to do with twenty minutes.

I hardly recognize myself. With smoky black shadow and thick
fringe of black lashes, my hazel eyes look gold. I suck in my cheeks and turn
my face from side to side, admiring the contouring. I look older. Twenty-five
or twenty-six. They decided to stick with a light gloss on my lips and I’m glad
for it because this is already a big change.

And my hair.... They swept it up in this kind of fancy,
smooth ponytail. When Rachel started teasing and spraying my roots, I panicked,
afraid that they’d cause irreparable damage to my newly colored red hair that I
love so much. But they promised it would all wash out and they knew what they
were doing.

And they must, because I’ve felt the looks all the way here.

I offer my reflection a sad smile. At least I’ll look good
on the outside, even when I’m drowning in agony and disappointment on the
inside.

I frown at the sound of the service phone ringing.

Henry’s calling me from the cabin. We’ve never actually used
this phone, not even once. I pause, contemplating what to say. Finally I decide
on “Hello, Mr. Wolf. How may I be of service to you tonight?”

“Abbi, please come in here.” He hangs up abruptly.

Rolling my eyes and dreading the inevitable, I open the door
and step inside.

Henry’s not alone. His father is with him.

“Hello, Miss Mitchell.” At least William Wolf has a smile
for me this time, one that doesn’t seem entirely hostile. He’s dressed in a
classic tux, complete with black bow tie. His thick head of silver hair is
combed back, much like Henry wears his, only he doesn’t have the curly ends.
All in all, he’s quite dashing.

No one would ever think he has only three years left to
live.

“Hello, sir.” As much as I want to completely ignore Henry,
my eyes veer his way anyway, taking in the black-on-black tux he changed into.
The coat hangs open to reveal the vest beneath, hugging his body so well. He
looks incredible.

And he’s staring at me. His face is impossible to read but
his eyes roam over my body, and in them I see that same heated look he always
gets right before he starts removing my clothes.

Three times, with Roshana. Three times
, I remind
myself.

A lump forms in my throat and I peel my eyes away, focusing
on William Wolf. “Can I get something for you? A drink, perhaps?”

William Wolf holds up the crystal glass of amber liquid already
in his hand, a smirk on his mouth.

Strike one.
I offer him a sheepish grin. “Of course,
I’m sorry. I somehow missed that. What else can I get for you?”

“I’d like you to tell me what happened in the elevator with
my son today.”

Which elevator?

Which son?

“It sounds like Scott behaved offensively with you?”

Oh, right.
I clear my throat. “Yes. I’d say so.”

The two men simply stare at me, and I realize they’re waiting
for me to elaborate.

“He—” My cheeks flush as I replay Scott’s exact words. “He
insisted that Mr. Wolf and I had a more than professional relationship. That,
if I didn’t admit to as much, I would not have a job here when he took over the
hotel, which would be in a few weeks.”

William Wolf’s brow jumps at that but he says nothing.

“And what did he say? About
you
?” Henry prods calmly.

“It sounds like he had me investigated. He knew a lot of
personal information.” It still makes me want to shiver.

“That must have been shocking for you.”

“Yes, it was. In fact, it was terrifying.”

William Wolf tips his glass back before setting it on the
table. “I apologize for my son. He crosses lines when he wants something.”

Again... which son? Because the same could be said for the
one standing next to you.

He turns to Henry. “I’ll see you in the ballroom for the
photo ops.” His thick brow lifts, communicating something silently. “Keep me
informed.”

“As soon as I know for sure.”

What’s going on now?

Mr. Wolf drops a hand on his son’s shoulder. “You’ve done an
excellent job with this place. You’ll run Wolf as well as your grandfather and
I have.” He drops his voice. “And we’ll sort out that other problem. It was one
mistake. We’ve all made them, myself included.”

Henry offers him a curt nod as William turns and walks away,
smiling at me on his way past.

The door closes with a thud.

And I have no idea what to say or do now.

Henry pours himself another drink. I open my mouth to warn
him against it—he has to give a speech tonight—but I bite my tongue. If he
wants to get drunk and make a fool of himself, go right ahead. At least then I
won’t be the only fool around here.

“We should probably get going now, so we’re not late.” I begin
making my way back to the servants’ quarters to collect my things.

“Abbi.”

My feet falter, but I don’t face him.

He heaves a sigh. “In this job, sometimes I have to say
things I don’t mean, and do things I don’t want to do.”

“Oh, you’re saying you didn’t
want
to sleep with her?”

“Would you please turn around.” There’s that edge to his
voice, the one I’ve become familiar with.

I steel myself, and keep my back to him.

“Who
exactly
are you implying that I’ve fucked?”

A strangled laugh escapes my throat. Implying? Now I do turn
around, so I can catch the truth in his eyes, even if he won’t admit to it.
“Who do you think! Roshana Mafi. Remember? The one you insisted should be right
next door.”

He says nothing for a long moment, simply staring at me with
that intimidating gaze. “Why do you think I fucked Roshana Mafi? Because Scott,
my brother who I warned you was a liar and a manipulator, told you so?”

I swallow against the rising lump. I don’t want to get
Belinda in trouble by mentioning her assumptions. “Your hands were all over
each other today. And my roommate said—”

“Oh, well if Scott
and your roommate
say so....” An
annoyed smirk touches his lips. He hides it behind his glass of scotch.

He still hasn’t admitted to it.

But he also hasn’t denied it. I’d love to hope that means it
isn’t true.

I would love to.

“You used me.” I fight the tears threatening.

His brows arch. “And you haven’t used me?”

“No!”

“No? You weren’t desperate to get over your ex-fiancé?”

“This wasn’t about him. I’m—” I cut myself off. Why am I
doing this to myself? There’s just no point. “You know, I’m not feeling well.
If you don’t need me for—”

“I
do
need you. You’re my assistant and you’re not
bailing on me tonight.” He takes a step forward.

I take five steps backward.

He drains his glass and carefully sets it on the table, his
fingers resting on the edges for a long moment as his gaze disappears into
thought. “Look, things between us may have gotten out of hand. I’ve been under
a lot of pressure, and arrogant enough to think that I could do what I want
behind closed doors. It’s made me say and do things I shouldn’t have.” He
sighs. “You’re young and inexperienced, and I’ve made a few mistakes with you,
and for that, I’m sorry.”

Is that what I am? A few mistakes for Henry?

“I think it’s time I start acting like the man my father thinks
I am. At least I can be honest, going forward.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means you’re my assistant and I’m your boss and we should
take a step back and focus on that for right now.”

He expects me to just pretend none of this happened? Come in
here day in, day out? “I can’t do this. I can’t work for you anymore,” I hear
myself say, and the moment the words escape me, I know they’re true. Painful,
but true.

Henry levels me with a calm look. “You want to go back to
the farm? To your controlling mother and your ex-boyfriend who’s fucking his
girlfriend in barns all over town? Go back to, what, baling hay and praying in
church and being good-girl Abigail who sells soaps at the bazaar and pines over
your lost love? You’ll be miserable.” He has the audacity to smirk. Probably
because he’s right and we both know it.

Just thinking about going back to Greenbank has tension
cording my neck. “No. I don’t want to go back there.”

“I didn’t think so. So, we’ll just wipe the slate—”

“I can’t work for you.”

He frowns. “Everyone here works for me, Abbi.”

“Move me to Outdoor.” That’s where I was supposed to be to
begin with.

“No.” Henry’s denial comes hard and fast.

He doesn’t think I can handle that department. “Fine, then Housekeeping
or—”

“No. It’s this job or no job.”

“Why?”

He hesitates. “Because you’re a good assistant, and I need a
good assistant. I trust you. And because I’m the boss.”

I grit my jaw against the urge to scream at him. How on
earth am I going to show up here every day and pretend that nothing’s happened
between us? That he hasn’t hurt me? So now I’m, what, going to trail him
around, booking meetings and taking notes, and pretending none of this ever
happened?

He’s basically ending things with me a day after he said he
wanted us to work out and then fucked around with someone else. I’m not sure
which part I’m more upset about.

“I can’t do it.”

“Well, that’s your choice. Either stay on at Wolf Cove as my
assistant, or hand in your resignation and go back to Greenbank. It’s up to you,
and I expect an answer by tomorrow.” He collects his phone and printed speech. “We
should go. We don’t want to be late.”

What are my options here? Run to the cabin now, and I’m
guessing the ultimatum he just delivered is off the table. I’ll be on the first
ferry home tomorrow morning. Stay and face Henry day in, day out, and pretend
that he hasn’t seen me naked, hasn’t kissed me, hasn’t been inside me, hasn’t
made me scream out with ecstasy?

Hasn’t lied to me, hasn’t hurt me?

He strolls past me, the smell of his cologne swirling past
him in a tantalizing haze, his gaze sliding over my dress. “You look nice
tonight.”

For some reason his compliment feels like a slap, and I
flinch.

Calm and collected Henry is back. Whatever connection we
shared yesterday has been severed with the fine blade of betrayal, and it
doesn’t even faze him.

I don’t know what the right choice is. Which choice I’ll
regret more. But right now, there’s nothing I can do but follow him toward the
door.

He pauses, his hand on the handle. “I’d tell you that I didn’t
fuck Roshana, nor do I have any intention of doing so, but it sounds like
you’ve already made up your mind about me, and I’m not going to beg you to
believe me. I don’t beg.”

He steps out into the cool spring evening, the Alaskan sun buried
behind the thick, dark onslaught of storm clouds that spark with lightning and
threaten a downpour, his fingers splayed to hold the door open for me.

This time I’m the one who keeps the healthy distance between
us as we walk along the path, a good three feet of it.

“Henry!”

I look to my left in time to see Roshana sashaying down the
path from her cabin in a flowing one-sleeve dress, her dark skin radiant
against the snowy white of the silk material. She’s obviously been at the salon
because her blue nails are now tipped with white and her hair is styled smooth
and long.

She looks like a bride in that dress.

“Walk with me.” She shuffles her purse to her other arm,
freeing her left hand.

Henry doesn’t hesitate to offer her his arm, bending down to
lay a kiss on her cheek. “You look ravishing tonight.”

Ravishing. Not simply “nice.”

I fall into step behind them, steeling myself for a lot of
pain.