Wolf Surrender (Wolf Cove Book 4) Read online

  WOLF SURRENDER

  Wolf Cove, Book Four

  By Nina West

  Copyright 2017 Nina West

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Editing by Hot Tree Editing

  Cover design by Nina West

  Published by Nina West

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Other Books By Nina West

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  The horizon is glowing with a faint pink hue as I step through the patio doors and take in the view of the Manhattan skyline, my eyes still half-closed thanks to terrible jet lag. It’s promising another stifling hot day. “Record-breaking,” according to the news. Thankfully, we missed the worst of it yesterday, our flight from France not arriving at the airfield until late in the evening.

  I stroll around the rooftop pool—pristinely clean and so inviting—to the lounge chair where Henry is stretched out, wearing only his briefs, a glass of Scotch in hand, the half-finished bottle sitting on the concrete next to him. “Come to bed,” I say softly, perching on the edge of the chair. “Get a few hours of sleep before the day has to start.” It’s 5:00 a.m. Henry has a meeting with the funeral director at ten to discuss arrangements for his father.

  And he’s drunk.

  It’s a long moment before his steely blue eyes break their lock on the sky to regard me, slowly drifting over the silky white sheet that I hug to my naked body. There’s no hunger in that gaze though. “He was supposed to die of cancer, not while fucking a twenty-five-year-old,” he murmurs, his attention drifting away again, to the city skyline this time.

  When Henry shared the details about the cause of William Wolf’s heart attack, I hadn’t known what to say. It still feels like an awkward topic. “Did he have heart issues?”

  “He had blood pressure problems, but he was taking medication for that. It was under control.”

  “And he was still feeling well?”

  “As far as I know. He hadn’t mentioned anything otherwise to me. And Scott said he hadn’t talked to him all week.”

  I smooth my hand up and down Henry’s muscular arm soothingly, fighting the natural urge for my fingers to wander over his bare flesh, memorizing each perfect curve. “Life isn’t always fair.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, of all the ways to go.... Just not yet,” he mutters bitterly.

  “How is the girl?” I can’t even imagine what it’d be like to have the man you’re having sex with die in the middle of it.

  “Hysterical that night, but I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  “Did she know him well?”

  Henry chuckles darkly. “Depends on your definition of ‘well.’ He’d been fucking her for a few weeks. She thought she was in love. Scott says she wasn’t the brightest light bulb in the pack.” He takes a sip. “Good for my dad.”

  “How old was he, again?”

  “Sixty-three.” He says that with a slight slur. I’ve never heard Henry slur, but then again he did crack this bottle of Scotch the second we walked through the door.

  “He looked good for sixty-three.” And dying of cancer. Granted, I only met him that one time, in Alaska for the grand opening of the Wolf hotel in Wolf Cove, and that was months ago.

  Henry sighs. “When he told me about the diagnosis, he said he couldn’t really complain, considering all the luck he’d been born into. He was bound to come up short somewhere. That was his logic.”

  All that luck he’d been born into.... A gold mine and the luxurious global Wolf hotel chain that has made Henry’s family more money than they know what to do with. “It sounds like he had made peace with it, at least.”

  “He did. And I was getting there. I thought I had another few years with him. And then this happens.” Henry’s voice turns husky. “First my grandparents. Now him. He was all I had left and he’s gone, just like that.”

  There’s no point reminding Henry that he still has a brother, because Scott Wolf is a lecherous snake and not someone either of us wants around. And then there’s his mother, but Henry’s been estranged from her for almost twenty years, and it doesn’t sound like there’s any desire to reconcile there.

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “You have me. I know it’s not the same, but I’m here, whenever you need me. However you need me.” I slide the glass out of his hand. “And maybe we should ease up on the Scotch for now.”

  Henry gives me one of those hard, unreadable stares for one... two... three seconds, and my stomach instinctively tightens, afraid of what dark thoughts might be churning inside that head of his.

  And then he chuckles. It’s a bitter sound. “You’re right. I should save some for you. You’ll be needing it more than I will....”

  That’s not the first time he’s made comments about how the next few days will be an ordeal for me, which makes me more than a little nervous. I’ve already met—and now hate—his brother, who played a role in breaking us up with his lies and manipulation. But that was back when I was Henry’s assistant and we had to hide our relationship from everyone, including Henry’s father.

  I no longer work for Wolf Hotels, and William Wolf is dead.

  Abruptly, Henry leans in to grip the back of my head and plant a hard kiss on my mouth, the sweet, smoky taste of liquor on his breath. I half expect him to yank off my sheet and take me right here under the morning sky, but he pulls away just as quickly. Climbing out of the chair, he throws his arms above his head in a stretch. And then pushes his briefs off his hips, letting them tumble to the concrete. He’s a little unsteady on his feet as he stalks to the edge of the pool, without so much as a glance around for onlookers. We’re some eighty stories up in the Wolf Tower penthouse and it’s still early enough that there likely aren’t spectators in the few equally tall buildings around.

  Not that Henry would give a damn if there were.

  He smoothly dives in, sending a small splash in the air before emerging on the opposite side of the pool to grip the edge while thrusting a hand through his wavy chestnut-brown hair, pushing it back off his face. I consider dropping my sheet and climbing in after him, but then he begins swimming laps, his sculpted body moving swiftly and powerfully through the water.

  And so I sit and quietly admire the indomitable Henry Wolf as the sun climbs the horizon beyond.

  Wondering what fresh hell the next few days will bring.

  ~ ~ ~

  I try not to fuss with the hemline of my dress as we step through the main doors of the funeral home. It’s a modest black shift dress that I picked up at Saks yesterday, thinking it would be appropriate for the visitation. It, along with a pair of classic black pumps with a price tag that made me choke, complete the understated look I was going for. Still, I
tried my best to look like I belong next to Henry, fussing with my makeup and hair for almost two hours.

  Meanwhile Henry stands tall and sharply dressed—as usual—in a tailored black suit and tie. And matching socks, that I chose for him while he showered. “Ready?”

  “Are you?” I peer up at his handsome face—a face that ensnares females of all ages instantly, I know because I’ve watched it happen from the sidelines countless times—and take in the steely mask. It’s been firmly affixed since he swam some fifty laps in his pool and sobered up. That was the only time I’ve seen him let go of control. Since then, he’s been in and out of the penthouse, but mostly out, splitting his time between the Wolf head office and making arrangements for his dad’s burial. All business as usual, his emotions hidden from everyone.

  Including me.

  But I haven’t pushed him to talk. I figure he’ll talk when he’s ready.

  He slides a hand over the small of my back. I can feel the heat of it through the light material of my dress. With a heavy swallow, he leads me down the hall of the opulent funeral home in the heart of Manhattan.

  Visitation hours don’t begin for another twenty minutes, and yet there is already a stream of people of all ages milling about the entrance doors to Promenade Hall, where William Wolf’s body awaits. I shouldn’t be surprised. News of his sudden death made the New York Times.

  Countless eyes veer our way as we approach, and my stomach twists with nerves. Most are watching the powerful mogul beside me, but more than a few curious onlookers are sizing me up.

  “He knew a lot of people,” I murmur, just loud enough for Henry to hear, as my cheeks begin to burn from the attention.

  “There will be a lot of Wolf employees here today to pay their respects. Plus business associates and media.” Henry offers a reserved smile and nod to a middle-aged couple closest to us as we pass.

  “What do you want me to say if they ask how I knew your father?” A question I should have asked him before climbing out of the limo.

  “The truth. That you didn’t know him at all, but you know his son very well.”

  “Is that a good idea?”

  “Of course it is.” Henry looks down at me, his eyebrow spiking with annoyance that I’m even questioning him.

  “I’m just not sure you’ve thought this through.” While we haven’t been hiding our relationship, we have been keeping it low-key. But with a room full of Wolf employees, plus media, news of the woman striding in with “one of the world’s most eligible bachelors,” according to many—his ex-assistant—will spread like wildfire. Is Henry ready for that?

  Am I?

  “I’m quite sure that I have.” The slightest smirk touches Henry’s lips as he slips his strong, calloused hand into mine and leads me through the throng of watchful gazes to the set of heavy oak doors being manned by a solemn attendant.

  I can’t help the giddiness that surges through my limbs with this simple action, despite our surroundings. I know Henry. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t have serious intentions about me.

  The doors close behind us with an ominous thud, sealing us inside the hall with William Wolf’s body.

  And Scott Wolf.

  My tiny thrill vanishes instantly as I spot Henry’s older brother standing at the far end of the cavernous room, where an elaborately carved wood coffin sits on a brass stand, surrounded by at least fifty elaborate bouquets—everything from the typical funeral white lilies to arrays of colorful sunflowers.

  I fully expected Scott to be here and yet I can’t help the visceral reaction at the sight of him. I haven’t seen him in months, since the day he stormed out of Penthouse One at Wolf Cove, bleeding from several well-deserved punches delivered by Henry’s fist.

  Scott turns to watch us approach now, his gray-blue eyes widening at the sight of me by Henry’s side.

  “Huh,” Henry murmurs.

  “What?”

  “I was sure he would have heard about you by now.” There’s amusement in his tone.

  Unfortunately I can’t match his joy as I watch Scott’s face—not nearly as chiseled or handsome as Henry’s—harden with the knowledge that he was duped.

  Henry must sense my trepidation. He hand squeezes mine once in a sign of comfort. “Scott, you remember Abbi Mitchell.”

  “How could I forget?” An easy—fake—smile curls Scott’s thin lips. “You’re a better liar than I gave you credit for, Abigail.”

  I’m assuming he’s talking about the day he cornered me in an elevator and tried to manipulate me into admitting that Henry was screwing me, his assistant, in the midst of legal issues over screwing his last assistant. While he failed at that, he did manage to plant such toxic seeds of doubt and outright lies about Henry that I convinced myself that Henry was sleeping with other women. It was without doubt the worst day of my life. A thousand times worse than the day I walked in on Jed cheating on me.

  I clear my throat. There are so many things I’d like to say to this asshole—hell, I’d like to pick up that giant bouquet of white roses behind him and smash the heavy-looking white clay vase over his head—but this is not the time or place for vengeance. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  His eyes shift to Henry. He isn’t so adept at hiding the anger in them as his brother. “You son of a bitch.”

  “Now, now....”

  “You have the nerve to bring your whore to his funeral?”

  All amusement slips from Henry’s face. “Call her that again, and you’ll be joining Dad in that box,” he warns, ice in his tone.

  But Scott isn’t so easily deterred. “You lied right to his face about fucking her.”

  “I told him about Abbi before he died. My conscience is clean. How’s yours?”

  I feel my own eyes widen with surprise now, as my attention veers to the left, to where the distinguished man lies. Still regal, even as a corpse. I didn’t know Henry had told his dad about us.

  Scott’s eyes narrow as he regards his brother for a long moment, as if trying to read something between his words. “You lied right to Dad’s face and yet I’m the one who took all the heat.”

  Henry releases my hand and steps forward. He’s easily six inches taller than his brother, and now he towers over him. “You took heat from Dad because you tried to have me framed for rape so you could take over Wolf Hotels,” he hisses through gritted teeth, his fists clenched at his side, looking ready to punch Scott again.

  “I was just making sure Dad knew what kind of man his precious boy really is,” Scott throws back, puffing out his chest to compensate for their size difference.

  “A man who will run the family business with integrity?” Henry takes a step forward until they’re toe-to-toe. Scott refuses to give ground. “Who has no problems keeping the women in his life satisfied? Who’s always honest with them?”

  The two Wolf men have somehow managed to fill this cavernous hall with tension. I’m torn between jumping between them to stall the explosion, and hiding behind the casket to avoid the shrapnel.

  The door behind us creaks open and a man in a suit passes through. “Excuse me, but the crowd outside is quite large. Would you mind if we begin moving people in now to help clear the lobby? If everyone is ready?” He sounds skeptical. He must sense the impending doom in the air.

  “Yes, we’re ready. Thank you.” Henry takes a deep breath and then two steps back, muttering under his breath to Scott, “Stay the fuck away from us.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. Belinda, Wolf Cove’s general manager and a woman who seems to know the Wolf men well, once commented on how Henry and Scott can’t be in a room for more than five minutes without erupting.

  Now I understand.

  It’s going to be a long three hours.

  ~ ~ ~

  I settle a hand on Henry’s shoulder, grabbing his attention before the next well-wisher steps up. “I’m going to get you water. I’ll be back in a sec.” We’ve been standing in this same spot, to the left of the casket,
for two and a half hours now, greeting countless people. All strangers to me, though I smile and accept their condolences as if I’m a part of the family, because what else am I supposed to do, standing next to Henry?

  “Thank you,” he answers, his voice hoarse from talking.

  I edge my way through the crowd, happy to be moving my legs, though my feet throb from these heels. Thankfully, Scott has stayed on the other side of William Wolf’s body, some distance away and suitably occupied by visitors and unable to cause more problems. Right now he’s consoling a sobbing Becky, the woman William was with the night he died. The woman is everything I would expect of a rich older man like William, and yet at the same time not. She’s stunningly beautiful and young, with evenly tanned skin, plump red lips and high cheekbones, and an hourglass figure. I’m 90 percent certain her waist-length platinum blonde hair is the result of high-end extensions.

  She is the reason William apparently took a Viagra pill the night he died, something the preliminary autopsy report revealed. Henry threw a glass across the living room to hit the wall and shatter into a hundred pieces when he found out. William knew he couldn’t take those pills because of his blood pressure issues, Henry said. But he must have taken one anyway, the need to enjoy his twenty-five-year-old plaything outweighing the dangers. He obviously didn’t expect the consequences to be so severe.

  I find a service area outside the hall, near the lobby, stocked with carafes of hot coffee and tea, along with a fridge full of cold beverages. I fish out two bottles of cold water, cracking one for myself and taking a big gulp.

  “Is working for Mr.Wolf always so chaotic?” Miles asks from behind me, making me jump.

  I offer Henry’s assistant a sympathetic smile through my swallow. “Yes. It is.”

  He heaves a sigh and takes a sip of water from his own bottle, only to catch a dribble as it escapes his mouth and runs down his chin. “You’d think he’d slow down, with all this going on.” He gestures toward the visitation room. “But the guy’s actually working harder.”