Own Me (The Wolf Hotel, #5)

Owner of artisanal Farm Girl Soap Co. start-up and assistant to Wolf Hotels billionaire Henry Wolf has had a busy summer, snagging the interest of her rich boss (despite the corporate policy against fraternization). But when the boss was away making those big bucks, the assistant played, falling into the arms and beds of several coworkers, including Wolf’s personal masseuse and several hotel grounds workers. The question is, will Henry Wolf go through with the wedding now that we’ve uncovered his bride-to-be’s dark secrets?

“Who even wrote this trash?” I mutter, more to myself. There aren’t any blatant claims of my infidelity. Just a lot of choice words that make me look like a gold-digging whore and Henry look like a clueless sucker.

“These were taken from corporate property. They belong to me. Some asshole has clearly sold them to this shit mag!” Henry roars into his phone as he paces. Dyson is surely on the other side of that line. “I want the full list of every fucking security guard on staff this summer, and who was working the night of the grand opening. Get it from Belinda. Find out where they live, their contact information. I’m going to make whoever did this pay!”

I haven’t seen Henry this agitated since the night at the golf club when we discovered Scott had been lying about having seen William before he died.

Violet watches. What must she think of her father in this light?

“And this Ben Shaw? Who is he?” Henry barely listens before barking, “Find out!”

Here I was just two days ago, thinking that snooping reporter didn’t unearth what he was digging for. But he had a bigger aim than releasing it on some hot-take celebrity scandal website that feeds a thousand clickbait offshoots. Not that those sites haven’t jumped in to ride the magazine’s coattails. I’ve already received texts from Autumn and half of Greenbank.

“How bad is it?” Violet whispers.

“Oh, you know, they’ve made it sound like I’m a habitual cheater, that I’ve been running around, humping every male’s leg I can get near.” Tears prick my eyes. Mama called twice and texted three times, but I’m avoiding her. Her judgment is the last thing I can deal with.

“But it’s not true.”

I avert my gaze because the reality is, there are many truths buried in this reputation-destroying smear campaign. “Does it matter? Enough people will believe it. I’m already getting DMs and comments on Farm Girl’s social media.”

Her face screws up. “Already?”

“Yup.” Got my first “you slut” comment about an hour ago, before I even knew this article existed, and they’re trickling in, gaining momentum. Everything from whore to stupid, plus a few comments directed at Henry.

“Dump her cheating ass, Wolf. I would never cheat on you.”

“Her loss, our gain.”

Annie texted to ask how I’d like to handle it.

I have no damn clue.

Violet bites her fingernail. “Don’t people have anything better to do?”

“Clearly not.”

My phone rings with a call from Ronan. I answer in a rush. “I’m so sorry you’re getting dragged into this.” I sent him screenshots of the magazine as soon as the initial shock wore off.

“I’m not getting dragged into anything. And don’t fucking apologize to me, Red.” He sounds annoyed. “Is Wolf with you?”

“He’s here.” And pacing while spitting out orders. “He’s pissed.”

“No shit.” Ronan chuckles, but it’s a mirthless sound. “I guarantee you it was either Corbin or Mark who sold those pics to the press. Those fuckers kept tabs on everything going on. Corbin has a hard-on for the boss. He’s obsessed.”

I vaguely recall those names and something about a Henry shrine. “In security?”

“Yeah. Mark was Aspen’s roommate.”

Oh no … “Mark knew about Michael.” He was there the morning after I hooked up with Michael. He also knew that Henry didn’t sleep with Roshana and her friend that night, that Henry left and Roshana dragged in Andy—another of Mark and Michael’s roommates.

Henry ends his call and offers me a curious “Who are you talking to” frown.

“Hey, Ronan, I’ve gotta go—”

“I’m flying back to New York. Be there by tonight,” he says.

“No, don’t be crazy. You’re visiting your family.”

“Shut up, Red. I’ll see you soon.” The line goes dead before I can object.

“What did he want?” There’s no small hint of annoyance in Henry’s tone.

The moment I relay the two security guard names, Henry’s on his phone, barking orders again.

My phone chirped while I was talking to Ronan. I check my texts to see another link from Autumn. Doing my best to steel my nerve, I click on it. “You’re kidding me!” The online edition of the magazine shared a picture from last Thursday night, of Ronan and me at our table in Lux, the moment he seized my foot in his hands when I teasingly kicked him.

It was innocent. Nothing. And yet it could easily look like something, especially when it’s coupled with a subhead that reads, “Henry Wolf’s Fiancée Seen Out With Love Interest While Future Husband and Boss in Spain.”

And suddenly it clicks.

“Oh my god.”

“What is it now?” Henry asks, dread heavy in his voice.

“Roshana Mafi is behind this.” Of course, it makes sense.

“That travel magazine journalist?” Henry’s face tightens. “Why would she bother with all this?”

“Because you turned her down and then threatened her if she took out her anger through her article on Wolf Cove. From what I’ve heard, she didn’t take your rejection kindly.” If what Andy relayed was true, Henry told her he was seeing someone, and she claimed to have had the better fuck the night before with Scott. “She was at Lux on Thursday night and then this shows up?” I hold up my phone for him to see.

His teeth grind.

“Roshana came by, pretending not to know how she knows me, but she’s fully aware that you and I are engaged.” Little bits of that conversation click into place. “I told her you were in Spain. She kept calling me your assistant after I corrected her and then told me to enjoy my weekend, as if she knew this article was going to drop. And then this picture releases? This is all too coincidental.”

“Fuck, you might be right.” Henry sighs heavily. “This is about her resentment for me, Abbi, not you.”

“And yet I’m the one wearing the scarlet letter on my forehead!” I knew my misdeeds would come back to bite me.

He reaches for his phone again. “Roshana Mafi, a reporter for Luxury Travel Magazine. Find out how she’s connected to Ben Shaw.” He’s oddly calm compared to five minutes ago.

“Who’s he talking to now?” Violet whispers.

“Still Dyson. That’s his fix-it lawyer. They’re going to be doing this all day. I’m so sorry, Violet. Things are not going as I hoped.” What that hope was, I can’t say, beyond Henry getting to know his daughter. “You don’t have to stay. If you want to get your things, I’ll ask Victor to drive you home.”

“It’s fine.” Violet waves me off. “I still have this assignment to do, anyway. I might have questions.”

I falter. “Are you saying you want to stay for this disaster?”

She shrugs. “Yeah, I mean, if you don’t mind. And if the angry man doesn’t care.”

“The angry man will be on the phone demanding heads for the next few hours.”

“Oh, I can help with that! I’ve been practicing.” Violet takes a deep breath and declares in a shrill, slightly British accent, “Off with their heads!”

Henry pauses midconversation to frown at his daughter.

Despite everything, I laugh.