Okay. Super duper okay. So okay. Never mind my heart puking into my stomach, that's totally normal. Totally okay. Super fucking goddamn extremely fucking o-fucking-kay.
“A Malibu property requires my personal attention,” he stated as he stood up and began to pace her room. His voice was serious, his cadence clipped. She knew this Wulf, the all-business-all-the-time Wulf. The man she'd been getting to know was miles away. If she wanted to have any hope of ever seeing the other Wulf again, she had to let him go. She had to give him space.
“I understand,” she assured him in what she hoped was a calm voice. “Work is work. Go.”
His eyes cut to her.
“Most women like to say something is okay, when in reality, it's the least okay thing they can think of.”
“Lucky for you, I'm telling the truth. I'll see you when I get home,” she said it flippantly, as if she took it for granted they'd keep seeing each other. Maybe if she acted like it was no big deal, the moment they'd shared, then he would, too.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice soft.
“Are you leaving right now? Do you have time to eat?”
“I'm leaving now. I'll order a car for you for Friday.”
“Oh no,” she waved him away. “That's ridiculous.”
“I drove you down here. I'm leaving you stranded. I'll send a car.”
“Seriously, Wulf, it's fine. I'm a big girl, I can rent a car, or my mom can drive me, or I -”
“I'll send a fucking car, and when it shows up, you had better be here.”
Whoa. She wasn't sure that she'd ever heard Wulf angry before. For whatever reason, her getting home was a big deal to him. She nodded and took another deep breath.
“Okay, Wulf. Okay. Friday, whenever is fine.”
“Good.”
“Thank you.”
He'd been looking out a window. As she watched, he did an about face and strode towards her bedroom door. He was going to leave. That was it. No goodbye, no acknowledging what had happened between them. It was another moment, she could feel it, but not a good one. She stared at him as he moved, committing him to memory. Wulf always looked good, but his body was made to be in motion. When he got to the door, he yanked it open, then held still. Katya bit down on her lips.
“I'll be in touch, Tocci.”
Then he was through the door, slamming it shut behind him. She bent in half, pressing her forehead to her knees.
See? Ruined it. I completely, totally ruined it. Should've kept my mouth shut.
But she couldn't have, she knew. Even right then, when she was feeling hurt and sick and confused, her feelings for him were bursting out of her. Ripping her at the seams and tearing her apart.
Wulf had said he was good at deals, but apparently he'd never acquired a heart before. It was safe to assume that he didn't even know what to do with one. She would be his learning curve, and she had a feeling that it would be a very steep, very sharp one.
This is going to hurt like a bitch.
17
Wulfric Stone was not a stupid man. He'd gone to good schools, gotten excellent grades, excelled at everything he'd put his mind to – his bank account and his business accolades were proof.
But he could admit when he was acting stupid, and when it came to Katya Tocci, he'd been beyond stupid. Idiotic. Dense. Imbecilic. See? All those synonyms, and he'd thought of them on his own – a very smart man.
Yet rendered completely stupid by the mere presence of a former neighbor.
The first time he'd seen Katya, he'd thought to himself “wow, the girl next door really grew up”, and then he'd wondered exactly how much she'd grown. He hadn't paid any attention to her at all when she'd been a neighbor in Carmel. Now as a neighbor of sorts in San Francisco, she captured all his attention.
He'd been curious – Wulf was curious by nature. Always poking, always prodding. Always testing boundaries. How far would little Miss Tocci bend? Would she break? What all would she do for him? And for how long?
He'd expected her intoxicating mixture of naiveté and bold sexuality. Been ready for the way she'd responded so eagerly to him. Was happy at how easily she took commands and heeded demands.
What he hadn't been ready for, in any way, was her blinding honesty. Katya hadn't needed to confess how she was feeling – it shined out of her. She looked at him with such adoration. Such happiness, at simply being near him. Not his money. Not his power. Not his intelligence or connections or family name. Just him. Just Wulf.
But when the words weren't spoken, it was easier to ignore. To pretend he didn't notice any of it. How could he acknowledge any of it? It would have meant the end, and he wasn't finished yet. No, not by a long shot – not when there was so much more of her to be had.
Why the fuck had he gone home with her? Wulf never went home. He hadn't been home in years, not since Vieve had graduated – he'd made excuses for Brie's graduation, missing it entirely. Yet Katya Tocci drunkenly mentions that she's going home, and he cancels a weeks worth of meetings and takes the top off his car.
She's not the only one who had some words that needed to be said.
He couldn't say them, though. Was scared – yes, scared – to even whisper them to himself. To admit, out loud, that he cared about her. Very much. That way she looked at him … it meant everything. Somewhere along the line, he'd grown to depend on it. Need it.
Horrible. Needing something meant depending on it, and that he could not abide. That's all he'd thought about when he'd been curled around her, while she'd cried and slept. If he needed her, and she left him, he would be broken. He couldn't afford that, not the way he lived his life, not when there were people who depended on him to be whole and strong.
His mother had loved his father, very much. Wulf was pretty sure she still loved the man, and they hadn't spoken in years. The elder Mr. Stone had cheated on his wife, multiple times, before finally leaving her for a much younger woman. Wulf hadn't begrudged his father his happiness – if he needed to leave, then he had to go. Wulf would've been okay if it had been as simple as that, a man following his heart.
But it wasn't that simple, and what Wulf couldn't understand was why his father had to make it hurt so much. Why he'd rubbed the new relationship in his ex-wife's face. Why he'd tried to leave her destitute and penniless with two young girls, and a son who had a very expensive hobby.
It had broken his mother. He could remember thinking that very clearly, finding his mom hiding behind the couch, curled up in a ball and sobbing. She'd never returned to her old self. It had been Wulf who'd looked after his sisters for the first year, taking them to their soccer practices and ballet recitals. Eventually, his mother had bounced back, but still. It wasn't the same. Her smile never reached her eyes. She never so much as looked at another man. And she never, ever stopped working. Almost like she was afraid to stop.
That could not happen to Wulf. So he cut out the middle man. Remove the potential for heartache from his life, skip straight to working all the time, and never be afraid.