by HELEN HARDT
Recluse
Wolfes of Manhattan Two
Helen Hardt
Contents
Recluse
Dedication
Untitled
Praise For Helen Hardt
Prologue
1. Charlie
2. Roy
3. Charlie
4. Roy
5. Charlie
6. Roy
7. Charlie
8. Roy
9. Charlie
10. Roy
11. Charlie
12. Roy
13. Charlie
14. Roy
15. Charlie
16. Roy
17. Charlie
18. Roy
19. Charlie
20. Roy
21. Charlie
22. Roy
23. Charlie
24. Roy
25. Charlie
26. Roy
27. Charlie
28. Roy
29. Charlie
30. Roy
31. Charlie
32. Roy
33. Charlie
34. Roy
35. Charlie
36. Roy
37. Charlie
38. Roy
39. Charlie
40. Roy
41. Charlie
42. Roy
43. Charlie
44. Roy
45. Charlie
46. Roy
47. Charlie
48. Roy
49. Charlie
50. Roy
51. Charlie
52. Roy
53. Charlie
Epilogue
A Note From Helen
Acknowledgments
Also By Helen Hardt
About the Author
Recluse
Wolfes of Manhattan Two
by
Helen Hardt
This book is an original publication of Helen Hardt
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.
Copyright © 2020 Helen Hardt, LLC dba Hardt & Sons
Cover Design: Marci Clark, Nerdy Kat Designs
Editor: Celina Summers
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic format without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-952841-00-2
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
Created with Vellum
For my readers
A secret lies trapped in the deepest recesses of Roy Wolfe’s mind.
And it’s slowly drowning him.
When Charlene Waters’s boss married the new CEO of Wolfe Enterprises after a whirlwind romance, she brought her assistant along for the ride. Charlie now has a cushy new job at the billion dollar company, and she’s excited to begin her new venture.
Roy Wolfe is a recluse. He’s never taken an active role in his family’s business, and he has no desire to now. He’s only in the office to deal with the fallout from his father’s murder. He, along with the rest of his siblings, have all been implicated. Meeting Charlie Waters with the gorgeous silver eyes complicates things. Their chemistry is immediate and passionate, but he can’t be what she deserves.
Roy knows his father was hiding something even more sinister than his brothers and sister can imagine—something he witnessed years ago that he can’t bring to his conscious mind.
But he must—for Charlie, and for his family. Or they may all pay the ultimate price.
Praise For Helen Hardt
STEEL BROTHERS SAGA
“Craving is the jaw-dropping book you need to read!”
~ Lisa Renee Jones, New York Times bestselling author
"Completely raw and addictive."
~ Meredith Wild, #1 New York Times bestselling author
“Talon has hit my top five list…up there next to Jamie Fraser and Gideon Cross.”
~ Angel Payne, USA Today bestselling author
“Talon is a sexy, intriguing leading man and Jade, our lady left at the altar is a sweet and relatable girl you just want to hug. Together they build a steaming hot relationship you really root for from the first chapter!”
-CD Reiss, New York Times bestselling author
“Talon and Jade’s instant chemistry heats up the pages...”
~ RT Book Reviews
“Sorry Christian and Gideon, there’s a new heartthrob for you to contend with. Meet Talon. Talon Steel.”
~ Booktopia
“Such a beautiful torment—the waiting, the anticipation, the relief that only comes briefly before more questions arise, and the wait begins again… Check. Mate. Ms. Hardt…”
~ Bare Naked Words
“Made my heart stop in my chest. Helen has given us such a heartbreakingly beautiful series.”
~Tina, Bookalicious Babes
BLOOD BOND SAGA
“An enthralling and rousing vampire tale that will leave readers waiting for the sequel.”
~ Kirkus Reviews
“Helen gives us the dark, tormented vampire hero we all love in a sensual paranormal romance with all the feels. Be warned… The twists and turns will keep you up all night reading. I was hooked from the first sentence until the very end.”
~ J.S. Scott, New York Times bestselling author
“A dark, intoxicating tale.”
~ Library Journal
“Helen dives into the paranormal world of vampires and makes it her own.”
~ Tina, Bookalicious Babes
“Throw out everything you know about vampires—except for that blood thirst we all love and lust after in these stunning heroes—and expect to be swept up in a sensual story that twists and turns in so many wonderfully jaw-dropping ways.”
~ Angel Payne, USA Today bestselling author
WOLFES OF MANHATTAN
“It's hot, it's intense, and the plot starts off thick and had me completely spellbound from page one.”
~ The Sassy Nerd Blog
Helen Hardt…is a master at her craft.
~K. Ogburn, Amazon
Move over Steel brothers… Rock is everything!
~Barbara Conklin-Jaros, Amazon
Helen has done it again. She winds you up and weaves a web of intrigue.
~Vicki Smith, Amazon
Prologue
Roy
The secret had lodged in my gut, always present, sometimes churning, and occasionally clawing its way up my throat as acidic bile, eating through my flesh.
For most of my life I’d ignored it. Not like I hadn’t had years to tamp it down, pretend it didn’t exist. Days had begun to pass where I didn’t think about it. Days turned into weeks, into months, eventually into years.
But always it was there, like a black cancer haunting me from the inside out.
Who to trust?
I was a recluse, never close to anyone, really—certainly not anyone in my family.
Flying to Montana to talk to Rock had been a mistake. I couldn’t expose my secret with his girlfriend there—his girlfriend who was a lawyer, for God’s sake.
Now I existed in a perpetual cold sweat, trapped in the ultimate mindfuck.
Help me. Please. Help me.
1
Charlie
My new employer was Wolfe Ent
erprises.
Seriously.
A new position, a new title, a posh new office, and a hefty raise in pay.
Life was good.
Moving over to the Wolfe Plaza Tower was easier than I’d ever imagined. Everything stayed. I gathered only my few personal items to take with me to my new office. Yes, I’d have my own office!
I’d been the assistant to Lacey Ward since she became an associate at the law firm. She hired me herself. I was fresh out of paralegal school and green as they come. That was six years ago. Lacey was the youngest attorney ever to make partner at our prestigious Manhattan firm…and now she was leaving.
For good reason.
Rock Wolfe was the CEO of Wolfe Enterprises. He was also Lacey’s new husband. They’d met, fallen in love, and gotten married in a span of a couple weeks. Why the rush? I didn’t know and I hadn’t asked. Lacey was my boss, not my friend. Not to say we weren’t friendly. I called her by her first name and we sometimes shared a drink after work, but we’d never be besties. We were just too different.
She was all business.
Which didn’t explain her behavior the last few weeks. A quickie wedding to Rock Wolfe was so not Lacey Ward. Er…Lacey Wolfe.
Definitely not. Neither was leaving the firm where she’d gotten her start to take a position with her new husband’s company. Her position? Special counsel to the CEO. My position? Executive assistant to special counsel to the CEO.
I loved working with Lacey, and truthfully, I would have followed her just about anywhere.
My generous six-figure salary? Icing on the cake.
Getting away from Blaine Foster? Sugary sprinkles on the icing.
Blaine, a senior partner at the firm, and I had dated a few times. He was old enough to be my father, for sure, but still a sexy silver-haired fox. Problem was, he’d gotten a little too serious with me a little too fast. I wasn’t in the market for a permanent relationship, especially not one with a man twice my age who already had grown children. I wanted children of my own…just not quite yet.
I swallowed as I entered the Wolfe Plaza Tower.
Oh. My. God.
If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought I was walking into a luxury hotel. Marble tile on the floors, walnut fixtures, and lush paintings on the wall. I’d always been interested in art, in fact had dabbled on my own. I’d considered studying art but had needed to get a marketable skill quickly to pay my bills. My mother couldn’t afford college, and my father was busy with second wife and new kids. I couldn’t afford a student loan payment and a career as a starving artist. Six months of paralegal school at a community college, and my fast and accurate fingers had earned me a job as Lacey’s assistant.
I strolled through the lobby of the building, eyeing the artwork. One painting in particular drew me in. It was oil on canvas, an abstract, but the darkness of the work immediately made my heart sad.
I wasn’t sure why. I couldn’t discern any actual images, but the dark reds and blues were twisted together in a corkscrew pattern that almost seemed like a crash into some secret madness.
“Wow,” I said out loud.
“What do you think?”
I jerked slightly at the low voice behind me. I turned and held back a gasp. The most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on stood a foot away from me, his dark eyes meeting my gaze. He was tall, almost a foot taller than I was. Thank goodness for stilettos. His nearly black hair was long and pulled back into a low ponytail. He wore a crisp designer suit but no tie, the top two buttons of his white cotton shirt undone. Dark stubble graced his jawline.
“Wow,” I said again.
“Thank you,” he said.
Warmth crept up to my cheeks. He’d asked what I thought of the painting, but I wasn’t responding to his query. The “wow” was all him.
“For…what?” I asked.
“For the compliment.”
“Oh. You mean…? I didn’t mean…”
He chuckled softly. “It’s mine.”
“What?” My thoughts were a jumble.
“The painting. It’s my work.”
I lifted my brow. This perfect human was an artist? I looked back at the painting for a signature. I didn’t see one, though there was a small symbol at the bottom, like a brand. “It’s fascinating.”
“It’s nice to find someone around here who appreciates art,” he said.
“Oh, I definitely do. I paint myself now and then, though I’ve never created anything so moving.”
“Where did you study?” he asked.
Warmth to the cheeks again. “I…didn’t. I mean, I didn’t go to college.”
He let out a soft sound that sounded almost like a scoff. “Most college art programs are overrated. The great ones aren’t teaching. They’re creating. You’re probably better off.”
“Hmm. I never looked at it that way.”
“What do you see?” he asked me.
“I’m hardly qualified to—”
“You’re looking at it. It means something to you. That qualifies you.”
I stood silently for a few seconds. How could I discuss this magnificent work of art with the man who painted it?
“Go ahead,” he prodded. “I’d really like to know.”
“It’s…dark yet beautiful. The way the brushstrokes—”
“Forget about the brushstrokes. Forget about the technique. Tell me what you see.”
“I see…secrecy.”
“And what do you feel?”
“I feel”—I forced my mind to conjure a word that defined the empty feeling—“wistful, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“No. Wistful is a good word. Almost sad. And I don’t want to feel sad, but when I look at it, I can’t look away. I’m mesmerized. I keep looking for a key.”
“A key to what?”
“I don’t mean a literal key. But there’s secrecy here. Like something’s hiding, and it wants to get out, but…” I shook my head. “I’m probably making no sense at all.”
“You’re making perfect sense. Go on.”
Oh, God. Why had I started this? This man was brilliant, and I sounded like a high school art student trying to impress a teacher. “I can’t find any more words. I’m sorry.”
“No need to be sorry.”
“Did I come anywhere close to what you were going for?” I couldn’t help asking.
“It doesn’t matter what I was going for. What matters is that you like it, that it evoked an emotional response in you. That means I did my job, at least as far as you’re concerned.”
“As far as I’m concerned?”
“Art, as you know, is subjective. What one person loves another might hate.”
“No one could hate this,” I said.
He smiled. More perfection. I didn’t come to work the first day at a new job to have my body react to the first man I met.
But boy, was my body reacting.
“You’d be surprised,” he said. “Though I’d rather someone hate it than be indifferent. Hate is still a powerful emotional response.”
I stared at him, willing my mouth not to drop open. His words rang so true, yet I’d never considered hate in that way.
I glanced at my watch. Crap. I didn’t want to leave this man, but—
“Uh-oh. I’m going to be late. Nice meeting you.” I turned and walked—
“There is no key.”
His voice. It permeated me as though it had come from within myself.
I looked over my shoulder to catch one more glimpse of the gorgeous artist with more talent in one finger than I’d ever have.
He was already gone.
Lacey stuck her head into my office. “Settling in?”
“Yeah. I still can’t believe I’m working here.”
“Believe it.” She smiled. “We’re all going to be working our butts off until Derek Wolfe’s murder is solved.”
“It’s crazy that all of you are implicated.”
“I know. It’s ridic
ulous. I’m finally able to sleep at night, as long as Rock holds me. I know I’m innocent, but how can I prove it when the videotape from my apartment is missing?”
“And the others?”
“All their fingerprints are at the crime scene.”
“Why is that even an issue? Especially for Fonda. She was sleeping with Derek, for God’s sake. Of course her fingerprints are there.”
“They’re not leaving any stone unturned, so it’s up to us to figure this out.”
“Us?”
“Yeah, Charlie. The Wolfes have sources the police don’t, and they have a vested interest in proving their innocence. I wouldn’t have taken Rock’s offer to work here quite so quickly if this other stuff weren’t going on.”
