“Mr. Wolf pays me well for not only my services but my discretion. These people think they can wave dollar bills and get whatever they want. That is not the case. At least, not with me. And some things do not need to see headlines. It is enough that it ended the way it did.” Raj wipes the counter of a few errant crumbs. “So, tell me about this Momzilla problem of yours.”
I savor my coffee as I download on Raj. It turns out, Henry’s housekeeper is an excellent listener. By the time he’s heading to collect Henry’s clothes for dry cleaning, we’ve devised a plan of attack to deal with Mama that I think—I hope—will work.
I’m reaching for my phone to message Henry when it rings with an incoming call from an unknown number.
“Hello?” I answer warily.
“Abbi! Hey! Congratulations on the engagement!”
“Uh … Thanks.” I frown, the man’s voice unfamiliar. “Who is this?”
“It’s Luca, from the Tribune.”
A newspaper reporter. Great. “How did you get this number?”
“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
While avoiding mine, apparently. My wariness grows. “Actually, I need to—”
“With Henry’s grandparents, father, and brother dead, and mother long since estranged, the entire Wolf empire sits on his shoulders. He must be feeling especially lonely these days. Could that explain the hasty proposal?”
“It wasn’t hasty,” I blurt without thinking.
“You’ve only known each other since May, though.”
“Well, I mean, yes, it was fast. But he gave it thought,” I stammer. Hasty is a terrible word. It sounds rushed and poorly considered.
It sounds like a mistake.
“So you’re not worried he’ll regret it and break off the engagement?”
“I … no?” Should I be?
“You’re his assistant, correct?”
“Was. I haven’t worked for him for months.” I wish the papers would get that part right, at least.
I hear a page flip. “According to sources, your romantic relationship began while you were working as Henry Wolf’s assistant at the Wolf Alaska location, despite a strict corporate policy against it. Is that correct?”
Henry and I figured this question might arise. Now that his father is gone and Henry owns the hotel, it no longer matters, but I know it’ll bother him if his reputation is dragged.
This Luca guy said he has sources. “Who told you that?” Belinda and Ronan know, but neither of them would stoop so low as to sell me out to a reporter.
“My sources wish to remain anonymous. Are you confirming it?”
“No!” Jed knows Henry and I started long before I came home from Alaska. He would definitely spill under questioning. I’m going to strangle him if he fed information to this guy.
“So, you’re denying it, then.”
“No, I’m …” I’m flustered, is what I am. Who is this guy, what is his angle, and why am I still entertaining his questions? “I have somewhere I need to be—”
“Tell me about your coworkers … Connor Brien and Ronan Lyle.”
My stomach drops at the sudden change in topic and to where it’s landed. “What about them?”
“How would you describe the nature of your relationship with them?”
An alarm bell goes off. “They’re friends.” Why is he asking? What does he know?
Luca hums like he doesn’t believe me, and I can hear his pen scribbling something. “Sources say your friendship with Ronan Lyle was of a far more intimate nature. If Henry Wolf were to find out about your other partners, would this impact your engagement to him?”
Oh, believe me, he knows. I swallow. “Ronan and I have always been just friends.” Friends who have fucked, but that is none of anyone’s business.
“What about Michael Stern, Henry’s private massage therapist? How would you describe your relationship with him?”
The biggest mistake of my life. I press my hand against my stomach to calm my nerves. This is too specific to be an idle rumor. It’s obvious this Luca guy has been digging for dirt on me, but who is throwing him bones to fetch? And why does it feel like he’s on a mission, firing off question after invasive question to try to trip me up?
If details about my Alaskan escapades get blasted in the newspapers …
If my parents and all of Greenbank read about it …
At least I haven’t hidden anything from Henry. But who at Wolf Cove has been airing my dirty laundry?