Chapter Eleven
My black Tieks pad softly along the stone path, sheltered from the drizzle
by the elaborately constructed wooden canopy above. The covering
stretches all the way from the main lodge to the cabins, easily three hundred
feet away. In one hand I hold a paper cup filled with staff lounge coffee, in
the other the iPad, to hopefully catch up on everything I didn’t read when I
passed out last night.
Unlike yesterday at this time of the morning, Wolf Cove is buzzing
with life, staff preparing to meet the first wave of guests at noon with
glasses of champagne and swift check-ins. Again, I wonder what I’m
supposed to do until my guest arrives.
Ahead of me, the covered path splits off into three smaller paths, each
leading toward an elegant and detailed timber cabin, small replicas of the
main lodge. An ornate bronzed sign points me to the right.
Penthouse Cabin One and its grand mahogany door stand before me.
As Belinda promised, the servants’ entrance is next to it. Inhaling deeply, I
stick my key card into the slot and wait for the telltale beep and green light
to allow me in.
The liaison’s room is a small nook. On my left is a basic office: a
desk, phone, computer, stationery supplies, and the like. Across from me is
another door. The one, I presume, that leads into the suite. To my right,
shelving with extra supplies—towels, bedding, every toiletry you could
imagine, wine glasses—line the wall, along with a shiny stacked washer
and dryer. There’s a doorway at the far end. I wander through it and find a
small powder room and a twin bed tucked into the corner. I guess that’s
where I’ll sleep, if I have a guest who insists on it?
I’m not crazy about this idea.
With a nervous sigh, I set my things on the desk and survey the space
again, scanning over the bulletin board. It’s neatly plastered with all kinds
of information: the restaurant and room service menus, full alcoholic
beverage choices, and phone numbers to all facilities, as well as a checklist
of all expected duties, along with timelines.
Place newspaper in mail slot by 6:30 a.m. Does that mean I need to
be here by six thirty every morning? And how does Wolf Cove even get
newspapers that early?
Deliver new vase of fresh-cut flowers each day with breakfast. That, I
can remember.
Turndown service at 8:00 p.m. or when the guest requests it, if they
are staying in.
When does my shift here end? Obviously I’ll be handing off at some
point... right?
Suddenly the door to the suite opens and I spin on my heels.
“Good, you’re here,” Henry says, filling the doorframe with his body.
It takes me a moment to respond, my mouth hanging open in shock.
“What are you doing here?” I scan him from head to toe, and excited
butterflies fill my stomach, making me forget my current stress levels. He’s
as intoxicating as ever to look at, his black pants custom-fit to a body that
sees the leg press at the gym regularly, no doubt. His dress shirt is still
hanging open, revealing a white V-neck t-shirt beneath, the material thin
and fitted enough to highlight his pectoral muscles and a six-pack beneath.
“I live here.”
“You live here?” My gaze drifts past him to catch glimpses of a white
couch and fur rug, and a rustic-hewn side table.
“While I’m in Alaska, yes.” Mesmerizing blue eyes float over my
uniform, unnerving me. I was already feeling self-conscious in it. My skirt
hugs my body from my hips right down to my knees. It’s a good thing that
bending won’t be easy in it because the slit up the back is deep. The blouse
is more fitted across the chest than I had expected, and I don’t know if that’s
the design or my disproportionately ample boobs. It’s missing at least two
buttons off the top for what I’m comfortable with. I won’t be able to lean
over without exposing myself. All in all, it’s a modest, professional outfit
that’s not so modest or professional after all. But I guess all the female
liaisons wear it, so I need to suck it up.
Henry takes several steps back—his feet are bare—and gestures for
me to come in.
I follow him, the smell of soap and aftershave filling my nostrils. His
hair is still damp from a shower.
I finally force my eyes off him—because I’m staring—and train them
on the full wall of floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite end. The vast
expanse of water stretches beyond. “Nice place.” Inside, the cabin walls and
ceiling are made entirely of wood. I can’t be sure of what kind, but it has a
grayish coloring, which complements the soft decorative palette of whites,
grays, and creams. It’s obvious that a topnotch designer had a hand in every
detail.
My head tips back to take in the double-story vaulted ceiling, and the
thick beams running the length on either side. “Steep.”
“I like high ceilings,” Henry explains easily, wandering over to the
dining table, where room service dishes rest. He pours himself a coffee.
“Would you like one?”
I hold up my paper cup in answer.
A sexy smirk curls his lip. “I promise, this will be better.”
While he’s pouring into a second cup, my gaze drifts toward a sliding
door to the right, half-open. Behind it I spy the bedroom, a mess of bed
sheets strewn over the bed. My body begins to hum with the mental vision
of Henry’s body tangled within those sheets. Does he wear something? Or
does he sleep naked?
“Abbi?”
“Yes?” My head whips back to Henry, to find him holding the
creamer over my cup.
“Cream and sugar?”
“Yes, please.”
He prepares it wordlessly and then sets the cup in front of me.
“Thank you.” I take a long sip, releasing a soft moan. He’s right—the
stuff from the staff lodge tastes like mud by comparison.
He quietly watches me savor my coffee, one hand resting over the
damask-upholstered dining chair, until I begin to squirm under the weighty
gaze.
“Why did you tell Belinda to move me here? I don’t know the first
thing about serving your wealthy guests. I’m going to disappoint people.”
You, most of all.
He sets his mug down. “You’re not here to serve my rich guests. I
want you to work for me.”
I frown, confused. “I thought I already was working for you.”
“Not as Wolf Cove staff. As my personal assistant.”
“Your personal assistant,” I repeat, surprise numbing my senses.
“I lost my assistant recently, and I need someone to keep me
organized. Someone I can trust. And, frankly, I need someone to take care
of me. Look at this place; it’s a disaster.”
I scan the room again at his prompt. Aside from a few loose
newspapers and empty dishes, I don’t see anything amiss. “What would you
need me to do?”
“Basic admin work, like managing my calendar and e-mail, booking
my meetings, booking excursions with investors and other important
clientele that come in. Attend management meetings with me. Liaise with
Belinda to make sure the grand-opening event goes smoothly. That is
especially important. There will be a lot of media here.”
“I have no experience.”
“That’s not what you said in your interview. You worked in the
church office, managing your reverend’s calendar and helping organize
events, right?”
I laugh. “That’s nothing like what you’re asking me to do now!” A
weekly coffee with Edith, the ninety-two-year-old organist. The first of the
month food drive in the church basement. Not exactly on par with the CEO
of a luxury hotel chain’s daily schedule, I’m sure.
He pops a grape into his mouth and chews slowly. “I called the
Reverend. He spoke highly of you.”
“Reverend Enderbey? You called him?” I squeak. “When?”
“A few days after the job fair.”
“You wanted me back then?” His eyebrows spike and I replay my
words in my head. “I mean, for this job,” I quickly correct, flushing.
He flashes the tiniest, most devilish of smirks, and my stomach
flutters. I’m beginning to crave those smirks. “I began considering you for
the position then, yes.” With slow, measured steps, he closes the distance to
me, circling me. “I called your aunt, too. We spoke at length about your
work ethic, your reliability, and your values.” There's a hint of mockery
with that last piece, and I wonder if that has to do with his own lack of faith,
or my poor demonstration of those values to date. “She told me all about
your painful breakup with the Reverend’s son.”
“Wait a minute.” It dawns on me. “So, that night on the dock, you
already knew who I was and that you’d hired me to be your assistant?”
Henry stops directly behind me, forcing me to turn around. I find him
on the edge of my personal space, like a sly animal closing in on me.
Confusion and wariness compete for my attention. What kind of game is he
playing here?
“I hadn’t made my final decision yet and, honestly,” his steely blue
gaze flickers to my mouth, “after that night, I wasn’t sure that you would be
a good fit for me.”
Because I practically licked his neck and asked him to sleep with me.
Will I ever live that night down?
“That’s why I took you out yesterday morning. I needed to spend time
with you, sober, to make sure that this would work.”
“And you think it will?”
“Obviously.”
Obviously. “So, then... Hiring me for the outdoor team—”
“Was never going to happen. When I found out, I made Belinda
change you in the system before you got here. There is no way I am putting
you in there with those guys. It’d be like dropping a lamb into a pack of
wolves.”
So Belinda was in on this from the beginning. That explains her lack
of concern or compassion. “I can take care of myself,” I argue, feeling more
than a little annoyed at being deceived all this time.
He reaches up to touch my braid, his fingers skimming down the
length of it until he lets it fall. “Really? And what do you think would have
happened to you that night, had one of them found you on the dock instead
of me?” Amusement slides off his face, replaced with a hard look. “Drunk
and broadcasting that you’re a virgin, your hands all over the guy’s chest,
whispering in his ear... asking him to fuck you.” I gasp at his words, more
inappropriate now than when I said them to him that night. “Your night
would have ended with you bent over the table in the utility shed, I can
promise you that. Most men don’t have the kind of control that I do, not
when you dangle that kind of bait in front of them.”
What is he saying? That he needed to exercise control that night? Was
I maybe not imagining things? Was this beautiful, sexy, all-consuming man
in front of me considering acting on my request?
I push that thought aside because it no longer matters, if I’m going to
be working as his assistant. And because it’s plain ludicrous. Still, I struggle
to regain my composure. My voice wobbles when I speak. “What if I don’t
want to take this job?”
Surprise flickers across his face. “You don’t want to work with me
every day? I thought you were happy that I was staying.”
“No, that’s not... I’m not saying...” I stumble over my words. “I mean,
what if I’m not convinced I can do this job?”
He smiles now. “I’m convinced you can do it. You’re smart. I think
you know when to jump at an opportunity. Fake it ’til you make it, right? Or
something like that.”
I did lie to get this job. Though, they saw through it immediately.
I nod. “So, administrative stuff?”
Another three heartbeats pass and then he moves past me and back
toward the dining table and his coffee cup. I sense his demeanor shifting
back to a more professional one. “And personal assistant help, too. I
dragged a guy out of bed last night at midnight to dry-clean my suit because
I didn’t get a chance to bring it down earlier. I need someone who’s going to
be on top of those kinds of things for me.”
On top of dressing Henry? What about undressing Henry... I grit my
teeth to keep the smile at bay. “That, I think I can do.”
His hand waves through the area. “And keeping this place in order,
clean. I don’t let staff in here. I have too many confidential and private
things lying around.”
“You don’t trust your staff?”
“No.” Not a moment’s hesitation answering that.
“But, why hire people you don’t trust?”
“I have my reasons,” he says, and I can tell he’s not going to
elaborate. “But I do trust you.”
“Why?”
“Because my gut tells me that I can, and I make decisions based on
my gut.” He pauses, his eyes dipping down over my outfit again, that thick
fringe of lash a thing of beauty. “I’m your boss, and you’re my employee,
and I know you won’t cross any lines. While you’re sober, anyway.”
So, again, it all comes down to sex. And women wanting him,
perhaps. Spoken by any other man, I’d write him off as an egotistical
douchebag. But it’s this man standing in front of me, and I’ve already seen
and heard firsthand how his employees talk about him, like he’s a piece of
meat they’ll do anything to sink their teeth into.
“This job means spending a lot of time with me. Being in my living
space with me while I’m rushing in and out, getting ready for meetings and
events. Putting up with me while things are stressful. Do you think you can
handle that?”
I can’t ignore how my heart hasn’t stopped racing since he opened the
door, or how the flutters of excitement have only increased with every word
out of his mouth. Or how I keep inhaling deeply, to absorb the fresh, clean
smell of him. Or how I keep replaying the feel of his arms around my body
and his erection against my ass.
Is this a good idea? Am I setting myself up for constant frustration?
I’ll probably become a champion masturbator by the end of the summer.
What’s worse, the way he asks it, it’s like he knows exactly what’s
going through my head right now. I don’t want my boss to know that I’m
attracted to him in a major way. A way I didn’t believe I could be. A way
that has all but shoved Jed from my thoughts.
I have to clear my throat, afraid my words will come out shaky.
“Exactly how much time?”
He levels me with a look. “I want you available to me day and night,
unless I say otherwise. Some days will require more than others. Some
early mornings, some late nights. You’ll be paid a flat salary that more than
covers an hourly wage plus overtime.”
I frown. “But...” Day and night? “How will that work?” It dawns on
me. There is no staff shift trade-off.
Henry frowns. “You look worried.”
“I’m just taking it all in. Will I have to stay in there?” I glance back
toward the staff quarters, to the little hobbit room. I’m not sure how I feel
about that. On the one hand, it’s my own room. On the other, I won’t get
any sleep knowing Henry is so close.
He smiles. “I’m not a tyrant. I will give you time off, Abbi.” He
strolls over to the desk that sits in one corner, overlooking the water, and
collects paper and pen. “Before we go any further, I need you to sign this
confidentiality agreement.” He sets it on the table in front of me. “It’s pretty
standard.”
“I’ve never signed one of these,” I admit, picking it up.
“No?” His fingers move absently over his shirt, fastening his buttons.
“I’ve signed a thousand in my lifetime already. Take your time and read
through it. I need to finish getting dressed now.” He disappears into his
bedroom, leaving me to the paperwork.
It’s pretty easy to understand. Basically, I’m not to talk about Henry
—anything he says or does—or he can sue my ass.
“I do require that you not drink while you’re working for me,” he
calls out from his room. “Given what I saw the other night, it’s too risky.”
“I think we’ve already covered that I won’t ever be drinking again.” I
scroll my name along the bottom, set the pen down gingerly and take a deep
breath. This feels somehow monumental.
“Done?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I need you in here.”
My heart skips a beat. He needs me in his bedroom. “Coming,” I say,
my voice shaky. All kinds of visions float through my head that I didn’t
even know I could conjure up, but that make blood rush through my body.
Henry stripped down. Henry, lying on his bed, waiting for me.
I find him standing in front of the dresser mirror, holding two ties in
his hands. “Which one should I wear?”
I sigh with relief. “I like the charcoal-and-silver one with that suit.”
“This one?” He holds the navy one up and I frown, earning his laugh
and swap. “I’m color-blind,” he admits, looping the one I chose around his
neck, tossing the other onto the bed. “So don’t be surprised if I ask you to
help me match my socks and ties on occasion.” He pauses. “Are you good
with tying ties?”
“I think so.” I tied Jed’s ties all through high school and into college. I
make my way over, slowing to take in the wall of glass and the water
beyond, hyperaware that I’m about to help Henry get dressed. “What a view
to wake up to every day,” I mumble, trying to diffuse my nerves.
“It’s something, all right.” I feel him staring at my face as my fingers
begin flying, making quick work of the silk, all while my heart feels like it’s
going to leap out of my chest at any moment.
My hands are trembling.
“You have freckles,” he murmurs. “I never noticed them before.”
I scrunch my nose with the reminder. The light smattering across the
bridge has always bothered me. “My glasses usually cover them.”
“I’d offer to get my wetsuit on and dive for them, but I don’t think I
want to. You should keep wearing contacts. They suit you better.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I say nothing, focusing instead on
pulling the end of the tie through, only to find that I’ve made it way too
short. “Hold on, I have to redo.”
He waits quietly, as I loosen and adjust, and then go through the steps
again, my fingers grazing against his body occasionally. Each swipe makes
my skin tingle and my breathing more uneven.
“There. I think that’s perfect,” I whisper, taking a step back to admire
him. God, he is stunning. I honestly can’t tell which look I like more: the
businessman or the lumberjack. Both are equally hot.
But I’ll bet neither can complete with Henry Wolf, naked.
I’ve never even seen a man naked and I’m thinking about that right
now? Ten minutes in to being his assistant? How on earth am I going to
work alongside him for the next four months and maintain my composure?
“Good?”
I duck my head, smiling shyly. “Yes. You’re definitely ready for...
whatever you’re doing today.”
He laughs. “Exactly how I expect the person managing my calendar
to answer. Come.” His fingertips brush the small of my back, the heat from
them searing my skin, as he ushers me past his rumpled sheets. “You can
make my bed for me later.” There’s amusement in his voice.
Now the comment he made in the truck yesterday after I admitted to
not being able to properly make a bed makes sense.
Henry leads me to the desk. He digs out an iPhone from the drawer.
“So I can reach you at all times. It works everywhere on the property. And
here are my passwords to my e-mail accounts and my voice mail. Save
them in your phone and then shred this note. You can access my e-mail with
my computer. Feel free to open any e-mail that comes in unless it’s marked
confidential in the subject line. Those are not to be opened. Belinda will be
by with a laptop and I believe she has already given you an iPad.”
“Yes, last night.” So I could study hours of useless information to be a
liaison, it would seem. Why wouldn’t she tell me that I was going to be
Henry’s assistant?
“Good. You’re all set then. I have about forty conference call requests
in my inbox. Please get them booked in for this week, between 5:00 and
8:00 a.m. Pacific time. Whatever length of time the requester has set, cut it
in half.” He scans his watch. “A few key people are arriving this morning. I
need to meet them at the helicopter pad shortly.” He collects the suit jacket
that lies across his couch and slides his taut, muscular arms into it. “The suit
hanging behind my door needs to go to the cleaners. Belinda has already
made arrangements for the day, but make dinner reservations for three at
Lux for 7:00 p.m. Ensure Cedric is available to us for wine selection, and
that Phil is ready with the plane for our excursion tomorrow morning at
8:30 a.m.”
My mind is spinning as he’s firing off instructions. Grabbing a pen
and pad, I quickly jot down the important names and times, because those
will be the first I forget.
He stops at the door. “Oh, one other thing. In here, when it’s just the
two of us, it’s okay to call me Henry. But outside of these walls, it’s Mr.
Wolf at all times. Is that understood?”
“Yes. Understood.” It’s a good reminder that this man is my boss. I
need to douse whatever fire my body wants to stoke for him.
“So?”
“So...”
“I assume you’re accepting this job.”
This is my chance to get out of this predicament.
Oh, who am I kidding? “Yes. Of course I am.” I tuck a strand of hair
behind my ear, nervously. “I hope I’m what you’re looking for.”
“To be honest, you are not what I was expecting.” He pauses, and a
flash of something dark flickers in his eyes. “But I think you’re exactly
what I’m looking for while I’m here.”
What exactly is he looking for then? Because if it’s me, then it’s not a
competent, experienced assistant. But I will try.
A knock on the door sounds. “That will be your employment
contract.” He opens the door and Belinda steps through.
She smiles and then, seeing me standing there, sets the paperwork and
a laptop down on the side table. “Abbi, please read over and sign this as
soon as possible. The laptop is to stay here at all times.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
She looks to Henry. “Can I have a word with you? In private?”
That’s my cue. “I’ll take that suit to the cleaners,” I offer, rushing to
his bedroom to grab it and head for the servants’ door. That was one of
Paige’s strict directives: always use staff entrances and exits wherever
possible.
I’ve stepped outside, suit slung over my shoulder, and the door is
about to close when I realize that I left my key inside. My hand blocks the
door just before it shuts and locks on me, relieved that I don’t have to start
off on the wrong foot by ringing the doorbell to gain entry.
“I still don’t understand why you wanted her. She has no hotel or
corporate experience,” I hear Belinda say through the servants’ entrance,
still ajar to Henry’s cabin.
I freeze, knowing they’re talking about me, but unable to keep myself
from listening.
“She has some experience. And she’s a college student with
exceptional grades,” Henry offers.
I’m a straight-A student. But how does he know that?
“She didn’t interview well. She shook through the entire interview,
wringing her hands like a worried mother hen.”
“She was nervous.”
“She’s awkward. And frumpy.”
I don’t think there’s anything worse than eavesdropping while
someone talks negatively about you. I should go, but now I’m afraid they’ll
hear the door creak open again, and figure out that I was still here all this
time.
“Not everyone looks like you, Belinda,” Henry says, and I can hear
irritation in his voice beginning to mount. I don’t know if I should find
comfort at his words.
“She doesn’t fit the Wolf employee mold. Did you see that cheap
small-town special she wore to the interview?”
I didn’t think it was that bad.
“You’re making some bad choices lately, Henry.”
“What the hell is your problem?” he snaps.
Yes, exactly. What does Belinda have against me working for Henry?
I’ve never done anything to her!
“Is this about Kiera?” she asks.
Who’s Kiera? Henry’s ex?
Silence hangs in the room and I take a step closer to the door, afraid
I’ll miss his answer.
“I heard things got ugly. And expensive.” Belinda’s voice has turned
soft, more cautious, as if she knows she’s treading on thin ice. “I got a call
from your father a few days ago.”
“For fuck’s sakes,” he grumbles, and then heaves a sigh of
exasperation. “A few days ago? Why didn’t you tell me right away? What
did he want?” This is a new Henry, and not a happy one at that.
“He asked me if there was anything going on up here that he should
be worried about.”
“And you told him what?”
She clears her throat. “That everything was going smoothly.”
“Good. Let that be the answer every time he calls.”
“And will it be the truth?”
“I don’t like this version of you, Belinda. You work for me.”
“I work for Wolf, and right now that’s still William Wolf, until he
officially hands the company over to you. And I’ve worked too hard for this
company to have it all go down the drain because you’re fucking some farm
girl. She’s twenty-one!”
My mouth drops open in shock with the suggestion. She thinks he...
we’re... why would she think that?
Henry starts to laugh. It’s not a happy sound, though. “Is that what
this is all about? Are you jealous of Abbi? What’s wrong, Belinda? You’re
starting to panic about the big forty coming up?”
“Fuck you.” The contrite woman is gone again.
“Don’t forget who gave you this job,” he warns through a growl. “I
chose the farm girl to avoid any more headaches.”
“Well, she’s not exactly ugly.”
“No, she’s not,” he agrees. “But she is a girl, pining for some
spineless dickhead who dumped her and is never coming back. Insecure,
stupid little girls don’t attract me, Belinda. You know that.”
My cheeks burn with hurt and confusion. He just finished telling me
that I was a smart woman, and I lapped it up. Now I’m an insecure, stupid
little girl?
“Maybe I need to be reminded.”
I frown at the suggestive tone in Belinda’s words.
There’s a long, lingering pause, unsettling my nerves. “Wolf Hotels
will be mine next month, and you won’t have a job here if you don’t inform
me the second my father calls next time.” Henry delivers that threat in a
curt, no-nonsense tone that I never want him to use with me. “And if you
ever feel like giving him truths, how about you tell him how much you
loved having my dick in your mouth while we were opening that hotel in
Istanbul. Find out if he thinks that was professional.”
Oh my God.
He’s her boss. Isn’t that against the rules?
Above my shock, though, envy erupts in my chest. Now I know why
she hates me so much. Though it’s ridiculous.
Belinda’s heels click along the tile and then the main entrance door
opens and shuts. I steal a peek through the tiny window in time to see
Henry marching two steps ahead of her down the covered path.
I’m alone.
I drop the suit over the desk chair, the high of being hired by Henry as
his assistant dampened. While I never truly believed that Henry could be
attracted to me, I must have been holding out some hope, some fantasy, that
he might be. Now I know for certain that the looks, the moments, the
erection pressing against my ass, were all wishful thinking on my part. I
feel all the more ridiculous that my subconscious ever entertained such
thoughts.
At least hearing it straight from his mouth will help me keep myself
grounded and my head out of the clouds.
I shouldn’t let it get to me. I am a farm girl. I am insecure, especially
after what happened with Jed. I wish I wasn’t so. And I would be stupid to
believe that anything that’s happened equates to his attraction to me.
But the idea that he sees me as an insecure, stupid little girl pining for
a spineless coward has slipped under my skin like a bothersome sliver.
Because, deep down inside, I know he’s right.
Enough already. It’s been three months, and Jed is dating someone
else. I need to move on. I’m twenty-one years old, I’m in Alaska, and I need
to let go.
And become someone that Henry not only trusts, but respects. After
all, I’m going to be spending the next four months working for him.
He’s given me a job—a gift, really. I’m going to be the best assistant
he could ask for.
Marching back to the desk, I collect the scrap of paper. “Cedric...
Phil...” I read off my notes, all chicken scratch. Nearly illegible, even to me.
“Oh, you’re going to regret this, Henry.” I dial the concierge desk.
“How may I be of assistance, Mr. Wolf?” A deep male voice croons.
“It’s not Mr. Wolf. It’s his personal assistant.” I try that on for size. It
sounds weird. “Is Autumn there yet?”
