“It is. One hundred percent.” The catering company arrived at eight a.m. to begin setting up. Hours later, the dining area has been transformed into a luxurious cave swathed in black—from the silk tablecloths and metal candlesticks to the matte cutlery and stoneware. Even the wineglasses are tinted ebony. The only hints of color come from tiny bronzed pumpkins and centerpieces spilling over with green moss. Elsewhere in the penthouse, candles wait to burn atop their candelabras and exotic floral arrangements grace end tables. When Sasha described the medley of black orchids, tulips, and calla lilies, I had no idea what to expect, but I was right to trust her.
That doesn’t mean I haven’t been questioning everything, every step of the way. “I’m sorry, Raj.” His patience with me must be thinning by now.
“You’re nervous about making a good first impression on Mr. Wolf’s friends.”
“No, I am really, really, really nervous about making a good first impression. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t travel in his circle.” I didn’t grow up in a city with a rich family, I didn’t go to private school. I have nothing in common with them. What if they hate me? What if they tell Henry he’s lost his damn mind marrying me, that they don’t approve of his choice of a wife?
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about. But in any case, Sasha’s company hosts the more exclusive parties in the city. They know their clientele, and they know what they’re doing.”
Given the price tag of this party, I should hope so. “What about the food?” The elaborate seven-course menu is printed on parchment and set at each guest’s seat. The chef and his staff have been working in the little catering kitchen all afternoon, the only hints that they’re in there the fragrant aroma of roasted meat and the odd clatter.
“Hors d’oeuvres are ready, and the tenderloin is in the oven. It will be a magazine-worthy night,” Raj assures me. “Everything is taken care of, and your guests will start arriving in less than an hour.”
“What?” I check the clock on the wall, the time escaping me. But he’s right. “Where’s Henry?”
“I wouldn’t worry about him.” Raj looks pointedly at my sweatpants.
“Right. I should do something about this.”
“You really should.”
I grin. “I’m sorry for being crazy. I’m meeting these guys for the first time, and I just want tonight to be—”
“Perfect, I know.” He smiles patiently. “And it will be, unless you start doing that.” He playfully swats my hand away from my freshly manicured nails.
“Thank you!” I sprint up the stairs and peel off my clothes. Waiting for me in a garment bag is a fitted black dress and stilettos Margo had couriered from a New York designer when I lamented that I didn’t know what to wear. I slip into the full outfit, including the shoes—in a pitiful attempt to break them in before tonight—and study myself in the full-length mirror, satisfied. As usual, she knows what will look good on me. I’m glad someone does.
Thankfully, I snuck away long enough this morning for a blowout, so my hair is sleek and smooth. I wish I’d hired someone to do my makeup. I’m still very much in the learning stages after a lifetime of embracing “a wholesome look” at Mama’s and Jed’s behest.
I still shake my head at all the ways I’ve been under my mother’s thumb. Aunt May is right—the sooner she learns that the days of having a say in how I live my life are over, the better for everyone involved.
My phone chirps with an incoming text as I’m about to tackle eyeshadow.
Ronan: A journalist is sniffing around. He’s looking for a story about you and the wolf.
I curse.
Abbi: Was it Luca?
I texted Ronan after that guy called.
Ronan: No. Frank. Or Hank. I can’t remember.
Seeing as there’s no Luca at the Tribune, maybe he’s dropping fake names.
Abbi: It could be the same guy. What’d you tell him?
My phone rings and Ronan’s name appears on the screen.
“I told him to suck my dick,” Ronan’s gravelly voice fills my ear before I can say hello.
I smile as I throw the call on speaker. Ronan isn’t intimidated by anyone, not even Henry, who could legitimately make his life hell. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.” His tone softens immediately. “I haven’t heard your voice in forever.”
“It’s only been a couple of weeks.” My cheeks flush with the reminder of the last time we saw each other, just before Ronan left Henry and me alone in the bedroom of Penthouse Cabin One. He said he’d never forget that night.