by Nina West
“It’s just his way of coping. He’ll ease up soon.” I think. Henry has been sliding into bed after I’ve drifted off every night, and is either sweating his tension out in his home gym, or on the phone when I wake. The only proof I’ve had that he’s actually slept is his gold watch sitting on the nightstand and the delicious smell of his cologne on his pillow.
We’ve shared nothing more than tender kisses since France.
For Henry to go four days without sex, with me ready and willing to give him whatever he wants?
He’s hurting.
Miles runs a hand through his mop of curly brown hair. “He asked me to do, like, a thousand things and now I have a thousand follow-ups for him. I don’t want to bug him, but at the same time, I know he’s going to ask for a status update as soon as he walks into the office and expect it to be taken care of, and I’m not going to have any answers for him and he’s going to think I’m an idiot and fire my ass. I don’t want to get fired. I like working for him!” His face is pinched with stress.
I remember this feeling too well, back when I didn’t think I could do anything right where Henry was concerned. “I’ll ask him to carve out some time for you as soon as he’s ready, so you two can sort out any questions you might have.”
Miles sighs with relief. “Thank you. I guess it must have been a lot different for you, working for him. You know, because you two were....” His gaze drops to my ample chest, which, while it’s well-covered by this shift dress, is still noticeable. “I mean, because he obviously had a hard on for you so.... No, wait! I mean....” His face screws up.
I can’t help but laugh. I’ve only ever talked to Miles when he’s confirming Henry’s schedule or booking flights for me. On email and text, Miles seems so professional and smart. I wonder if he’s always so frazzled in person, or if it’s just because of the current situation. Something tells me it’s the latter, because Henry wouldn’t tolerate a bumbling fool assistant for long.
He gives me a sheepish smile. “I think it’s cool. You know, that Wolf would fall for you. He could have anyone he wanted. Gorgeous women are throwing themselves at him all the time, but he’s completely into you. I mean, not that you’re not gorgeous, because you are, too. Like, really hot. But you’re different than all the others. You’re normal. Fuck, I need to stop talking. Please don’t tell him I said anything. He’ll fire me.”
I giggle. “He won’t hear it from me.”
Miles sighs. “Fuck, I’m going back to the office. He can find me there.”
I watch the tall, lanky guy speed away, amusement on my face.
“He’s certainly in a rush.”
I turn to find an attractive older woman—mid-fifties, maybe—filling a mug with coffee beside me. She’s dressed in a well-cut black pantsuit, emphasizing a trim waist and appealing curves. Her hair, the color of spun gold, settles on her shoulders in a sleek bob.
“He’s just a bit overwhelmed right now. He’s Henry Wolf’s assistant.” I don’t know why I add that last part.
The woman’s piercing blue eyes flash with recognition. “He’s not going to last long working for a Wolf if he can’t find some decorum.”
Something about her is so familiar, but I can’t peg it. “Do you work for Wolf Hotels?”
“I used to, for a short time. A very long time ago, now.” She chuckles as she stirs the sugar through her coffee, the metal spoon clanging softly against porcelain. “And you? Do you work there?”
“I used to. Also for a short time.”
“Well, it’s nice of you to pay your respects. Did you know William?”
“No. I mean, I met him once but I didn’t know him. I know his son. Henry. I know him well.” I stumble over the answer Henry prescribed earlier. I haven’t had to use it yet.
The woman pauses in her stirring, her curious gaze skating over my features, as if really taking me in for the first time. “And how is Henry taking his father’s passing?”
“As well as can be expected.”
“Working a lot?”
“Day and night.” I frown slightly. “Do you know Henry?”
“Not really.” She smiles sadly. “I’m guessing he’s a lot like his father, though.”
“So I’ve heard.” The water bottles are beginning to sweat within my grasp. I’ve been gone too long. “Speaking of Henry, I need to get this to him before he loses his voice.” Somehow, “enjoy the visitation” doesn’t sound right. So I simply hold up the water for emphasis and then, with a smile, I turn and head back toward the room.
The crowd has thinned out somewhat, with only half an hour left before the room closes to visitors. I weave through the staggered groups of two and three until I reach Henry’s side to wordlessly hand him his bottle and set a hand on his bicep in comfort.
He abruptly stops talking. And suddenly I feel like I’m interrupting a private conversation.
When I turn to take in the woman’s face, I’m sure I’ve interrupted a private conversation.
Whoever she is, she’s stunning. Her long brunette hair hangs like sheets of silk over her shoulders to reach halfway down her back. Her eyes remind me of cat’s eyes—wide, almond-shaped, and bright green. And her legs... they’re obscenely long. Like, unnaturally so.
And the way she’s looking at me from beneath that thick fringe of eyelashes, the corners of her full mouth turned downward with a hint of distaste? She’s sizing me up as competition that she can easily squash.
Henry clears his throat. “Abbi... this is Kiera. Kiera... Abbi Mitchell.”
My chest tightens.
This is Kiera? The Kiera. Henry’s ex-assistant. The one who he had an affair with. The one who falsely accused him of rape. The one who is obviously still madly in love with him, by the look in her eyes.
My fingers dig into Henry’s bulging muscle. “You have a lot of nerve,” I begin in a whispered hiss.
“Abbi... remember where we are,” Henry warns softly.
Right. At his father’s visitation. Slapping her across her pouty face—as much as she deserves it, as badly as I want to do it—is the wrong thing to do.
So instead of that, I press into Henry’s hard body and force a wide, fake smile. “Hello, Kiera. It’s so nice to finally meet you.” I sound like Tillie, the catty southern bell from Wolf Cove who is masterful at delivering sweet words laced with cutting bitterness. I release Henry’s arm long enough to offer my hand.
She responds with a limp shake—which I squeeze—and a tight smile behind her wince. I notice there isn’t a wedding band on her left ring finger. I guess her husband didn’t stick around after finding out the sexual relationship she’d had with her boss was 100 percent consensual.
“Let me know if you think that could work,” she purrs, her eyes locked on Henry, ignoring me.
“Thank you for coming,” he answers smoothly, seemingly unperturbed by her presence.
Henry may be mine, but I still feel like vomiting as I watch her turn and stroll away, her mile-long legs emphasized by the tight black skirt. “I’ll bet she can’t even find pants for those things,” I mutter.
Henry chuckles. “Don’t be petty.”
I sigh, reminding myself that Henry’s not attracted to insecurity. “What does she need your help with?”
He cracks open his water and takes a swig. The line to pay condolences has dwindled, and he has a break finally. “She wants to work for me again.”
My mouth drops open. “For Wolf Hotels?”
He pauses, as if deciding what to say. “For me. As my assistant.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? The nerve!” I blurt out, a touch too loud. “Well... you have Miles, so... you’re good. You don’t need another assistant.” The last thing I care about right now is Miles’s job. I don’t want that woman anywhere near Henry.
“I do have Miles,” Henry agrees, taking another long sip. I can’t read his tone, and that makes my paranoia begin to grow.
I drop my voice to remind him, “And she accused
you of rape.”
“She did,” he says too calmly.
“Henry!”
He turns to cup my cheek with his warm palm, his crystal blue eyes locking with mine. “I don’t need a new assistant, and she accused me of rape, and I know you wouldn’t be okay with it, so, no, there’s no way in hell Kiera’s coming back to Wolf in any capacity.”
“Oh.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “You handled her well.”
“I humored her to get her the hell away from me. I wasn’t going to cause a scene here.” His lips curve into a sexy curve. “You, on the other hand.... I thought you were going to claw her eyes out.”
I offer a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I saw red. I wasn’t thinking.”
His hand settles on the small of my back. “That’s okay. I think I liked it.” His fingertips slide down to trace the elastic waistband of my panties through my dress. “My money’d be on you, too.”
I clear my throat and give him a cautionary look. There are undoubtedly people watching. “By the way, you need to make some time for Miles.”
Henry’s brow rises in question.
“I ran into him in the lobby. He looked overwhelmed.”
He sighs. “I’ve probably been overworking him.”
“You’ve been overworking, period.”
Another sigh. “I don’t want him quitting on me. He’s good.”
I wonder what Henry would say if I repeated Miles’s words. Either laugh it off or fire him. There’s rarely an in-between with this man. “Just give him some of your time so he can ask his questions and do his job. Let him know that you appreciate him, and he won’t be going anywhere. For some strange reason, he likes working for you,” I add wryly.
Henry grins, the first real amusement I’ve seen on his face in days. “You sure you don’t want your job back?”
“I’m positive. The boss can be a real tyrant.”
“A tyrant.” He leans in closer to me, and drops his voice. “Tell me... what kinds of things did he make you do?”
This is so inappropriate, but I’m guessing Henry needs this bit of reprieve. I bite my bottom lip in thought. “Well, there was this one time he tied my hands up and....” I sense a figure hovering, waiting for us to break our conversation. My mouth clamps shut and my cheeks burn, embarrassed at the prospect of being overheard, especially given our surroundings.
It’s the woman I met at the service area earlier.
Henry leans into my ear and whispers playfully, “I remember that day. We’ll have to reenact it later.” But when he turns to greet his latest visitor, his entire body stiffens.
“Hello, Henry,” the woman croons in that same soft voice. She’s an inch or so shorter than I am, and is forced to tilt her head to peer up at him.
He doesn’t answer for a few beats. When he finally does, his voice is curt. “Thank you for coming.”
I feel Scott’s beady eyes on us, but I’m unable to peel my attention away from this uneasy exchange.
She offers a wide smile, as if nothing is wrong. “How have you been?”
“Fantastic.”
“Good. Well, I was hoping you’d be here.”
“Of course I’m here. It’s my father’s visitation.”
“Yes, I realize that. But I was hoping we could talk.”
“So talk.” Nothing about Henry’s tone invites conversation.
After a moment of awkwardness, she turns to me and holds a hand out. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name earlier.”
“Um....” I glance at Henry’s stony face. “It’s Abbi Mitchell.”
“Hi Abbi. I’m Crystal McGuire.” She meets Henry’s gaze. “I’m Henry’s mother.”
Chapter Two
“Why are you here?” Henry has shed all politeness. His voice is ice.
“I saw the news.” Her pretty blue eyes—Henry’s eyes, I now realize; at least the same shape as his—shift to gaze over to her late husband’s body. “And I wanted to pay my respects.”
“Go ahead then. He’s right there.” Henry’s arm curls tightly around my waist. He starts walking away and I have no choice but to follow, struggling to keep up with his pace.
“Slow down!” I mutter, my ankle shifting in these heels. Henry keeps me from falling and adjusts his stride once we’re out of the hall. But he doesn’t stop, leading me toward the front doors. “Shouldn’t we stay?” The crowds have dwindled, but there is still a good number of people standing idly in circles, chatting.
“Scott can handle things.”
The limo is already waiting for us outside. Henry doesn’t wait for the driver, opening the door and ushering me in.
I settle into the seat and kick off my shoes, moaning with relief as I stretch my toes.
“Home to drop Abbi off and then to work,” he directs the driver, sliding in to sit across from me. He shrugs off his suit jacket and tosses it to the seat beside him. Then, unfastening his cuffs and loosening his tie, he pours himself a drink from the minibar at the side.
Tension radiates off him.
“Do you want to talk about—”
“No!” he barks, and I instinctively shrink into my seat.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “What did she mean when she said she didn’t catch your name earlier?”
I tell him about our exchange in the service station. “It was literally a minute, tops. I had no idea who she was.” Now, playing back the short conversation, I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out. “I guess I didn’t expect her to be there today.”
Henry sinks into his seat and leans his head back to rest against the glass partition that separates us from the driver. “Why the hell did she come?”
“Maybe it’s like she said, to pay her respects?”
His answering laugh is full of scorn. “Bullshit. What respect? She had no respect for us when she abandoned us twenty years ago. Why the fuck would I want it now?”
His tone is sharp, but I know him well enough to know that it’s not directed at me. He’s angry and hurting. And my chest aches for him. As domineering and narrow-minded—and hateful, sometimes—as my mother can be, and as difficult as she’s made my life of late, there has never been any doubt that she loves me fiercely. That she would rather die than pack up her things and walk out of my life.
Henry’s mother leaving him—abandoning him—the way she did has left gruesome scars.
“Maybe at least talking to her would help you move on, and get some closure,” I say as gently as I can. “Help you open up.”
“I’m fucking open!”
This is not the time to tackle this conversation. I climb over to Henry’s side to curl up next to him, resting my head on his shoulder while our car navigates Manhattan’s gridlock and he broods silently.
“Why don’t you just come home with me now,” I finally suggest, smoothing my hand over his hard chest affectionately. “We can sit outside and stare at the sky.”
“It’s going to storm tonight.”
“Fine. Sit inside and watch the storm. I’ll make dinner.” I’m far from the best cook, but I do know how to make a few dishes and well. But Henry wouldn’t know that because I’ve never actually cooked for him. We always have our meals delivered from the hotel’s kitchen, or we go out.
“I have too much work to do, Abbi.”
Working day and night. That’s what Crystal—Henry’s mother—said when she asked how he was doing. She said it was just a hunch, but now I know that’s not true. She knew because Henry is like his father, and obviously she thought William Wolf was a workaholic.
“You can’t take a break, for just a few hours? Just one night?” My palm slides over his abdomen, a washboard of muscles, and further down, past his belt, to begin rubbing him.
His hand presses down on mine, stalling the movements. “It’s not a good time for this.”
“I’m sorry. I just—” I hesitate, letting my nose skim over his neck, inhaling the delicious smell of his musky cologne and soap. “I miss feeling you inside m
e.” We’ve shared a bed for days and yet I feel like he’s worlds away. Understandably so, but still.
Despite his words, there’s movement against my hand. He’s growing, hardening.
I manage to free my fingers from his grasp enough to curl around his impressive length.
“Is that what you want?”
I press my body into him in answer, sliding my thigh up and over his lap. I skate my lips against his neck. “Only if you want it.” I know I’m being selfish for asking, given where we just left, but if there’s one thing that puts Henry in a better mood, it’s sex.
Henry reaches up to press the intercom button. “How much longer?”
“Three or four minutes,” comes the response over the speaker.
“Thank you,” Henry says curtly.
“We can go upstairs and....” My words drift as Henry flicks the lock to the divider window and adjusts the volume of the music up with ease. He slides my leg off his lap and then, unfastening his belt and dress pants, he unceremoniously pushes them along with his boxer briefs down to his knees, leaving him sitting in the limo with his dick standing erect.
And even though this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, heat begins to pool between my thighs at the sight, all the same.
“Take your dress off,” he demands, lazily stroking himself.
It takes me a moment to slide my dress over my head and shimmy out of my panties.
“That too.” He nods toward my bra.
Unclasping the back, I toss it to the opposite bench. And now I’m completely naked in the back of this limo and we’re driving down a busy street with cars edging past us on either side. I glance at the windows warily, though I know they can’t see us through the tinted glass.
“You heard him. Three or four minutes.”
While this colder side of Henry isn’t completely foreign to me, it’s been a while since I’ve seen it. I gingerly climb onto his lap, fully aware that there’s a man sitting just on the other side of that glass.
Normally, Henry would touch me first. He’d check to make sure that I’m wet enough. Now though, he simply lines up the end of his swollen cock, seizes my hips, and pulls me down.
