Roshana Mafi’s curvy body sways as she climbs the front stairs with purpose, the bellhop trailing along the ramp alongside her with her flamboyant zebra-print suitcase. She’s even more exotic than the picture in Belinda’s prepared file suggested. In that studio picture, she was posed, sitting prim and proper in a cobalt-blue suit, her shiny raven hair combed smooth, the white background only amplifying the rich bronzed tone of her skin.
Her hair is still shiny and smooth and her daring snow-white suit is still prim now, but with the wilderness as a backdrop and her large near-black eyes glossy with the crisp, fresh sea air, there’s a sexy wild quality to counter the polish.
I fist my hands to keep from wringing them together. I shouldn’t be nervous to meet her. I shouldn’t care at all. But, as far as Roshana Mafi and Luxury Travel magazine are concerned, I represent a part of Wolf Cove, and regardless of Henry and his brewing legal troubles, I don’t want to reflect poorly on this place. It’s a beautiful hotel and destination, and too many employees paid a lot of money to get themselves to Homer for a job. I’ve only been here for a few short weeks and I don’t want to think about leaving anytime soon.
But I’m guessing that once everyone finds out that I’ve been sleeping with my boss, I’m going to be on a plane back to Greenbank, Pennsylvania and my overbearing mama and that lying bastard, Jed.
I push that reality away for now and step forward, forcing a wide smile. “Miss Mafi?”
Her eyes roll over me, assessing the fitted plum skirt and white silk blouse that makes up my liaison uniform, before settling on my face. “That’s right.”
“Welcome to Wolf Cove. My name is Abbi and I’ll be escorting you to your—”
“Where is Henry?” Her voice carries one of those cool, naturally condescending tones that instantly puts me on edge.
“He was called away on an urgent matter but he asked me to tell you that he would connect with you as soon as he is able. He sends his apologies.”
She sniffs with displeasure but says nothing.
Is she unhappy because the owner wasn’t here to roll out the red carpet for her? Or is it because Henry wasn’t here to meet her? I noticed her use of his first name, but I was under the impression that Henry has never met her before. No doubt she’s done her research, as he has done his. Has the handsome billionaire caught this magazine writer’s eye?
Maybe she showed up at Wolf Cove with plans to do more than just write an article.
Did Henry write that private note with plans to do more than just provide her with quotable lines?
Is that why she’s staying in the penthouse cabin directly beside his?
“You can lead me to my suite any time now.”
“Right.” I push aside the conflicting burn of jealousy and force a wide smile, adjusting the blazer that Belinda handed to me this morning—a more professional look when receiving guests. “Please follow me.”
~ ~ ~
“Is this your first trip to Alaska?”
Roshana makes a sound that resembles a yes, though I can’t be sure. She barely said a word as I led her down the covered path and into her cabin. Truth be told, I’d rather listen to the wheels on the cart as the bellhop trails us than strike up conversation with this woman.
“Well, I’m sure you’re going to love it. Wolf Cove is magical.”
Her gaze flitters about the main room, taking in the vaulted ceilings and designer detail with lightning speed, her expression hard. It’s identical to Henry’s, decorated with a pleasing contract of creams, whites, and metal against wood, and nothing that anyone in their right mind could complain about.
“In the bedroom, please.” She waves indigo-blue-lacquered nails toward the bellhop, though he was already moving in that direction.
I head for the main desk phone, the closest one. “The Penthouse Cabin comes with your very own personal service staff. All you need to do is hit the button marked liaison”—I press the prominent button on the phone and not three seconds later, the servants’ door creaks open—“and Andy will make himself available to you.”
“Hello, Miss Mafi. It’s a pleasure to be of your service for your stay.” Andy, a tall and fit attractive blond guy with an Australian accent, flashes his brilliant dimpled smile. I was standing in the lobby next to him a half hour ago when Belinda told him to use that smile on his guest, no matter what time of day or night—and day or night is exactly when he’ll be holed up in those tiny servants’ quarters awaiting Roshana’s call, should she require it.
Roshana’s icy exterior softens for just a moment, just like Belinda quietly predicted it would at the sight of her personal servant.
“Michael will be arriving in about ten minutes to provide you with a full-body massage, compliments of Mr. Wolf. He’s Mr. Wolf’s personal masseuse.”
All I get is a slight nod in response.
“If there’s nothing else, I’ll leave Andy to give you a tour of your suite and walk through the itinerary prepared for you. It’s full of all the sightseeing and pampering that Wolf Cove has to offer.” Because I’d really like to get back to the quiet confines of Cabin One, where I can pace around the dining table and fret over our criminal boss in peace.
When Roshana says nothing, I take that as my cue to leave.
I’m halfway to the door when I hear her call out, “Tell your employer that I’m disappointed I wasn’t more of a priority for him.” She delivers that in an airy voice, but I know that it’s meant to be a warning. It’s supposed to send me running to Henry in a panic, for fear of an unflattering write-up in this magazine of hers.
But I for one know he had way bigger issues than a mediocre review. “Certainly. Until then, please accept his welcome note and his apologies.” I gesture to the arrangement of Siberian Phlox and Lupine wildflowers sitting on the dining table, wishing I could have snuck in here earlier to read the message he wrote to her.
I dart out the door before she can pass along any more threats, and rush toward Cabin One, my swipe card clutched tightly in my fist. I enter through the servants’ quarters as usual, because regardless of how freely I move through the suite once I’m inside, I need to keep up appearances for anyone outside.
“For fuck sakes! I will not let her destroy my life. Just do what needs to be done, God dammit!”
