Own Me （The Wolf Hotel, #5）
K.A. Tucker
CHAPTER 1
“And were any of them trapped in that mine?” Henry’s jaw is tense as he paces around the plane, knuckles white from his grip on his phone. “Let me help you with that answer, Mick. No, they weren’t. They were in their beds with their high-priced escorts sucking their dicks—”
I wince. Whichever corporate lawyer Mick is, he can’t be enjoying this tongue-lashing.
“If I want suggestions from the board on how to manage my company, I’ll ask!” He ends the call and tosses the phone onto an empty seat.
“Everything okay?” I dare ask.
“Yes,” he snaps, then sighs, as if catching his temper. He pushes his hands through his thick mane of chestnut-brown hair, revealing the small scrape he earned in the mine collapse. His only injury, thankfully. “Just Scott still trying to fuck me from his grave.”
Mention of his conspiring, murderous brother has me reaching for my forehead, where bruises still linger from my last run-in with him. Scott has already almost succeeded in taking Henry from me once, thanks to that old mine he’d been funneling company money into, unbeknownst to everyone. Henry made a terrible mistake going into it. He could’ve died in there.
What else has Scott done?
Henry sees my reaction and the anger radiating from him dissolves instantly. He settles into the cream leather seat across from me and pitches forward, collecting my hand. “He can’t hurt either of us anymore.” He kisses my knuckles, his beautiful blue eyes catching the engagement ring he slipped on this morning. The gold band is thin, the pearl centerpiece perfectly round with an iridescent luster, surrounded by a cluster of tiny diamonds. It’s simple, and nothing like one might expect from the owner of Wolf Enterprise. It was his grandmother’s ring.
Who knew the hard-nosed billionaire tycoon who once intimidated me would be so sentimental?
I smile. I did. At least, I figured it out somewhere along the way to falling madly in love with him.
And now Henry Wolf is all mine.
He leans into his seat and rests his head, showing off a protruding Adam’s apple and that delicious cleft in his chin. Absent is the tailored suit I’ve grown accustomed to seeing him in. Today, he chose dark blue jeans and a soft charcoal gray cashmere shirt that hugs his powerful torso in all the right places.
While I can’t decide which version of Henry I love more, this casual one always gets my blood flowing, especially when his legs are splayed, drawing my attention to a part of him that has brought me so much pleasure over these past months.
“I was thinking about this meeting with Margo’s Nordstrom friend next week.”
“Yeah?” My eyes divert from their intent focus.
Henry is smirking at me. His hand slides to rest on his thigh, his fingers drumming inches away from the prize. “What are you thinking about, Abbi?” His eyebrow arches. “Being full last night?”
My cheeks flush upon mention of our depraved evening. Never would I have expected Henry to share me with another man—let alone Ronan. I can still feel both of them deep inside me. “What about the meeting?” I ask, steering the conversation away from one I’d never want anyone overhearing.
His knowing gaze lingers on me for another few beats before relenting in his teasing. He opens his mouth but then stalls. “Are you nervous about meeting with this buyer?”
“Terrified,” I admit with a laugh. “Like, come on! I make homemade soaps in my parents’ barn using herbs from their garden, wrap them in plastic, and sell them at the Christmas bazaar and the farmers’ market. I don’t know the first thing about this whole big business world. I’m going to make a fool of myself. I don’t even understand what a buyer does.”
Margo wasn’t much help when I asked her. “She chooses all the wonderful things they carry in store!” she exclaimed with glee. But when I asked how and why this Nordstrom buyer chooses what she does, Margo winked and said, “As long as she picks your wonderful thing, what does it matter?” A predictable answer from the enigmatic supermodel who has people falling at her perfect, beautiful feet wherever she goes.
“I can help prep you if you want.” Henry’s lips twist in thought. “But it might not be the right move for you.”
“What do you mean? It’s Nordstrom.” Where’s he going with this?
“This is your company, Abbi. Your brand. No one else’s. You get to call the shots. But do you want my opinion?”