It’s been buried under a heap of lust for Henry. The idea of spending the next four months working and sleeping with this man is enough for me right now, as shocking as that is for me to admit to myself.

“Will you get into trouble?”

His smile slips off. “Once the Wolf chain is officially handed over to me, no one is going to tell me that I can’t fuck you.”

“When is that supposed to happen?”

“June 30 is the official date. Just around the corner. Until then, no one can know.” He reaches up to cup my left breast, full and overflowing in his grasp, a “goddamn” slipping out under his breath.

He glances at his watch and then silences any possible next words with a peck on my cheek. Grabbing his suit jacket from a nearby chair, he heads for the door. “I’ll text you later.” His feet slow. “Don’t take anything I say or do while we’re outside these walls personally. Okay? I don’t mean any of it.”

I nod.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“We’ll have the photo ops done here. It should be good lighting at that time of day, with the view.” Belinda waves her manicured fingers toward the right side of the ballroom’s wall of windows. “That should happen between four and five, before people get too far into the open bar.”

The room is half set up with cocktail tables and clusters of lounge chairs, and a small stage for an orchestra on the left of the photography stage. It sounds like a ferry’s worth of flowers is being brought in to fill every empty space of this grand room within two days’ time.

“Abbi, you’re getting all of this, right?” Henry snaps. He doesn’t even glance in my direction.

“Yes, Mr. Wolf,” I mumble, my head bowed and my focus on my iPad, reminding myself of his words this morning before he left. This is what he meant about not taking anything personally. His tone with me has been sharp and his words clipped, since I met him for the staff meeting earlier. They’ve carried through to the grand opening planning checkpoints that have followed.

It must be working, because Belinda has barely given me a glance today. She must be convinced that Henry would rather fire me than sleep with me.

But everything has changed.

“We have everything under control. The Wolf men just need to show up, smile, and look sharp, and everything will go smoothly,” she purrs.

I’m going to meet Henry’s father. I wonder what he’s like in person.

“Great,” Henry murmurs, checking his watch.

“What time is the photography session this afternoon, again?” Belinda asks Henry, though her raised brow is directed at me.

“Uh...” I frown, pulling out my calendar. Photography session?

“You got my message, didn’t you? I sent it at seven this morning.”

At seven this morning I was splayed out on Henry’s desk with his face between my legs. I swallow, struggling to keep my cheeks from flaming. “I don’t know how I missed it.”

“World Hotel is here to do a spread on Mr. Wolf this afternoon and you missed my message?” She glances at her watch. “It’s already noon!”

“Enough. What is this about?” Henry asks irritably.

“They want three hours of your time to take some pictures around the hotel and out in the Alaskan wild at one o’clock this afternoon,” I explain, reading out the top line of Belinda’s e-mail for the first time. Somehow I skipped over it. “For a feature as one of the most eligible bachelors in the world.” I keep my expression smooth, hiding my disdain.

“Three hours?” he mutters, and I know this isn’t an act; he’s truly annoyed. “I don’t have three hours.”

“You’ll have to make it. It’s important for business,” Belinda admonishes.

“How is me being a bachelor important for the hotel?”

“Because everyone reads those kinds of articles.”

“Why is this so last-minute?”

“Because an opportunity came up and I made the executive decision as the hotel manager to take it!” I can’t believe she has the nerve to speak to him like that.

He shakes his head. “Wardrobe changes and all, I’m guessing?”

“They asked for three, including a suit. We have an hour. It’s okay, we can make this work,” I pipe in. I feel like such an ass for missing this email.

“Fuck, I hate these things.” He begins to pace. “I never know what to wear.”

“Don’t worry. I know how to dress you,” Belinda offers, and jealousy spikes deep within me.

He’s punching something into his phone as he talks. “You’re my hotel manager. You need to be here. That’s why I have Abbi.”

“Abbi.” Belinda gives him an “are you serious” glare.

“She’s done a good enough job so far.”

I’d like to shoot Belinda a snooty glare, but I settle on keeping my head down and hiding my smug smile of satisfaction.

She heaves a frustrated sigh. “Fine. I need you for a few more minutes and then you should go...”

Belinda’s words drift into the background as my phone vibrates in my hand. I check it to see a text from Henry.

You wouldn’t mind undressing me and helping me choose a few things to wear, right?

My heart begins to race. I press my lips together to keep from smiling, as I type in:

If I must, though it is a chore.

Are we already at the playful texting stage? This is moving fast. But I guess that’s what happens when you’re confined to a remote hotel in the Alaskan wilderness and acting out on primitive needs. That’s all we’re doing, I remind myself. I can’t let my dreams get painted with jet-setting and a trip down the aisle. Or even a real relationship.

Henry is responding to something else Belinda asked as he types, his tone all business.

Another message comes through.

I can still taste you coming in my mouth.

My notebook and iPad slip from my suddenly shaky grasp and land on the floor, earning Belinda’s annoyed glare. Mouthing an “I’m sorry,” I dare a glance Henry’s way.

His steely mask is firmly in place, as usual. “Is there anything else, Belinda? Because I have to go smile for three hours in front of a camera, thanks to you.”

She clears her throat. “That’s all for now. Abbi, I hope you at least remembered to have his tux ready?”

There’s that tone again. I could let it bother me, but I don’t because I’m the one who gets to dress—and undress—Henry. “Yup.” I let my gaze skate over his strong stature. That man in a tux...

Belinda leads the way and I follow, sensing the ghost of warm fingertips at the small of my back.

~ ~ ~ ~

“The Tom Ford.”

I grab the suit off the hook and lay it out on the bed, hollering, “How about the gold tie?”

“Sure.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I watch him drag the razor over the curve of his jaw. He’s fresh from yet another shower and wrapped in a towel, and the sight is making my pulse pump hard in my veins. But the playful text from earlier seems to have slipped from his mind. He’s all business now.

“Where else do they want to go?”

I scan the forwarded e-mail. “It says ‘maybe a few on the docks with the planes, a quick trip around the cove on his private boat, and, if possible, some wilderness’.”

“No wardrobe requirements?”

“‘More casual’ is all it says. So...” My mouth twists with thought as my fingers push through the various items hanging in his closet. All expensive, designer, high-thread-count clothing. He looked hot that day in the woods, cutting wood. And the day I watched him get off the plane. He could make a pair of sweatpants look sexy, to be honest.

I pull out a pair of dark blue jeans and black crew-neck sweater, along with a yellow-and-black checkered coat, similar to the red one he normally wears. I finish it off with his beanie.

He sidles up beside me with a smirk. “You want me to dress as a lumberjack?”

“I don’t know.” I giggle nervously, collecting the jacket to put it back on the hook. “You should have had Belinda do this for you. I don’t know what I’m doing.”