Own Me (The Wolf Hotel, #5)(66)

She doesn’t know him at all, though, I remind myself.

“He is rich,” I admit because there’s no point denying it. And you will be, too, once that trust fund opens to you. “But he doesn’t care if I make a dollar doing this. Well, that’s not true. He wants me to make money because then it means someone’s buying my soaps and I’m not a giant failure,” I correct. “But he pushed me because he wanted me to have something that I can be proud of.” I smile softly. “He’s encouraged me through this entire venture. I would never have had the nerve to do this.” Nor the funds, but that’s beside the point.

When I asked him why he pushed Zaheera and her start-up company on me, he said it was because he didn’t want me to drown in his world.

I’m beginning to appreciate it now.

Violet watches me work for a few minutes. “How often does Henry come here?”

“He hasn’t been here yet. He’s not great at sitting back and watching. I guess that comes with the territory when you’re as successful as he is, but he’s trying to stay as hands-off as possible.” He saw the listing before I signed the lease because I wanted his input, but aside from those first few weeks of hiring Zaheera’s company, when he was blind-copied on all the emails between us to ensure they were doing what he expected of them, he’s stepped away. “He said he’d come in next week, though, for the launch. Once he’s back from Spain.”

“Oh. So, he’s not around?” She quickly adds, “Gramps said something about wanting to call him.”

Maybe Howard does have reason to call Henry, but I didn’t miss the hint of disappointment in her voice with that first part. “He comes home tomorrow. His plane takes off early so he should be home by midmorning.”

She bites her bottom lip but doesn’t say anything.

A—possibly stupid—idea strikes me. “You know, you could always stay over at our place tonight. Work on your project there. That way if you have any more questions, I can answer them.”

“In Manhattan?”

“Yeah. We have plenty of room.”

She hesitates. “I didn’t bring any clothes with me.”

“I’m sure I have something that’ll fit you, and we can stop at the store on the way home for a toothbrush and all that.”

“Um …” She stalls. She may be looking for an excuse to avoid this, but my gut tells me she just doesn’t want to appear too eager.

“No pressure at all, but I’m sure Henry would be happy to see you.”

“I’d have to ask my grandparents.”

“That’s a change,” I tease, my voice dry.

She bites down on a smile as she taps on her phone screen. But she’s not texting Gayle and Howard. She’s opened up Instagram and, with quick fingers, she has my profile open. “You haven’t even launched yet and you have that many followers?” She holds up her phone, her eyes wide.

“That’s thanks to Zaheera and the team’s PR work, which is all stuff you should work into this project of yours.” Their influencer campaign has brought a steady drumbeat of new followers each day. Margo’s efforts seem to have paid off too. Dozens of the celebrity attendees at that party we made samples for have posted online, tagging us.

“Yeah, I think you’re gonna do okay, Abbi.” She snorts, as if my nervousness is silly.

“We’ll see.” I lift the wooden block of bars and carry it over to the packaging area.

Violet trails after me and watches as I wrap one in the simple brown paper packaging, binding it with twine. The round embossed label finishes it off.

“That’s simple.”

“It is. Henry helped me wrap bars once, after—” I cut myself off. No need to bring Scott into the day. “When I was running out of time. Here, try one.” I set a bar in front of her.

She watches me wrap another before slowly mimicking me.

“Perfect.”

She sets it aside. “You know, this feels suspiciously like free labor.”

“Or fair trade for my sage advice. Plus, I’m buying you a toothbrush and underwear. I can throw in dinner?”

Her lips twitch. “Weird. But it’s a deal.”

“After you call your grandparents and ask if it’s okay, right?”

“Right.” She digs out her phone again and wanders over to a corner, her voice quiet as she speaks to either Howard or Gayle. In moments, she’s back. “They’re cool with it.”

Unexpected giddiness bubbles inside me but I force it down and pretend this is no big deal. “Good.” I move on to the next soap bar. “So, what’s your business plan going to be for?”

She heaves a sigh, and the stress in that single sound is palpable. “Everyone’s doing trendy things like food trucks and coffee shops and tattoo parlors. The only thing I can think of is this.” She hesitates and then points to the beanie on her head.

I wide smile stretches across my face. “I think that is a fantastic business idea, and I’ll tell you why.”





I round the corner to find Violet staring up at the string of egg white dangling from the ceiling. Saturday morning’s sunlight streams in through the panoramic windows, highlighting the pancake powder spilled all over the kitchen.