I lean against the doorframe of the bathroom. “Was that Dyson, earlier?” I woke up to the sound of Henry’s deep voice carrying from the living room.
“Yes.” Henry drags the razorblade across his foamed cheek. It leaves a fresh, clean line of smooth skin. “The police are involved now.”
“Good.” I wrap my arms around my chest, hugging Henry’s t-shirt that I slipped on to my body, reveling in the smell of it. It smells like him. “What do you think they’re going to do?”
“Pull the video surveillance from my dad’s place and Scott’s, for starters.” With smooth precision, he shaves the stubble across his throat. “And likely from the club. Try and get more details about that fight.”
“That won’t prove anything though, will it?”
“It’ll prove motive. They’ll also question Becky more thoroughly than they did that night.”
“Do you really think she could have given the pills to him?”
“Maybe. Though she doesn’t seem the type.”
I think back to the blubbering blonde at the funeral. If she has a murderous bone in her body, she hid it well.
Finished with shaving, Henry rinses his razor in the sink and sets it on its stand before turning to face me, giving me a full view of his chest and abs. He must have worked out this morning before I got up; his body looks tighter. “What exactly did you hear him say, the day of the funeral?”
“I can’t remember exactly, but your mom did ask about the mine. She sounded worried and he told her not to be. That nothing would happen, or something like that.”
Henry’s jaw tenses as he ponders that. “My dad obviously told him his intentions to take Wolf Gold away from him, but he was legitimately shocked when the will was read.”
“He could have been faking.”
“I know Scott. That reaction was genuine. Which means my dad must have told him he was going to do it, not that he already had.” Henry sighs. “My dad… he enjoyed delivering threats. Scott must have assumed that’s what that day was about—threatening him. And that my dad hadn’t actually done anything with the will yet.”
I think back to the phone conversation I overheard between Henry and William, when I was still Henry’s assistant and Henry was facing criminal charges and a lawsuit over Kiera. William threatened to give the hotel to Scott and banish Henry to the gold mines. He was certainly good at delivering that threat.
“Did he say anything else?” Henry asks.
I think back. “Your mom was pushing him to go after the hotel, but it sounded like there was something in the mine that he wanted. Something that would….” My words drift.
“Something that would what?” Henry presses.
I hesitate. “Would make you look like a chump.”
“What the fuck are you up to, Scott,” he mumbles, his arms folding over his chest, his gaze piercing the Berber rug with thought.
Despite the topic, I can’t help but admire his body, desperately willing the towel that’s wrapped around his waist to slip off and let me see more of it.
Unfortunately it stays firmly in place.
“I’m heading into the office.”
“And you’re leaving for Spain tomorrow?” I ask, trying to keep the disappointment from my voice.
“What?” He frowns. “No. I’m not going anywhere while this investigation is going on.”
“Really?” I tamper my excitement. It’s not right to be excited. I head into his dressing room to fish out socks and briefs for him, but really to hide my smile.
His footfalls sound against the carpet behind me. “I can’t be on the other side of the world. I need to be right here, breathing down the detectives’ necks to get answers.”
“Makes sense.”
There’s a long pause. “Will you stay with me?”
I look over my shoulder at his waiting gaze. “If that’s what you want.” Mama’s not going to be happy, but Henry needs me. Besides, I have a bone to pick with her over that book. Wait until Daddy and Aunt May hear about that.
A slight sigh—maybe of relief?—escapes him. “I’ll leave you the passcodes to my home computer so you can get work done. I think Zaheera is waiting for some answers from you about the website?”
I glare at him. “How do you know about what she’s waiting on me for?” I told her I’d get back to her three days ago with the preliminary design feedback, but then I got caught up in coming to New York.
“Because I’m blind copied on all your emails.”
“What?” I let out a sigh of frustration. “I told you to stop interfering!”
“And I have.” He closes the distance to collect his socks and briefs from my hands. “But I won’t stop making sure they bust their asses for you. Or give you advice when I think you need it. Unless you don’t want my advice.” There’s only soft sincerity in his voice.
“No, it’s okay. I do.” I’d be an idiot not to want to learn from Henry, and to have his protection. Speaking of which…. “Hey, what do you know about Tami Newman’s kickstarter company?”
“I know that Tami Newman has a kickstarter company. Why?” He slips his towel off and hangs it on the towel rack by the entrance to the bathroom, and my eyes linger on his perfect bare backside, distracted.
“Uh… because we were talking about my company last night at dinner and she gave me her card. She told me to call her—”
“No.”
My eyebrows pop at the sudden severity in his voice “No?”
“No. You are not having Tami Newman or anyone else back you. That means giving up control and you’re not doing that.” He pulls up his briefs, sliding his hand down the front to adjust himself. “Besides, you already have the start-up money.”
I should have known. “Henry—”
“I’m not arguing about this, Abigail.” He picks through a rack of dress shirts. “You have me to help you. You don’t need anyone else.”
“But then it’s just you backing me instead of someone else. How is that different?”
“Because I’m not staking any claims, and not expecting any cut of the profit. It’s 100 percent yours.”
“But the money is—”
“An interest-free loan with no strings attached. You can pay it back when you earn out. Or not, I don’t care.” He turns to settle his intense gaze on me. “You count on me to give you everything you need, because I can and I want to. I take care of you.” A little more softly, he adds, “And you take care of me. That’s how we will work. Okay?”
“Okay.” I swallow against any lingering objections and wander over to pluck a pale blue shirt for him. “I like this one.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. It makes your eyes pop.”
He sighs, and smooths my hair back off my face. “I know you’re not with me for my money, Abbi.”
“I’m not with you for your money,” I confirm, leaning into him, reveling in the heat from his skin, to lay a trail of kisses along his collarbone. On impulse, I slip a hand down into the front of his briefs. “I’m with you for this.”
His deep chuckle warms me from the inside out.
~ ~ ~
“I need more!” Margo exclaims, so loudly that I have to hold the phone away from my ear. “I am hosting a party next weekend and there will be many influential people there. I want to give them to everyone as gifts.”
“Um… okay.” Margo’s enthusiasm is palpable. Excitement courses through my limbs. “How many were you thinking? Another dozen or so?”
“Two hundred.”
I burst out laughing. “Margo, I can’t make enough for two hundred people for next weekend! I need ingredients and supplies and… I’m just one person! Plus, I’m in New York, at Henry’s.”
“Why. Is his kitchen not big enough?”
“No, it is,” I concede, as my eyes roam over the cupboards. The kitchen island alone is twice the size of the tack room.
“Then you must make them! And then you will fly to L.A. and attend my party. Henry will come, too.”
Just jump in a plane and fly to L.A. for the weekend. How has this become my life? “That sounds amazing, Margo. But I don’t know if that will happen right now. Henry has… a lot going on.” Not that I don’t trust Margo with the truth, but it’s not my place to tell anyone of our suspicions about Scott. “He might not be able to leave New York for a while.”
“We shall see.” She says it lightly, as if she’s already sure the answer will be a favorable one. I’m guessing she’s going to phone him as soon as she gets off the phone with me. “But you will make the soaps, yes?”
I sigh. My gut says this is a huge opportunity. If Henry were a part of this conversation, he’d tell me to commit. And it’s not like I have much else to do, with Henry gone all day. But it means buying pans and ingredients, and getting packaging. Not that it’s very complicated packaging, but still, it required a printer. “Let me talk to Zaheera first, before I say yes.”
“Bon! This will be magnifique!”
~ ~ ~
Raj’s deep brown eyes are wide as he stands on the opposite side of the monstrous kitchen island and takes in the heaps of dirty pots and pans, and the rows of freshly poured molds.
“I swear. I’ll clean it all up!” I cross my fingers across my chest where my heart is, and hold my breath that Henry’s housekeeper doesn’t quit on the spot. I’ve met him a handful of times already, so he’s likely figured out that Henry and I are in a relationship, but we’ve never actually talked.
“No, miss. It’s no problem. I was just surprised to see anyone cooking in here. But it’s… it’s….” He struggles to find words while staying professional. Finally he sheds the cordial persona. “What the hell are you making in here?”
I chuckle. “Soap.”
“Soap?”
“Yes. Soap.” I hold out one of the wrappers that Zaheera sent over.
“Farm Girl Co,” he reads out loud.
“It’s my company.” It sounds odd to say that.
Raj leans in to smell the row of lemon bars I just finished. “That is… lovely.”
“Thank you. It’s one of my favorites. Anyway, a friend asked me to make some for her. I normally work from my kitchen back home but Henry said I could use his.” He demanded that I use it after I suggested that I could go back to Greenbank for a few days. He also demanded that I rush order as many supplies as I need and charge it to his credit card.
Raj’s gaze roams the table. “So these are all for your friend?”
“For her party. She needs two hundred by next Friday. I know,” I quickly add when Raj’s eyes widen again. “I’m crazy for agreeing. But I did, so now I have to get these done, even if it means not sleeping.”
“Then I shall let you get to it.” He nods toward his arms, loaded with Henry’s dry cleaning. “And I must get to my work.”
“Oh, by the way, I ran a load of towels and things through the wash already. They should be almost dry now.”
A small but genuine smile touches his normally serious face. “Mr. Wolf mentioned that a lady friend would be staying here when he is in town. You are not at all what I expected.”
“You’re not the first person to say that.”
“That is not a bad thing.” His gaze takes in the stack of pots in the sink. “Allow me to put some of the laundry away, and then I will come and help wash some of these dishes for you.” He disappears down the hall.
I heave a sigh, taking in the mess. When Margo said she wanted soap for two hundred people, she actually meant three different scented soaps for each person. Six hundred bars. I thought Zaheera was going to tell me to go to hell when I asked for the packaging, but the courier arrived forty-eight hours later with boxes of it.
I’ve been working tirelessly for days, since the first shipment of supplies showed up at Henry’s doorstep.
I only have seventy-five more to go. And then there’s putting them together, of course. But I should be able to get it done in time to courier to her.
My phone rings and my heart skips two beats as it always does when I see Henry’s name on the screen. “Hey,” I croon softly, unable to hide my goofy grin, even if he can’t see it. “You know, I blame you for introducing me to that crazy Frenchwoman,” I joke, stirring the pot of melted glycerin.
“Are you almost finished?”
“Soon. You know, I could get used to working in this kitchen.”
“Not if you’re going to be selling your products commercially.”
I roll my eyes. “So you saw that email, too.” He runs a multibillion-dollar business, but of course he manages to keep up with the messages from Zaheera about my rinky-dink business. The latest included a list of regulation-approved production kitchens, because apparently if I want to sell my products to anyone beyond church ladies and visitors at our Greenbank farmers’ market stand, they have to be made under certain conditions. “All of those places are around New Jersey.”
“Which is close to Manhattan, Abbi,” he says calmly.
“I don’t live in Manhattan, Henry.”
There’s a long pause, and I hear muffled voices in the background, as if Henry’s put his hand over the receiver.
“So, what’s happening on your end, anyway?” Henry doesn’t often call me during the day, too wrapped up in meetings and problems. “Are you still going to be home for seven?” I glance at the clock to see that it’s five minutes to. Dinner should be here any minute.
“No. I’m meeting with the estate lawyers again.” There’s an edge to his tone that I hadn’t caught before.
My hand stills from stirring. “What’s going on?”
“Becky broke under questioning. She admitted to drugging my father.”
“Oh my God! You’re kidding me!” Becky killed William Wolf? “Did she know about his heart condition?”
“No. But Scott did, and guess who Becky’s been fucking for the past few weeks, while she was also fucking my father?”
I feel my face twist up with disgust.
“And guess who came home from the golf club the day he found out he was going to lose Wolf Gold and called up Becky to tell her he wanted to marry her?”
“No….”
“And guess who convinced Becky to slip three crushed pills into my father’s drink without him knowing that same night, so that his last night with her before she left him would be beyond memorable?” Henry’s tone is laced with bitterness. “After my dad died, she called Scott in a panic and he told her that if she said a word about the pills, he’d say she stole them from him and she’d go to jail for murder.”
“From him? Does that mean—”
“Scott’s dick hasn’t been working for a while now. He’s definitely not a Wolf.” Henry snorts, a poor guise for the emotions that must be rolling through him right now.
This is too much. I have to lean on the counter for support. We were right. “So… what happens now?”
“The police have issued a warrant for his arrest. They haven’t been able to find him, though.”
Oh my God. “Stay far away from him, Henry. I don’t trust him not to hurt you, too.”
“Relax. Dyson has four security guards standing outside my door. Of course, that’s more about keeping me from hunting down Scott to kill him than him coming after me.”
I’ll have to thank Dyson for having that foresight. “Okay. Well… we can talk more tonight. I’m so sorry, Henry.”
His sigh caresses my ear. “Right now I just want to get home to you.”
“Hurry,” I say softly, my body aching to lie next to his. “I ordered pasta for us, so it’ll be easy to reheat when you come home.”
“I’ll call you when I know what’s going on.” The line goes dead. I instantly miss him.
With a sigh, I try to turn my attention back to the melted pot of glycerin.
From the corner of my eye, I notice the figure. I let out a yelp of surprise when I turn to see Scott standing near the kitchen entrance, his arms folded over his chest, quietly watching me.
“I doubt this kitchen has ever been used before.” Scott saunters in, his gaze taking in the island.
“How did you get in here?”
“I’m Henry’s brother, remember?” Scott smiles, but it looks like a sneer. “Was that him you were just talking to?”
“Yes.” I glance to my phone, sitting a few feet away.
Scott reaches out to stick a finger into the top of a semisolid lavender bar, leaving an indent. “You couldn’t just leave it alone, could you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I think you do.” He has the same icy tone that Henry sometimes does. It’s ten times more sinister coming from Scott though, especially now that I know what he’s capable of. And his eyes are glossy. I can’t tell if it’s from alcohol or drugs, but Scott is definitely on something. “I think you’ve been telling him things. Things about what you might have overheard.” Like a predator edging in, he moves slowly around the island, toward me.
I instinctively step back, putting distance between us. “I’d be more worried about what Becky is telling the police right now. They’re looking for you.” I try to sound confident, but my voice holds a tremble.
“So I’ve heard. It sounds like Henry’s going to get what he’s always wanted, which is me gone.”
“He didn’t do this. You did.”
Scott gives the pot of glycerin a stir. “You know, it seems like ever since you stepped into my brother’s life, I’ve been getting fucked over.”
“I’ve had nothing to do with any of that.” I covertly reach for my phone. Could I get to the bathroom in time? I can call security.
“Do you know what it feels like to have someone fuck with your life?”
“Actually, I do. Remember? You fucked with my life, back when you made me think Henry was sleeping with that news reporter. You broke Henry and me up.”
“If you hadn’t been lying in the first place, none of it would have mattered.” Another step forward. “I can’t stop wondering what it is about you that has my brother so sunk.” A wicked smile curls his lips as his cold gaze slithers down my body. “I think I should find out.”
I bolt for the bathroom as a bloodcurdling scream escapes my lungs.
I make it four steps before his stocky body plows into me and I’m tackled to the floor, the wind knocked out of me. He covers my mouth with his hand before I can regain my breath and scream again. My heartbeat pounds in my ears.
“That callous bastard has already taken everything from me,” Scott hisses into my ear. “So I figured I’d take something of his. Something important.”
I squirm under his weight, fighting to break free. But he’s far too heavy and strong.
“What exactly do you do for him, anyway?” Adrenaline courses through my limbs as his free hand slips under my t-shirt to roughly cup my breast. “I’ll bet he likes these. Fuck, no wonder.” His fingers dig under the lace of my bra to grope my flesh
I pull my lips apart and bite down hard, sinking my teeth into his fleshy finger.
“You fucking bitch!” he howls as the taste of copper touches my tongue.
I manage one scream before he grabs the back of my head and slams my forehead against the hardwood. Agonizing pain explodes between my eyes and I struggle to regain clarity. I’m only vaguely aware of Scott tugging my leggings down. “I’m going to love telling that asshole how good it felt to shove my dick inside you. By the time I’m done, he’ll never want to touch—”
There’s a loud thump and then Scott suddenly grows still, his threats silenced.
A moment later, his body is rolling off me.
I scramble across the floor on all fours to get away from him, while struggling to pull my leggings up
“Miss Abbi?”
Raj stands over Scott, the handle of a heavy-bottomed pan gripped within his fist, fear and shock filling his face.
I let out a shaky cry of relief. I’d forgotten he was here.
We both stare at Scott’s unmoving body, waiting for a twitch, a stir. Something to tell us we should run.
But after a minute of nothing, a new wariness settles in.“Raj, how hard did you hit him?”
“Hard. Very very hard,” he admits, his light Indian accent ringing with worry. He crouches down next to Scott, to press two fingertips to his throat where a pulse would be.
His caramel complexion pales.
