Own Me (The Wolf Hotel, #5)

Preston hands a glass to his date before accepting one for himself. “This is Kendra’s first trip to New York.”

“I’m excited.” She lifts her glass in a toast, showing off the delicate tattoo on the inside of her wrist of three intertwined hearts.

“And the suite they put you in?” Henry asks. “I asked Miles to arrange something adequate. I hope it’s to your satisfaction.”

“Oh yes, it’s lovely, isn’t it, Preston?” She trails a finger along his biceps, a subtle sign of affection that he doesn’t react to.

“It’ll do.” Preston tastes the concoction, pauses, and then takes another sip.

A wave of relief washes over me. One day maybe I’ll feel like I fit into this lifestyle, okay with dropping thousands on a catered dinner party. Or maybe I won’t care to seek approval. Today is not that day.

I take a large gulp of my drink, hoping the alcohol will calm my frazzled nerves.

“We’re two floors down, between Merrick’s and Warner’s rooms. They’ve checked in already.” Preston peers over his shoulder. “They should be here any second.”

“Preston said you own this hotel?” Kendra’s bright cornflower-blue eyes shimmer with interest on Henry. She’s gorgeous. I can see why she caught the finance tycoon’s interest.

“Did he now?” Henry smirks at his friend. “He’s being modest on my behalf. I own all Wolf hotels.”

Preston’s head tips back with his booming laughter. “Now who’s the arrogant prick?”

“Still you. Always you.” Henry slaps Preston’s back.

My heart swells as I watch the playful exchange. That edge Henry always wears has vanished, replaced by an easygoing nature I’ve not seen before. Even in the early days, when I was Henry’s assistant taking notes while he charmed executives, I didn’t know him at all, but I sensed an air of performance.

Maybe a night with his childhood friends is all Henry needs.

Commotion stirs at the doorway and two more men stroll in.

“Good Lord,” I mutter under my breath.

Not quietly enough, apparently, because Henry spears me with an exasperated look.

What? I mouth and shrug, even as my cheeks flush. Seriously, what kind of boarding school produced a group of men that look like this?

A swell of hellos, jeers, and laughter bursts in the penthouse.

The taller man on the left—the one with a short beard and lush brown hair that cascades to his shoulders in loose curls—reaches Henry first, embracing him much like Preston did. He mumbles something next to Henry’s ear that I don’t catch, but his expression is morose.

Condolences, for all that Henry’s been through lately, if I had to guess.

Henry pats his shoulder as he steps away. “Warner, Abigail. Abigail, this is Warner.”

I don’t bother correcting his use of my full name as I offer my hand to the man, all while admiring his tanned, olive skin and deep brown irises.

Warner answers by collecting my fingers and lifting my hand to his lips to kiss my knuckles.

“Not even a wife yet and the Latin lover is already making his move.” Preston shakes his head. “And where is … Tatiana, is it?”

Warner waves off his friend’s question with an absent “She’ll be here when she’s ready.” As if he doesn’t care one way or another if his date arrives.

Behind Warner is a man with a chiseled jaw and cropped dark ash-blond hair. His lean, muscular body, clad in all black, moves gracefully toward us. This is obviously Merrick.

“How was the Australian Outback?” Henry asks, clasping hands with him.

“Got lost and almost died. Other than that, fantastic.” Merrick’s voice is deep, his tone cool. His face barely cracks a smile as he peers at me. “So you’re the one.” It’s not a question.

Something peculiar lingers in his crystal blue eyes. I can’t explain the look, but I wouldn’t call it warm or friendly. I can see what Henry meant when he said Merrick is hard to read.

“That’s right. Your hopes of playing with Wolf’s cock are officially coming to an end,” Preston proclaims.

“You mean playing with it again,” chirps Warner.

My jaw drops. Wait? Are they saying … I asked Henry point-blank if he’d ever been with a man and he told me no. Did he lie, or is this just these two tormenting their friend with typical dumb male jokes?

“Thanks for that. Just couldn’t fucking help yourselves.” Henry grumbles, “Idiots.”

Idiots who are handing me questions I’ll need answers to later. He better not have lied. He should know by now that I wouldn’t care if he had experimented with a man.

Merrick ignores them, holding up the two garment bags draped over his arm. “These are for you two.” If anything, he sounds bored.

Our costumes. Finally. I reach for them—

Henry swiftly grabs the bags as my fingers graze the fabric. “Everyone, please make yourselves comfortable. Enjoy the view.”

I watch him climb the stairs, likely to hide the costumes out of my reach. “Damn it.” I was so close.

“He won’t tell you what you’re going as, will he.” Merrick accepts a drink from the server before she moves toward the living room where the others are heading.

“No, or anything about this secret party we’re going to. It’s been giving me anxiety all week,” I admit sheepishly. The more I think about it, the more nervous I get. If these guys fly in for it every year, something tells me it won’t be like any party I’ve been to before.

That earns Merrick’s smile, and it is a striking one, showing off deep, boyish dimples that soften his initial edge. “It’s a good time. There’s a different theme every year and specific requirements for costumes. It’s very exclusive, invite-only, with lots of security. They don’t even disclose the location until an hour before the event begins.”

“Yeah, he told me all that.” Merrick is talkative, at least, and that cool, bored tone is evaporating. “And the theme this year is …?”

“Ask Henry,” he answers without missing a beat.

I roll my eyes, earning his laugh.

“If it makes you feel better, the guys don’t know who they’re going as either.”

“How is anyone okay with this?”

“That’s part of the fun.” He sips on the themed cocktail, his full lips lingering on the glass.

He has a beautiful mouth. Has it been on any part of Henry?

I give my head a shake. Focus, Abbi. “But you know what they’re going as.”

“I arranged all the costumes, so yes, I know,” he says, a hint of teasing in his deep voice. “But don’t bother trying to get it out of me.”

“Can you at least tell me if it’s a weird couple thing?” I ask.

“Weird couple thing?”

“You know … Bonnie and Clyde, Gomez and Morticia. Mickey and Mallory?”

Merrick shakes his head.

“Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf?”

“They were a couple?” He frowns. “That’s not the nursery rhyme my mother told me. Look, I wish I could help you out, but I can’t. Wolf will kill me.”

“At least give me a hint?” I stare up at his handsome face. “Just a tiny hint?”

He studies my features intently. “Red and gold.”