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 a 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.
