Own Me (The Wolf Hotel, #5)(59)

Warner layers on, “Secret Wolf Daddy?” They all laugh. Even I’m having a hard time keeping a straight face.

“You’re all idiots. How the fuck are you guys in your thirties?” Henry snaps, giving them the rise they’re fishing for.

“Look at him, thinking he’s more mature than us because he’s a father now,” Warner throws back, earning another round of laughter.

Margo’s jaw drops as she stares at Henry and then spouts something in French.

Finally, something that shocks her.





CHAPTER 15





I wake to the sound of Henry’s throaty chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” I roll over to find him staring at his phone.

Instead of explaining, he hands it to me.

Henry: Hi, Violet, it’s Henry Wolf. Your grandparents agreed to fix up the house to sell through my agent. You’ll get a much better price for it. I’ll deal with Barbara.

It’s the message he sent to Violet last night after I pushed him. Short and simple and lacking any affection whatsoever, but I remind myself that Henry is still learning to crawl when it comes to her.

I caught Henry checking his phone a dozen times last night and while he always had something work-related waiting for him, I don’t think that’s what he was looking for.

Violet finally responded this morning, likely after weighing her answer all night, and it seems they’ve been chatting while I blissfully snored beside him.

Violet: Hello, Henry Wolf. My grandparents told me. What is that saying? Oh yeah … I told you so.

Henry: What is that other saying? Oh yeah … You’re welcome.

Violet: If I give your invisible robotic eye the finger, will you see it?

Henry: Yes. Stop giving your grandparents a hard time.

Violet answered with a saluting emoji.

I knew she would resist thanking Henry. She likely harbors a lot of confused feelings where he and her mother are concerned. “She knows what you did for her, even if she didn’t say it,” I promise him, handing his phone back.

I hug my pillow and watch him stand and stretch, his firm ass on display. “You should take the day off.” It’s seven thirty a.m. and normally Henry’s already almost out the door, but this weekend was exhausting in the best way.

“Can’t. Some of us have to work.” He rounds the bed, leaning down to kiss my lips. “I’ve got interviews for the new team to head the metals divisions.”

“Hey! I have interviews this week too.” Just saying that out loud sounds so foreign, but Zaheera insists I need an assistant to help with the administrative things. Her team has already vetted a pile of résumés and selected the best three candidates for me to choose from.

I assume she’ll also tell me which one I should hire.

“You should get up, then.”

I burrow back under the covers, planning on sleeping until my hangover headache—the second day in a row—fades.

The duvet flies away with a yank. I howl as Henry slaps my bare ass. “Shower. Now.” Henry’s giddy. He’s never giddy in the morning, especially not on a Monday.

I watch his perfect, naked body move toward the en suite. Seeing his friends this weekend definitely lifted his spirits, but I think this mood has more to do with a certain sassy blue-eyed girl.





“I have to fly to Barcelona next week,” Henry tells me through a sip of his coffee, his gaze on his phone as he reads through urgent emails. “I’ll be gone four days. Let Miles know if you’re coming with me?”

I try to hide my dismay at the idea of Henry gone for that long. “I can’t. I wish I could, but I have way too much to do for this launch, including making the actual soap. And I’m meeting with Jill. And I have assignments to catch up on or I won’t get those credits.” Just listing out the warring priorities has me stressed. “I need Victor to drive me to my office today if you don’t need him?” It still sounds odd to call the little commercial space across the Lincoln Tunnel in New Jersey that I’ve rented “my office.”

Henry’s smile is soft. “I like seeing you like this.”

“Like what? Overwhelmed?”

“Busy with things that are yours and important to you. Don’t worry, you’ll manage it.”

He’s talking about my company and my education. Even the wedding, which is technically ours, but Control Freak Henry wants me to make the decisions so it’s one hundred percent what I want.

My phone chirps with a text from Autumn.

Autumn: Not to be the bearer of bad news on a Monday morning, but you did ask me to send you anything that comes up.

I click on the celebrity gossip site link she included. And gasp in horror.

Wolf Heir and Assistant Spotted at Exclusive High Society Sex Party with Friends Margo Lauren and Hedge Fund Playboy Preston Abbott.

“I thought you said it was a secret party!” My stomach sinks as I see a grainy picture of Henry and I stepping out of Victor’s car on Saturday night, our masks firmly in place. But it’s us—the black-and-white stripes of my tights, my red braid stretching down my back. They’ve circled my hand again, as if the barely visible ring is recognizable. They really love doing that.

Henry rounds the counter to look over my shoulder. “They can’t tell that’s us.”