Own Me (The Wolf Hotel, #5)

Damn it, Mama. “We are not getting married in Greenbank.”

“Well, I must say that is a relief. It is a cute barn on a cute farm, but you two are meant for something far grander. Maybe my place? It could be the unveiling of Wolf Hotel’s newest boutique hotel, if your fiancé would commit to me already.”

I laugh. Margo is nothing if not relentless about her dream to turn her family’s old French castle into a Wolf chain hotel. “We’re getting married in Alaska next spring, before the hotel opens for the season.” The most important place in the world to Henry and now to me.

She makes an exasperated sound. “I suppose that place will also do. Now, if you are to marry in spring, that does not leave Emmanuelle Agard much time. We will meet with her when she is in New York in a few weeks.”

“Emmanuelle Agard? Who is that?”

Margo’s laughter fills my ear. “Oh, my sweet Abigail. You are precious. She is only one of the most sought-after dress designers in the world. She must be booked at least three years in advance and only takes on a handful of clients each year. It is a good thing that one of your dearest friends is also one of her dearest friends.”

“You don’t have to pull strings for me.”

“Too late. They are already pulled! She has agreed to make you the most beautiful dress of the year. Un pièce de résistance. Far too nice to get married in the woods with wild animals, if you ask me, but nobody is.”

I shake my head. “Thank you, Margo.” She’s always playing the role of master puppeteer, with nothing to gain out of it for herself.

“What are friends for! Now, I must run. My manager has called me three times to inform me that I am terribly late for a meeting.” Unhurried heels click on tile in the background. “Oh! Before I forget, has Sandra reached out to you yet?”

The buyer from Nordstrom. A knot forms in my stomach with the worry of disappointing Margo after all the effort she’s put in on that front, but I slept on Henry’s words and he’s right. I need to take control. “She left a voicemail.” I hesitate, but then decide it’s best to get this all out in the open. “Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me behind this, Margo, really … but I need to hit the brakes. Not forever, but for now. I still have school, and now the wedding, and everything is moving so fast. I’m going to start with a limited run of soap ahead of the holidays.” I end my declaration with a wince. “You’re not angry, are you?”

“Me? Angry with you?” She tsks. “Oh Abigail, you never need to worry about that, and you do not need to apologize. Sometimes I get overzealous, but I am only trying to help in any way I can. Sandra can wait until you are ready, and I will make sure everyone knows about your launch.”

I smile at the ceiling. “You are such a good friend.”

“I could be a much better one if that possessive fiancé of yours would allow it.” Her musical laughter rings out. “I will see you in a few weeks.”





I hear rustling in the kitchen and round the corner to find Henry’s housekeeper unloading groceries onto the counter. “Raj!”

The middle-aged man looks up from his task and smiles. “Miss Abbi, it is so good to see you again—oh!” He chuckles as I launch into him with a hug. “I was not expecting that.” After a beat, he encloses his arms around me.

I take my time pulling away to meet his big brown eyes. “How are you doing?” The man barely knew me and yet saved me from Scott, but in doing so now has to live with the knowledge that he killed a man.

He hesitates, examining the spot where Scott dropped to the floor and did not get back up. “Better each day, thank you for asking. And you? You seem to be healing well.” His gaze flitters to my forehead.

“I am. Honestly, I haven’t had much time to think about it with everything else.”

“I saw the news about the mine. I’m so glad to see you both here and well. Now you can have a few days of quiet.”

“I was hoping for a few years?”

He snorts, a brief break from his professional persona. “Wouldn’t that be nice.” A moment of silence hangs between us before he seems to snap out of it. “I went for a shop, but I don’t know your preferences yet. If there’s anything specific you need, just ask, and I’ll be more than happy to run out for it.” He stoops and pulls out a new cast-iron frying pan from the drawer. “A replacement.”

I wince. “Looks heavier.”

“Oh, it is.” He smacks his free palm against the bottom of it. “Does Mr. Wolf have any more brothers we need to worry about?”

I chuckle, though it’s a morbid and terrible joke. “Not that I’m aware of.” Maybe a niece, but I can’t see her being a danger to either of us. Besides, the way she ran out of here yesterday, I don’t know that we’ll ever see her again.

He starts loading the fridge. “Have you eaten? Can I make you something for breakfast? Here, let me get your coffee started.” He’s flipping buttons before I have a chance to answer.

“You don’t need to wait on me,” I call out over the buzz of the fancy Italian espresso machine.

“Mr. Wolf has asked that I come every day to meet your needs, now that you’re living here.”

“He didn’t need to do that.”

Raj’s brow furrows. “Will my presence here be an issue for you? Because I can speak to Mr. Wolf—”

“No, of course not.” I hold up my hands in surrender, afraid I’ve offended him. “I just mean I’m self-sufficient. I didn’t grow up with all this—” I wave around me. “You’re going to be bored if you’re relying on me to keep you busy.”

“One can never be bored with good company.” He winks before setting a full mug of coffee in front of me, followed by cream and sugar.

“Thank you.” I fix my drink, noting how Raj watches intently, no doubt mentally measuring how much of each I put in so he can make it for me next time. It’s going to take me a long time to get used to this new life.

My phone chirps and my stomach tenses as I see the name pop up. What now, Mama?

Mama: Look what Celeste found among her dress patterns! She’ll sew them for your bridesmaids. Connie and Stephanie have already sent their measurements and I’ve found the perfect fabric.

I click on the attached picture. Sure enough, it looks like something Celeste Enderbey would sew—chaste and cotton, circa 1985. “Stop it!” I wail, scrolling to the spool of green-and-white gingham fabric. Mama’s favorite.

“Is something the matter, Miss Abbi?” Raj asks.

“Yes, actually.” I groan with exasperation. “You know what you can help me with, Raj? Tell me how to deal with a Momzilla who is trying to hijack every single element of my wedding.”

He cocks his head, his hand collecting mine to study the ring on my finger. “Mr. Wolf neglected to mention that bit of news.”

“Oh.” I flush. “It just happened yesterday.”

A bright smile fills his face as he squeezes my hand. “Congratulations are in order, then.”