Own Me (The Wolf Hotel, #5)

Miles snorts. “Yeah, that’s one way to look at it. ’Kay. Gotta go.”

I flip through the wedding invitation samples while I wait for Miles to forward the jeweler’s info. Jill sent me a box to choose from. With Raj’s help, I narrowed it down to four favorites, but no matter how long I stare at them, I can’t seem to choose. I sent pictures of them to Henry, but I already know he won’t be much help.

My phone rings, and I double-blink at Violet’s name on the screen. This is unexpected. “Hello?”

“Uh … Hi, Abbi? I hope you don’t mind me calling …” Her voice trails.

“Of course not. What’s up? Is everything okay?” My mind immediately goes to problems. Is there an issue with the house? Did something happen to Howard or Gayle?

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Um … the painters are at the house. They’re covering everything in gray. It’s … blah.”

“Blah gray! I know that one well. I have it in my new commercial kitchen.” It was there when we took possession and it seemed pointless to spend money painting it. “It’s boring, but it’ll help sell the place.”

“Yeah, that’s what Tony said.”

“How is he?” Henry said Alex sent his best Philly agent to them.

“Yeah, he’s okay. Gramps likes him.”

“Well, that’s important.” Silence hangs over the phone for a few long beats. I wonder if she’s heard from Henry, but I don’t ask. There must be a reason for this call.

“So, I have this project for school. We have to design a business with, like, a whole plan.”

“That sounds like a big project.”

“Yeah, it’s thirty percent of my grade and I’m kind of behind on it, because of my mom and all that. Anyway, do you think I could ask you some questions?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You said you had a company, right? Soap or something?”

“Yeah, I do, but …” I falter. “You know, Henry would be the better person to ask.” If anyone understands the business world, it’s him.

There’s a long pause and then, “You know what, it’s okay. I’ll find someone else—”

“No, no! It’s fine. I can help you with this. Or try, at least.” This is Henry’s daughter. She’s going to be my stepdaughter, a reality I haven’t wrapped my head around yet. The fact that she’s coming to me—that she hasn’t written me off as her father’s much younger fiancée—is something. “How much do you have done already?”

“Um … well, it’s kind of hard to say.”

I see where this is going. “You haven’t started yet, have you?”

“Define start.” I don’t know her well, but I’m sure there is a sheepish smile behind that voice.

“And when’s it due?”

“The first half, on Monday?”

I flop back in my chair. How am I supposed to fit this in? It’s already Thursday and I’ll be in this kitchen all weekend, preparing for next week’s launch. But it doesn’t sound like Violet has time to spare.

“I have tomorrow off school,” Violet says, as if that fixes everything. “I could take the train in and meet you somewhere?”

I don’t have time to meet her in the city, but I want to make this work. An idea strikes me. “Why doesn’t Victor pick you up and bring you to my office? You can spend the day with me and learn about what I’m doing.” We spend a few minutes planning and by the time we end the call, I feel like I might be able to help her.

But I’m still overwhelmed. “Come on, Miles!” I rest my forehead on my desk. I’m desperate to mark something off this stupid checklist.

A knock sounds.

“Come in!” I roll my head toward the door.

It creaks open and Annie pokes her curly blond head in. She winces when she sees me. “Hey, the photographer is here for that PR campaign?”

“What photog—oh my God.” The photo shoot. “I totally forgot. How did I forget I had that?”

“’Cause you have a lot on your plate right now?”

My phone chirps with the jewelry contact info from Miles, as if to punctuate Annie’s point. “Okay, can you tell him I’ll be there in five minutes? Ten at most. I need to make this call first.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll get him to start setting up.”

“Thank you.” I afford my new assistant a tired smile. She’s a twenty-five-year-old college graduate and the last one I interviewed. We clicked right away. She, too, grew up on a farm in Pennsylvania with an overbearing parent—though, in her case, it’s her father. She started on Monday and already I don’t know how I’d live without her. “Can I ask your opinion on something?”

She cocks her head. “Sure. Shoot.”

I hold up the four invitation samples. “If you had to choose one of these for your wedding, which would you pick?”

She bites her bottom lip as her green eyes—magnified behind glasses—shift back and forth, scrutinizing them. “Definitely the second one. It’s modern but timeless.”

“That was Raj’s first choice too.”

“I don’t know who Raj is, but he sounds smart.” She grins.

“Definitely. I’ll be out in a minute.” I take a picture of it and text it to Jill. One down. With a sigh, I dial the jeweler.





It’s dark and well past normal dinner hours by the time Victor pulls up to the lobby doors of Wolf Tower. “Thank you for the ride.” Will I ever get used to having a driver take me anywhere I want to go?

Victor meets my eyes through the rearview mirror. “You’re welcome, Ms. Mitchell. We’ll see you in the morning?”

“Bright and early.” I slip out of the car, offering the doorman a smile before I stroll through the revolving doors and into the lobby. After hours on my feet, all I want is a long, hot bath.

Every single employee greets me as I pass. I wish I knew all their names.

“Ms. Mitchell,” Sullivan calls out, his enormous frame eating up space as he closes in on me. “I was asked to give you this.” He hands me a folded note.

I frown, wariness creeping in. “From whom?”

“Didn’t say. But he’s upstairs in Lux, waiting for you.”

I gingerly unfold the paper.

And a thrill runs through me.





Ronan engulfs me in his broad arms, pulling me against his chest in a hug.

I inhale the familiar mixture of sandalwood and Marlboro cigarettes that every single one of his shirts smells of. “What are you doing here!” We texted this morning and he asked what I had going on tonight, but he always does that. “You never said you were coming to New York!”

“Thought I’d surprise you.” His deep, raspy voice warms my ears, bringing me back to countless nights under Alaska’s starry sky, laughing at his and Connor’s antics. As happy as I am, occasionally I catch myself reminiscing about a moment here or there and feeling an ache for a special time of my life, gone.

“I am floored, so you win.” With one last squeeze, I pull away and look up into those haunting green eyes of his. “You look good.” Casual, as always, in blue jeans and a plain charcoal shirt—long-sleeved, on account of the cooler weather, and clinging to his lean, sculpted body. His dark hair is buzzed as short as I remember it being. “I was going to call you this weekend.”

“Sure you were,” he teases.

“I was!” I give his biceps a playful smack. “Time just kind of got away from me.”