Текст книги "Wolf Bait"
Автор книги: Nina West
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
“So, what’ll it be today, Mr. Wolf?”
“Full body, please.”
I swallow and keep my eyes on my iPad screen as, from the corner of my eye, Henry removes the towel and tosses it to land on the wing chair opposite me. I could steal a quick, unobstructed view if I adjust my eyes by an inch. Maybe he’s still testing me, wondering if I’ll take the chance.
I keep my eyes down.
I’ve seen my boss’s cock plenty already.
Henry climbs onto the table, stomach down, and Michael pulls the covers over his lower half. His hands begin their assessment of the expansive slab of muscle and flesh beneath him. “Man, you’re tight today. Stressed at all?”
Henry answers him with a low chuckle.
“Abbi.”
I swallow against the blip of excitement that stirs with Henry calling my name. “Yes?”
Long seconds of silence force me to glance up, to find him staring at me, the look on his face almost regretful. It appears that both his anger and whatever game he was playing earlier are out of his system. “Yes, Mr. Wolf?” I repeat, as pleasantly as I can.
Another few long moments hang before he quietly asks, “Brief me on the media attending. Please.”
“Okay.” I exhale shakily, preparing to read from the screen. “Well, first we have Roshana Mafi from Luxury Travel Magazine.”
“What does she look like?” he asks, without missing a beat.
I scan the picture in the electronic dossier. “Middle Eastern, long black hair. Beautiful,” I admit with more than a hint of jealousy. “Exotic-looking. It says she’s thirty-two and lives in New York City.”
“Single?”
“Yes.” Why Belinda felt the need to include that, I can’t say.
“Make sure there are flowers in her room for her arrival. I’ll write the card myself.”
Almost Henry’s age, lives in his city, stunning. Single. I feel like I’m setting the two of them up. That idea makes my stomach clench.
But I scribble down the note on my pad of paper because that’s my job.
“Next?”
“Gerard Starsky from Glamour Hotel. Short, salt-and-pepper hair. Forty-five years old. Lives in San Francisco. Married to Rena. One daughter named Bella, aged seven.” It’s almost disturbing how much personal information is on here. “It says he interviewed you two years ago at the opening in Istanbul.” Mention of Istanbul reminds me of Henry sleeping with Belinda. I wonder who initiated that. I’ll bet he takes on his sexual conquests as aggressively as he does his business ones.
Anger creeps into my otherwise rattled psyche at the thought of him tormenting me like he did in the bedroom moments ago, seemingly for his own personal entertainment.
“I remember him. Write a note to him that says ‘Good to see you again. I hope you enjoy Wolf Cove even more than you did Istanbul’. Try not to make the writing too girly.”
So Henry writes personal notes to single women but has me write the rest. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he’s playing up his physical gifts. “And do you want me to send him flowers, too?” I ask as innocently as possible. I can’t resist glancing over.
Henry’s sharp gaze is on me as Michael works over the deep curves of the middle of his back, the sheet draped dangerously low on his hips. I feel the urge to stick my tongue out at him, but I bite my lip instead. His eyes drop to my mouth and he blinks once... twice... Otherwise, he reveals nothing. “Next.”
And so we go through the list, me giving Henry a rundown of every member of the media who will be arriving here to provide either accolades or criticism of a location that Henry himself holds dear, and him instructing me on what to include in the welcome notes to the males. Not the females though. He’ll write all of those himself, to include with the flowers I send them in his name. I don’t have to ask why.
A personal note from the busy Henry Wolf, himself? Few women would be unaffected by that. Look how I reacted to the one he included with my replacement vest. I internally gushed over it.
What a manipulative ass.
I cover up a yawn as we wrap up the review forty minutes later. Henry looks sleepy too, his eyelids drooping. Michael has moved to Henry’s quad muscles, the sheet lifted to uncover his leg. “You can go now. Come back at seven tomorrow.” He pauses. “Actually, make it six.”
6:00 a.m. I stifle my groan. “Don’t forget your dinner tonight.”
“Fuck,” he moans. “Right.”
Michael throws me a wink on my way past. “I’ll be at the staff lodge tonight, if you want to meet up.”
I glance toward Henry’s resting head, replaying his words, his request that I stay away from Michael. That Michael wants my “virgin pussy.”
Do I dare fantasize that perhaps Henry wants it for himself?
Because I’d save it for him, if that were the case. “Maybe another night.” I collect my things and head for the door.
What a weird day.
Chapter Sixteen
The entrance to Henry’s suite from the servants’ quarters is open a crack for me again. I slip into the room noiselessly.
“This is exactly the kind of bullshit that the future leader can’t get caught up in. Your grandfather and I have built this company with the strength of our family values.” The gruff man’s voice carries through the cabin.
Henry sits at the desk, twirling a pen between his fingers, his jaw taut. I’m guessing that it’s his father on the other end of the phone.
“What has legal said?”
“They’re still waiting on her to accept the severance package but it’s a no-brainer. She’s going to sign.” Henry sounds drained.
“Good,” the man mutters gruffly. “I don’t know, Henry. Between this and the Alaska gamble, I’m beginning to wonder about your ability to make sound decisions. Maybe your brother is more suitable.”
Henry slams the pen against the desk. “If you want this company driven into the ground within five years, sure, hand over Wolf Hotels to Scott. He doesn’t have an entrepreneurial bone in his body and forget any strategic marketing skills. The fucking idiot didn’t even finish his undergrad. I, on the other hand, have a goddamn MBA from Harvard.”
“Well, he seems to be doing well with the mines.”
“Because they’re mines. He digs for gold, throws it on a scale, and sells it for market price. A monkey could run that business!” He pauses to temper his tone. “Look, it was an unfortunate situation but it is handled, and it’s never going to happen again.”
What unfortunate situation are they talking about? I know I shouldn’t be listening, so I quietly sweep through and collect dirty dishes, keeping my head down while I learn about Henry. He has an MBA from Harvard—impressive. He has a brother named Scott, whom he clearly doesn’t think too highly of.
“You better see to it that it doesn’t, because one more fuckup like that and you’ll be the monkey peddling gold, if that. You’re already on thin ice with this Wolf Cove project. You’re about to embarrass our family with that catastrophic failure. A goddamn seasonal Wolf. I can’t believe you talked me into this.”
I feel Henry’s eyes on me and I can’t help but glance over and offer him a polite smile, all the while feeling bad for him for his father’s harsh words. I don’t see why he wouldn’t be proud of his son’s accomplishments here, but I’m not a business tycoon. I’m sure it’s more complicated than hanging pretty chandeliers and gazing out at snow-covered mountaintops.
“When do you arrive?” Henry pushes out through gritted teeth.
“I don’t know. Ask my secretary.” The phone line goes dead.
And Henry heaves a sigh, resting his forehead in his palms for a long moment.
“He seems a bit abrupt.” I quietly edge in next to him, to where my laptop sits, inhaling the scent of clean soap. He’s dressed in cargo pants and a simple black long-sleeved shirt for another bear sightseeing trip with another group of important guests. I wonder if he ever gets bored of it.
“I’ve been planning this since I was a teenager—long before my father ever handed over the reins to Wolf Hotels. This summer, I will prove to him and every other asshole out there that the Alaska location is a fucking brilliant move.” His words are confident—even arrogant—but I sense a hint of fear and unease behind them, too.
“For what it’s worth, you’ve already proven it to me. I’d stay here if I could afford it. I mean, I know my opinion doesn’t matter much, but I’d stay.”
“You shouldn’t do that.”
“Do what?” I’m instantly replaying my movements, wondering what I did wrong.
“Discredit yourself like that. Especially if you want your business to succeed one day.”
My business? Does he mean my soap business? I frown for a moment, searching through my memory. I never told him about that, did I?
The video. I mentioned it in there. And I guess he remembers.
Reaching for the extra mug I requested with room service—for me—Henry pours coffee into it, then cream and a spoonful of sugar, and slides it over to me wordlessly.
“Thank you.” I smile sheepishly. Oh, to have Henry making my coffee for me every morning. “So, you have a brother?” I ask cautiously, taking a sip.
“Yeah. An older one.”
“I always wished I had a sibling.” Mama had to have an emergency hysterectomy after I was born, due to complications. She blames that for her excessive weight gain.
“You can have mine. He’s a cocksucker. He wants to run Wolf Hotels. Thinks he can do a better job.” Henry sighs as he stands, reaching for his red-and-black lumberjack coat.
“Must be a real problem, when you have to fight over an international hotel chain and a gold mine.” I let some of my sarcasm slip out, even though I’ve been taught with years of scolding to keep it in. Sarcasm is “rude.”
“You have a bad habit of listening in on things you’re not supposed to,” Henry murmurs, only his eyes are twinkling with mischief as he peers down at me, his gaze raking over my chest. I’m getting the impression that he’s a breast man, for the amount of attention he gives to mine.
His soft reprimand reminds me of the conversation he had with Belinda. It must remind him, too, because the mischief falls off. “There are people, including my own family, who want this hotel to fail. They want me to fail.”
He pulls on his jacket, hiding that intoxicating upper body from my view. “The plane needs to leave in ten. I’m heading out.”
“Not yet.” I rush to his bedroom, eying the rumpled sheets—my daily mental dose of Henry’s naked body tangled in them hitting me, making me flush. But I push past that and dig through his dresser drawer. He’s waiting for me, mild curiosity making his face softer.
I hold out the pair of black socks, to replace the mismatched blue and brown ones he pulled onto his feet. “I’m sure the bears don’t care about your fashion statement, but I figured you might.”
He treats me to a sheepish grin—such a rare sight on his beautiful face—before swapping out his socks and lacing up his hiking boots. There’s something decidedly heartwarming about being able to do little personal things like this for him. Things that a girlfriend or wife might do.
“I’ll see you later, Abbi.” He winks. “Stay out of trouble.”
“So no more massages?” It slips out before I can help myself, and I bite my lip nervously, hoping I haven’t angered him with the reminder.
“Only from Lorraine,” he throws over his shoulder on his way out.
“You know my roommate?”
“Nope.” He’s gone, out the door, leaving me baffled.
~.~.~.~
Date: May 9th
Abigail,
How are you? Your mom told me that you were in Alaska? That must be something. I never thought you’d be so adventurous! Same ol’, same ol’ around here. Well, except for the whole Jed thing, of course. The whole town’s still reeling over that. I can’t believe he had the nerve to bring Cammie to Greenbank. Your mom said that you’re devastated but staying strong. We’re all glad to hear that. Drop me a line when you get a chance.
Lucy
I stare at the e-mail as I sip on my coffee, stewing in anger over Mama telling people that I’m devastated. Whether it’s the truth or not is beside the point. Now Jed and Cammie and everyone will think I’m sitting in a corner up here, crying my eyes out. Back when it happened, I didn’t care. I wanted people to think that, to feel sorry for me. But now it makes me sound weak and pathetic.
I take in the sunny morning as I consider how I should respond. I haven’t talked to Lucy in months. She’s a friend of ours from school growing up. She works at the feed store in town, having never left the town borders after high school graduation. Truth be told, she never did well enough in school to even consider applying to college. Punching buttons into a cash register and hoisting grain bags is more her speed.
She’s nice enough, but she’s a gossip, and I know that whatever I tell her now will spread through town like wildfire.
I smile. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.
Hey Lucy,
Great to hear from you! I’m having an amazing time in Alaska. It’s beautiful and peaceful. I could live up here forever. The hotel is pure luxury, and I’ve made some great friends. I’m actually working as the personal assistant to Mr. Wolf, himself. I’m pretty sure he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on.☺ Have you ever heard of him?
I do a quick Google search to find a link with an especially flattering media picture of Henry—his designer suit well cut over his powerful upper body, his smile charming—and include it in the body of the email, followed by an airy “talk to you later,” sign-off.
I grin. There. Now it’s time to work.
Chapter Seventeen
Come to Lux right now.
I stare at the text for five long seconds, trying to decipher the tone, before tapping out:
On my way.
I read his text for the umpteenth time as I speed walk through the main lodge, trying not to bump or knock anyone over in my rush. Is he angry with me? Is there something wrong? Did I screw up with the reservation?
With a last glance into a mirror outside the hotel’s best restaurant, smoothing my uniform and checking my braid, I step inside.
The tall, handsome man in an all-black suit behind the reservations desk flashes me a polite smile. “Yes?” His voice is as melodic as it was on the phone and I immediately sigh, because I know he’s an ally.
“Rich! It’s me, Abbi. Mr. Wolf’s assistant. He asked that I meet him here.”
“Oh, right,” he murmurs absently, doing a full once-over of me. “I didn’t expect you to be so...”
I wait for it. So plain? So average? So country?
Rich meets my glare and finishes with, “Wide-eyed innocent. Mr. Wolf is at table twenty-two. Allow Mary to lead you there.” He gestures to the petite brunette to his right, who’s waiting patiently for me in her matching all-black uniform, only she wears a skirt much like mine.
“Thanks, Rich. I’ll talk to you later.”
He smirks, dropping his voice to add, “Oh, I’m sure you will. I’ll be kissing lots of ass for you and the boss this summer.”
It takes me a minute to figure out what he means and by that point, I’m halfway through the packed—though oddly calm—dining room, trailing my guide and her perfect round butt, highlighted by the skirt. I wonder what my butt looks like in this thing.
I haven’t spent much time investigating all that the hotel has to offer, my time divided mainly between the staff village, Henry’s place, and the hotel rooms I prepared before I was moved. But thanks to all the reading I did on the eve of becoming Henry’s assistant, I learned that there are three dining areas—Haven, a cozy breakfast café on the first floor that serves gourmet omelets and French-style pastries; Rawley’s, a more relaxed though still upscale pub, where you can enjoy microbrewery pints from all over the world as well as hundred-year-old malt scotches while sitting in leather wing chairs and gazing over the mounted works of a taxidermy; and this place. Lux, fine dining at its best, with highly skilled servers and sleek, sophisticated décor. I can hardly focus on the rich silk table linens and million-dollar view, though, as I make my way over toward the table in the far corner. Henry’s steely blue gaze is already locked on me, robbing me of my breath.
Lord, that man’s gaze... Does he practice that in the mirror?
“He’s right over there.” Mary waves a graceful hand.
“Right. Thanks,” I mumble, leaving her to weave around other dining guests. His attention has shifted back to his investors, his posture casual, his expression calm. He’s made no gesture toward me, no indication that I should interrupt him. I don’t know what to do, but I can’t just stand here, staring at him.
I close the distance to the table, edging up quietly so as not to interrupt the ongoing conversation. The other men—all in their fifties by my guess and dressed in camo, which is so inappropriate for this high-end restaurant, but they’re sitting with the owner so I guess it’s okay—are talking over each other, their voices loud and boisterous.
“Did you see that one by the river?” A man with a thick Midwest accent asks, spreading his meaty hands wide over a plate of pasta. “One swipe of his paw and your face would be gone! He had to be sixteen hundred pounds easily.”
“It’s very possible,” Henry says, casually validating the man’s story while pulling out the spare chair next to him. Finally, he calls me over with a “come here” wave of two fingers. He likes that move. Normally, I would hate it but there’s something so commanding and sexy about the way he does it.
I slide in quietly, feeling my cheeks flush under the sudden attention of the other occupants.
“Everyone, my assistant, Abbi. I’ve asked her here to take some follow-up notes before you all fuck off to the saunas and the bar and forget why you’re here: to give me your money.”
The table erupts in a loud chorus of laughter, while Henry offers nothing more than a small, satisfied smirk.
And I release a sigh of relief because, again, I’ve let my anxiety and my imagination get the better of me. I didn’t screw up.
The man directly next to me, a heavyset, graying man with a coarse beard, leans in toward me. “And here we thought he liked us for our personalities,” he jokes.
I smile politely as I open my iPad and shift my eyes to the screen.
“I need meetings booked with each of these guys for next week. Contact their assistants,” Henry begins. He lists his demands in a cool, even tone, while the others finish their meals, pausing occasionally to interject an important name or date. These men are all CEOs and VPs of big companies that reward their top sales teams with exotic, lavish trips, and Henry wants Wolf Cove to be their destination.
That’s the first leg of the notes. The second part is notes on the hotel itself—suggestions on improvements to the rooms and amenities, entertainment packages, and that sort of thing. Things that are ridiculous (a cigar room?) but I say nothing, judiciously tapping away at my screen.
“I think that’s it?”
The others all nod their heads in agreement as the server comes around to clear plates.
“Don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m ready for a real drink after this morning!” The Midwesterner slaps the table, rattling the centerpiece. The others chirp their agreement.
“Abbi, give us a minute.” Henry barely casts a glance my way.
I quietly duck out, smiling at each man before stepping away. But where do I go? Should I stay within easy reach? I settle on the bench by the unoccupied grand piano, set on a stage in the corner.
I’m far enough away that I shouldn’t be able to hear their conversation. If I didn’t have exceptional hearing, anyway.
I watch Henry, leaning back in his chair talking business with these men, his thumb casually rubbing back and forth across the handle of his fork. Yet another sexy, appealing side of him. He’s decades younger than them and yet they all obviously respect him.
“How’s it going?” Rachel’s sudden voice in my ear makes me jump. “I hear you’re working for the big boss, now.”
I look first at her tray full of drinks, then at her clothes, a version of the black servers’ outfit, with a few top buttons missing and a shorter skirt. With her white-blond hair pulled back in a big fluffy bun, her eyes dark and smoky, and her full lips painted red, she looks downright sexy. Too sexy for noon.
I haven’t seen her in days, which is crazy seeing as we live together, but that’s how these places work, apparently. “Hey! Yeah. Just here to take notes and then I’m guessing I’ll be back to the computer.”
“You’re the talk of the hotel, that’s for sure. Everyone’s wondering how the virgin landed a job like that.”
My mouth drops open. “How does everyone know about that?”
She frowns at me, then recognition fills her face and she laughs. “I was talking about a hotel virgin. But, seriously?”
Henry glances over our way and she whispers, “Better go and deliver these. Don’t want to make the wolf angry.” She stalks over to the table in her black heels, her calf muscles straining beautifully. By her flirtatious giggles and the men’s obvious ogling as Rachel sets their drinks down in front of them, I’d say my roommate is a big hit with the executives.
Even Henry’s heated eyes linger over her face, along her neckline, down to the swell of her breasts peeking out, only to hold her gaze when she leans over to set his drink in front of him, a seductive smirk curling his lips.
He wants her; it’s obvious to anyone watching.
A sharp pang of jealousy throbs within me. He’s never looked at me like that. I practically threw myself at him when I was drunk, we had that “moment” in the truck... then there was yesterday, in his room. But he has never looked at me like that.
He’s not attracted to me.
I don’t know exactly how obvious my envy is on my face, but when Henry glances over to catch my eye, a frown flits across his expression. It’s followed by a hard look that I can’t decipher but makes me nervous. I duck my head and try to refocus my attention on my notes.
Failing. I can’t keep my eyes off him.
Rachel leaves, her hips swaying a little too suggestively, attracting all their gazes. Except Henry, who now stares daggers at his glass.
“With that kind of service, who can say no to this place,” one of the other guys mumbles, and they all chuckle.
“Surprised you didn’t bring your other assistant here,” another one says. “Having an assistant like that at your beck and call...” His words drift off and his eyebrows waggle suggestively.
“Oh, hell. That leggy brunette. Kiera. Yeah.” The burly Carolina man puffs his cheeks out with an exhale. “Don’t know how you got any work done with that one around.”
“I had to let her go,” Henry says simply. “It wasn’t working out.”
Kiera. That’s the name Belinda mentioned the other day. She must be the assistant Tillie was talking about. The one that Henry fired for hitting on him.
While I should be more focused on the bruise to my ego—in the ten minutes I sat and quietly took notes, they decided they’d rather have the “leggy brunette” Kiera here—my curiosity is getting the better of me. What happened between them, exactly? What did it take to get her fired? Because after some of the stuff I’ve done, I’m almost positive I’ll be next.
And, arguably, Henry hasn’t exactly been a saint, either. Did he strip down in front of her, too? Did that send her mixed messages, like perhaps the ones I’m desperate to read?
I pretend not to eavesdrop as they finish up their lunch meeting and unease settles onto my shoulders. With a round of handshakes and “see you for dinner” commitments, the bigwig executives stroll away, their phones in their hands.
“Abbi. Come,” Henry commands, with as much warmth as you’d expect from a billionaire calling on his lowly assistant. He turns and strolls toward the exit. I jump up, smoothing my skirt and shirt as I rush to follow him out past guests and the hostess desk.
“See you later, sir,” Rich offers. Henry barely acknowledges him, throwing a wave in the air without even a glance. I mouth “bye” toward Rich. He responds with a sarcastic “have fun” look and a salute before pulling the phone receiver to his ear.
“Do you have any questions about your follow-ups to that meeting?” Henry asks coolly, his eyes skating over the lingering guests, some in hiking gear, others on their way to the spa, and yet others simply lingering in the lobby, their hands holding drinks and their speech slurred. It’s only two in the afternoon, but I guess when you’re on vacation, anything goes, even in Alaska.
“No. I don’t think so.” I’ll have to hunt through Henry’s e-mails and calendar to find out who was with him today and their respective assistants, but I can figure that out.
“What was that look back there?”
“Uh...I...what?” I stammer, caught off guard. He likes doing that. “What look?”
“Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.”
I bite my bottom lip, unsure what to say but feeling summarily chastised and two feet tall.
I say nothing, which seems to frustrate Henry because he stops, turning to glare at me with his arms folded over his chest. He drops his voice. “When your roommate came to deliver drinks. You were upset.”
“No, I wasn’t,” I’m quick to say, averting my gaze.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
Swallowing my nerves, I lift my face to meet his gaze again. Cold amusement dances in them as he dissects me, cutting past my poorly veiled attempt to hide my attraction like a well-honed blade against flesh. “You were upset because it seemed that I might want more than just my drink from her.”
I shake my head in denial, and that beautiful, hard jaw of his grows taut. He’s too perceptive.
“This will all go more smoothly for you if you tell me the truth.”
“And what? Get fired?” I whisper.
His brow arches in surprise. “If I were going to fire you, I would have already done that. Don’t you agree?”
Why are we having this conversation now, here, in the middle of the lodge, where I can feel curious eyes on me like bugs crawling over my skin?
“Remember what I told you? Out here, I am Mr. Wolf at all times. You can’t be looking at me like some poor, wounded animal. Like I’ve broken your heart. Do you understand? My staff is always watching, waiting for the next juicy detail to gossip about. I can’t have them making up stories. It reflects badly on me, and on my company.”
“Of course.” I hug the iPad to my chest, wishing I were anywhere but here right now. At least my face isn’t burning bright. I’m pretty sure all the blood has left my head.
He heaves a sigh. “Please don’t allow your crush to get in the way of your job. If you can’t control it, then we can’t continue our arrangement.”
Which arrangement is that, exactly? The one where he strips down to nothing while I stand there and watch?
I nod, not trusting my voice, fighting off the tears that burn behind my eyes as I trail him to the Summit room for our daily meeting.
Feeling all the more like a stupid bright-eyed doe being led by a cunning wolf.
