Chapter Three
My hand flies out to stop the door from shutting noisily, and then I tiptoe
closer to the staff entrance into the main cabin, my blood pounding in my
ears. As usual, the door is ajar to allow me easy, welcome access into
Henry’s space. Only now I suspect that if Henry knew I was here, he
wouldn’t be speaking so openly.
What sends a shiver down my spine though is the part about “doing
what needs to be done.” What exactly “needs to be done” to the woman
accusing him of rape and about to ruin his life?
Suddenly it doesn’t seem like such a smart move to be eavesdropping.
Yet I can’t help myself, wrapping my arms around my chest in a comforting
hug as I listen to the man I was head over heels for only twenty-four hours
ago rant and rave to someone over the phone.
This is a different side of Henry. Even when he’s pissed off, he has
always maintained an air of cool arrogance and calm. Of control. He’s no
longer controlled here. I think he’s scared, and for good reason.
“I don’t give a fuck! You’re my lawyer and I’m in Alaska, trying to
run a new hotel that has cost me millions of my own money. I have a media
event this weekend, I can’t deal with this right now! I’m not asking you to
do it. Hire your guy to do it.”
Oh my God. Do what? Hire his guy? I cover my mouth to keep from
gasping out loud.
“Of course my father’s telling you to settle. He doesn’t want this to go
to court. Can you imagine the news?” There’s a long pause as Henry listens
to someone on the phone, and then he erupts. “God dammit!” I jump at the
sound of a loud crash against the hardwood. Something shattering. A lamp,
possibly? “They don’t need a DNA test to prove that’s my semen. I can tell
you right now that it is.... Fuck, I can’t remember? Three weeks ago? Four?
She must have kept them.... Why is she doing this to me? I mean, come on.
I gave her three months of paid leave, we set her up with a ludicrous
severance package. I wrote her a glowing letter of recommendation. She
said she was going to sign. You said she was set to sign. So tell me, what
changed? No, this is on her, not me. It didn’t have to go this way... No...
No! Fuck, no! I don’t care if your firm represents Wolf Corporate. You are
my lawyer and you are going to do what I ask.” Each word coming out of
his mouth sounds more ominous, more conspiring. I shouldn’t be hearing
any of this.
“Listen to me very carefully, Dyson. I don’t care if I have the money
to pay her off. I will not be threatened and extorted on some bullshit
accusation. She’s just pissed because she wanted a white picket fence and
three kids, and that’s nothing I can give her.... Well, she is obviously that
hurt, if she’s held on to month-old panties and accused me of rape.... Are
you fucking kidding me? I’ve never forced a woman, Dyson. She wanted it
as much as I did. She fucking begged me for it.”
So, he’s claiming that what Kiera says is a lie. Is that true? Or should
I expect denial to the bitter end from him? She begged me for it. Isn’t that
the classic rapists’ answer?
Or is it the truth? Henry’s a powerful man with lots of money. A
gorgeous, powerful man who, within days, already has me ensnared in an
intoxicating web where I’ll do anything he asks of me.
And women can be vindictive creatures. Back in Greenbank, Billie Jo
Clayburn caught her husband, Matt, in bed with another woman one night.
The next day, after he left for work, she drained their bank accounts, sold
their car, his golf clubs, his family heirlooms, his suits—basically,
everything he valued—to a Pittsburgh pawn shop and hopped on the first
plane to Europe, all before he clocked out for the day. For the rest of the
summer, she posted pictures on Facebook of herself in the laps of various
men, thanking Matt for working so hard to give her the trip of a lifetime,
and wishing him and his boss’s wife a happy life.
Needless to say, Matt was left jobless and penniless, and couldn’t do
much about it because he was the cheating bastard in the first place.
Hearing Henry deny the awful allegations brings a tidal wave of relief
for me, because I so desperately want to believe he wouldn’t do such a
thing. But it’s quickly flattened by a bursting ache of reality and hurt.
He was screwing his last assistant, too.
And I just handed over my virginity to him. So freely.
My stomach roils with the stark reality that, while he may have
quickly invaded my every thought and wish, I’m nothing more than a
plaything for him. A convenient and quick sexual fix.
Something rattles and Henry curses under his breath—it sounds like
he kicked a chair leg or something. I sense him pacing. “Of course the
detective is going to investigate. She handed him my semen on her clothes
and some bullshit lie from her husband about bruising. I’m guessing they’ll
be calling for my DNA sample by the end of the weekend. I can be
uncooperative but that’ll make me look guilty, and they’ll eventually get it
anyway. Either way, they’ll match it and arrest me. That can’t happen,
Dyson! Yes! Of course I’m freaking out! If the media catches wind, it won’t
matter that it’s all bullshit... Who, Kiera? No, she has no clue...”
Kiera has no clue about what?
Henry heaves an exasperated sigh at whatever his lawyer said. I wish
this were over speakerphone. “I’m guessing that dickless husband of hers is
behind all this, anyway. Found out he can’t please his wife anymore and he
doesn’t like it.”
Clearly he doesn’t value marriage vows. Strike two, as if potential
female predator wasn’t a big enough strike one.
“Yeah, do it. I’ll have security let you in.”
I’m holding my breath, waiting as Henry listens to the person speak
on the other side, the cabin dead silent.
That’s when my personal phone starts ringing. The one sitting inside
my purse.
I stifle the urge to hiss with panic as I fumble for it, the strap of my
purse slipping off my shoulder in the process. It hits the floor with a soft
thud. I dive for it, cursing under my breath as I root through the pocket with
frantic hands, finding it and flipping the silence button on the side. Hoping
the noise will go unnoticed.
I’m still on my knees with my head bowed when the door creaks open
wider and Henry’s polished black shoes appear in front of me.
“I’ve gotta go. Call me when you’re in my office and I’ll give you the
code to the safe,” Henry demands, his voice unnaturally calm as compared
to a moment ago, though no less hostile.
I take my time collecting the few items that spilled from my purse
while I decide what to do. What should I say? Do I play dumb? Do I say I
just got here? Do I pretend I don’t know a thing, and smile and wait
expectantly for him to kiss me?
Tell me to strip?
Fuck me on his desk? In his bed?
Even as appalled as I am with him right now, I’d be lying if I said the
thought of having him touch me doesn’t spark heat between my thighs. He’s
turned me into some sort of sex deviant. But I can’t just sit here on my
knees as if I’m waiting for him to unzip his fly. I finally dare look up, in
time to see his hand stretch out in front of him, palm out.
It could be considered a gentlemanly offer, and yet from Henry Wolf I
hear the command.
Sliding my fingers over his calloused palm—he must have earned
those splitting wood—I ease to my feet. I take a deep, calming breath
before I let my gaze climb his firm, hard body, his charcoal designer suit as
perfect and out of place in the wilds of Alaska as on any other day, before
meeting his eyes. The cold, steely blue in them instantly creates knots in my
stomach.
“You have a bad, bad habit of eavesdropping, Abigail,” he whispers.
He knows I hate being called Abigail, but now’s not the time to
remind him of that. I clear my throat to avoid sounding weak and fearful. “I
didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Liar.” His lip twitches with amusement, but it falls off so quickly.
“What exactly did you hear?”
Here’s the moment of truth. Lie and smile, or confront him with what
I know. Which is it?
I’ve never been good at confrontation. In fact, I’m downright terrible
at it. I take after my father in that. It’s why my mama is able to so
effectively bully us both into living the Bernadette Mitchell way. It’s why I
didn’t punch Jed in his lying, cheating face when he told me to wait for him
while he sowed his wild oats. It’s why I’ve been so good at denying reality
since I met Henry.
I don’t want to deny reality again. Yet, I have to be smart, because it’s
clear Henry doesn’t take too well to anything that feels like a threat.
Henry’s eyes dip down to my white blouse, and I know that the button
has slipped through the hole once again. As it is, the shirt doesn’t do a good
job of hiding my ample cleavage—apparently one of his favorite things
about me.
I let go of his hand and fold my arms over my chest in a weak attempt
to deny him any pleasure from my body as I fix the button. But when his
eyes meet mine and I see the heat in them, I know it will take more than
that.
“I heard something about a woman who was ‘begging you for it.’ And
her husband.”
That seems to douse whatever lurid thoughts Henry may be having.
He sighs and turns, heading back into the main cabin. I trail without
thought, desperate to hear how he’s going to answer this. What he’s going
to say. I already know the truth, or at least part of it.
I frown when I see him head for the crystal decanter. “It’s barely
noon.”
“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” he mutters, pouring himself a glass of
the amber liquid.
“You sure you want to be doing that, with all the media coming in?
And your father? What are they going to say?”
“The smell of scotch on my breath is the least of my problems right
now.” I watch his Adam’s apple bob with a gulp, my mouth parting
involuntarily at the memory of running my tongue along the sharp jut. It’s
far from the only part of him that I’ve enjoyed running my tongue over.
Silence hangs around us as Henry turns his back to me and stares out
the window for a long moment, taking in the priceless view of the waters
and tree-lined shores that make up Wolf Cove, a secluded inlet off
Kachemak Bay that Henry’s family has owned for generations, the place
where Henry decided to open his luxurious Wolf Cove Hotel.
“My last assistant has just filed a civil suit against Wolf Hotels for
wrongful dismissal, along with a police report that I forced myself on her.
She has a pair of panties with my semen on it, and her husband is claiming
she came home after meeting with me with bruises on her arms from where
I restrained her when I assaulted her. They’ve opened a police investigation
and will likely arrest me. Kiera’s asking for ten million to settle out of court
for the civil suit, and my father will force me to pay it out of my coffers to
minimize Wolf Hotels’ involvement with my mess. If I’m charged with
anything that looks like sexual assault, then there is no way my father can
hand over controlling share of Wolf Hotels to me. In both cases, the board
of directors will demand my resignation as acting CEO immediately.”
It’s basically everything I just overheard, and yet somehow it feels
more real, hearing him tell me firsthand. I simply stand there with my
mouth hanging open in shock.
“And did you?”
“Did I what?” His head whips around and I feel the full effect of that
glare in the pit of my stomach. “Did I force myself on her? No. Of course
not.”
I swallow against the discomfort of that weight. “But you slept with
her.” My voice sounds so small and weak. Hurt.
Realization fills his face. “I tell you that I’m about to lose everything
I’ve been working for because someone is falsely accusing me of rape, and
you’re upset that that I even fucked her in the first place?” He shakes his
head, bitter amusement twisting his features. “The answer is yes, I fucked
my last assistant. But it wasn’t forced; she was very willing. Does hearing
that make you feel better?”
No. Not at all. “I just thought....” My voice trails off as the ache in my
chest swells. “I don’t know what I thought.”
He runs his hands through his mane of hair the color of roasted
chestnuts, sending it into sexy disarray. I can actually see the tension
cording the muscles in his neck and shoulders. He’s worried, and rightfully
so. At best, he’s going to lose Wolf Hotels and have his life dragged through
the mud. At worst, he could go to jail.
“I’m so sorry she’s doing this to you. If there was some way to help
you, I would. Please know that.”
He opens his mouth but pauses, his eyes trailing over my body. His
dress shoes click against the hardwood floor as he approaches slowly,
setting his drink on the side table on his way past, the glass hitting the
surface with a loud clunk. “You thought—” his voice has softened
somewhat by the time he stops right in front of me, his index finger sliding
beneath my chin to tilt my head back to meet his gaze, also softened “—that
I’ve never slept with an assistant before. That you were an exception.”
I want to deny it, but I falter. Yes. That’s exactly what I thought. Why
did I think that? Did he ever say anything to make me think this was
different for him? Or did I simply want to think that this whirlwind thing
between us was uncontrollable and kismet and special? That I was special.
He levels me with that intense stare, waiting for me to answer.
“I thought this wasn’t something you normally do,” I finally admit.
“And what if I said this”—his free hand waves back and forth
between us—“is different? That, from the moment I met you out on that
dock, all belligerent and adorable, I knew you were different. Would you
believe me?”
Would I? I already know I’d want to believe it. Wouldn’t any normal
woman, when she meets a man who consumes her thoughts? Whether we
want to admit it or not, don’t we all secretly pine over the hope that the man
will fall head over heels for us, grow weak with lack of control, not be able
to stop thinking about us?
Or is that just the naïve romantic fools like me?
I play back all the things Henry has said to me. What was it exactly
he said this thing between us is? I’m getting over an idiot ex and fucking
my boss for the next four months. Henry’s running a hotel and fucking his
assistant for the next four months. That’s all it is. I can’t forget that part. He
said that, too. He never committed to more.
And yet, despite his words, I have somehow convinced myself that
there is a deeper connection between us.
I may be spineless sometimes, and naïve most of the time, but I won’t
knowingly let myself be downright stupid. “No. I wouldn’t believe you if
you told me that.”
“Right. And you shouldn’t.” He nods, more to himself than me. “So
I’m not going to bother standing here and trying to convince you otherwise.
But do you really believe I would force myself on a woman? Have I ever
forced myself on you?”
My gaze searches his chiseled freshly shaved jaw as flashes pass
through my mind—Henry, naked; Henry, undressing me; Henry, thrusting
into my waiting body—and I can’t keep my breathing from growing ragged.
“No. Never.” He’s been forward, and dominating, and he has taunted me,
but he has never forced himself on me. I’ve always wanted it. Always.
But did Kiera? She was married. Did she say no to him, even once?
“Could you have been mistaken by what she wanted? Maybe you
misunderstood her?”
His jaw turns hard. “No, Abbi. I didn’t misunderstand anything. Not
when she propositioned me time and time again, not when she told me she
—” He cuts himself off, closing his eyes. “Not when we both decided it was
best she find another job because I couldn’t give her what she wanted.” The
mask he keeps firmly in place over his features slips, showing the
vulnerability, the anger, the disgust—and a touch of fear—beneath. “I never
touched her in any way she didn’t want. You need to believe me when I say
that.”
Why? Why do I need to believe him?
Besides the fact that I already do.
He searches my eyes and must see that answer because his face
softens and his shoulders sink with a heavy exhale. Reaching up to gently
graze my cheek with the back of his knuckles, he whispers, “I didn’t know
how to tell you. I wanted to. I just found out last night, and I’ve been trying
to get a handle on it all before I unnecessarily worry or scare you.”
“And should I? Be scared?”
His hands settle onto my hips with a tight grip. He leans forward and
burrows his face in the crook of my neck, his warm breath tickling my skin
in that delicious way. “I am,” he finally admits in a whisper. “I never
expected her to do this to me.”
Even as jealousy pricks my heart for whatever intimacy he’s shared
with his past assistant, that he’s here with me now, allowing me to see such
a vulnerable side to him in the face of personal ruin, makes me want to
shelter him. Protect him.
I revel in the feel of his sinewy muscles beneath my fingers as I slide
my hands up his arms to his shoulders, to the back of his neck, cupping it in
a comforting gesture. “They’ll investigate and find out that she’s lying, and
everything will be okay.”
I’m not sure I believe that, but he needs to hear it right now.
I’m also not sure that I won’t get burned in this fire, if I’m somehow
dragged into this mess. But, so what if everyone back home finds out I slept
with my boss? There are far worse things that I could be doing. Plus, it’s a
summer job that’ll be long over by then. I’ll be fine. I need to stop being so
selfish. I may not deserve the fallout of Henry’s previous indiscretion, but
Henry definitely doesn’t deserve what she’s doing to him.
There’s still the matter of a husband, though. “You knew she was
married.”
“She told me they were separating.”
“But they weren’t actually separated.”
He sighs and pulls away from me, wandering over to pick up his glass
and take another sip. “I’ve never claimed to be a saint, Abbi. You know that.
We were working together for months before I laid a hand on her. Twelve-
hour days, weekends. We started getting close. She said she was miserable
in her marriage, and she was attracted to me. So, I finally gave her what she
wanted.” He polishes off the glass. “Just like I gave you what you wanted,
when you wanted to get over your ex. Remember? The idiot who asked you
to wait for him while he fucks his new girlfriend?” Even from a good five
feet away, I can feel his eyes touch me like fingertips drawn over my body,
dipping first to my mouth, then to the top button of my blouse, no doubt a
shift away from popping open again. “Or have you already forgotten?
Maybe I did my job too well.”
“He broke up with me. And he wasn’t my husband.”
Henry reaches up to loosen his tie and then closes the space between
us smoothly, his size dominating me. I take an instinctive step back, only to
find my back hitting the wall. “Do you really care about who I fucked in the
past, and whether they were married, Abbi? The past is the past. We’ve all
made mistakes.” With one more step, his hands find purchase on the wall on
either side of me, effectively caging me in.
God, how has it turned so hot in here, suddenly? How does he do
that? I’m supposed to be disgusted by him right now—and part of me is—
but all I can do is inhale that intoxicating cologne and absorb the heat
radiating from that firm, powerful body, and remind myself about how good
those hands and that mouth have made me feel, time and time again.
“Yes. I do care.” It’s my feeble attempt to take the moral high road,
and I don’t believe myself. Henry’s arched brow tells me he doesn’t either.
Probably because I’m quite literally panting right now.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what to think about any of this,” I finally
admit.
With a flick of his fingers, the button on my blazer pops open. With
another flick, the top button of my blouse pops next, followed by the one
below it, exposing the simple cotton bra I have beneath. Not exactly sexy,
but I didn’t come to Alaska with anything that could be classified as “sexy,”
and besides, there aren’t a ton of sexy options for my D-cup breasts that
don’t cost a small fortune.
“You need to get out there. All those journalists and....” My words
fade with a gasp as he pushes my blazer off my shoulders. His hands
quickly work the rest of my shirt until the buttons are unfastened, my shirt
is sliding from my shoulders, and my bra straps hang loose at the crooks of
my elbows, exposing my swollen breasts to the cool air and Henry’s searing
gaze.
I know exactly where this is heading. As controlled as Henry can be,
he also likes to finish what he starts.
Sure enough, he hikes my skirt up and hooks his hands around the
backs of my thighs. With little effort he has me hoisted and pinned to the
wall with his body, his impressive erection pressing between my legs, his
mouth dipping down to take my nipple in.
A moan escapes my lips as my head falls back against the wall. I
enjoy the feel of his wet tongue against my flesh and the threat of his teeth
as he teases lightly. I free my arms of my bra straps so I can weave my
fingers through his hair, fisting his mane tight as I shamelessly writhe
against the pressure between my legs.
With one last hard—almost painful—suck, he lets my breast fall from
his mouth and comes up to meet my lips. Trapping me against the wall with
his pelvis, he reaches up to cup my face with both hands, and then plants
the softest kiss on my lips. “I had no interest in starting up anything after
that mess with Kiera. I was going to focus on Wolf Cove and taking over
Wolf Hotels officially, and then find myself someone appropriate. But I met
you and that all went to shit. This all happened so fast, and I wasn’t
expecting it at all.”
I stare into his beautiful blue eyes, unshielded by their usual mask,
and I revel in his whispered words, in the promise they hold. Is it really
possible? Could this powerful, overwhelming man feel something for me? I
mean, I know he’s attracted to me. That in itself is still a shock to me, but
the proof is pressed against me right now, and he’s proved it many times
over.
But... what is he saying? That this could this actually be the start of
something more?
A warm flood of emotion washes over me.
I close my eyes, reveling in the feel of his hot breath skating over my
neck again.
“You should know by now that I love making a woman scream, but
not from pain. And I love making a woman shake, but not from fear.” His
teeth graze my earlobe. “And you know what gets me hard? A woman
who’s dripping wet for me. Who can’t keep her legs together when I’m
around. Who can’t hide the fact that she’s turned on and begging to be
touched.” He drops one hand down to force it between us. I gasp as the pad
of his thumb slides over me, gently brushing my swollen clit through my
nylons and my soaked panties.
I dive forward to kiss him but he pulls back a touch, his lips hovering
over mine, skating teasingly over them with each whisper spoken.
“I know I have no right to ask this, but please, stick with me through
this. Don’t make me lose you—this—because of her.”
“Of course.” I can’t imagine going anywhere that means not having
this man’s lips on mine.
“Do you remember what I said I need when I’m stressed?”
I nod, blood rushing to my groin in anticipation.
He pulls back just far enough to show me his eyes, to let me see the
flurry of intense passion, anger, and wild desperation in them. “I’ve never
been more stressed in my life. And I need you, right now. Please.”
I want to make him feel better. I want to give him exactly what he
wants.
