Wolf Bait (Wolf Cove #1) (11 page)

I glance over my shoulder to find him watching me quietly from his truck. That stare, it’s almost... wolfish.

Chapter Ten

“Fifth floor needs ten more corkscrews and shoe polish kits!” Shelley, one of the room service supervisors, hollers. “Can you ladies bring those up? Last request, then you can go get your uniforms and call it a day. Promise.”

“Sure thing,” Tillie answers for us, strolling past me to grab the corkscrews from the supply bin against the wall to our left. All the major staples—bottle openers, extra pens, batteries, adapters for foreigners, the special custom-made Wolf Hotel branded chocolates—are sorted there for easy access. “Maybe you should carry these, with those broken arms and all.” She winks and dumps the corkscrews into my appreciative hands.

I guess being in Chicago all year has softened my muscles, because only hours later—albeit long, arduous hours of shuttling extra pillows, towels, and hair dryers all over the hotel and, yes, wrestling with bed sheets—my arms are aching something fierce.

I’m exhausted. All I want to do is curl up in my little bed, and as soon as I’m able, that’s exactly what I’ll be doing.

“That’s what you get for disappearing into the woods with Mr. Wolf,” Tillie hisses as we head toward the staff elevator.

I spear her with a warning glare. Tillie’s the only one who knows who I left with, and that’s because she badgered me until I let it slip. In trying to respect Henry’s wishes, I asked her to keep it to herself.

“Oh, relax. I’m not gonna say nothin’.” She hits the Up button with her elbow and then stands back. “I can’t believe you spent all morning watching that man cut wood and did not take one picture. Did he sweat? Oh, I bet he was sweating.”

“I didn’t notice,” I lie. “I know that
I
was sweating. It was hard work.”

“Why’d he ask you, anyway? I mean...” Her eyes roam my tiny frame.

“I think it was a reality check for outdoor work in Alaska. So I’d shut up and be happy in Housekeeping.”

“Lugging wood would do it, I guess.” A woman passes us in the corridor, her maid uniform slung over her shoulder. “Not bad, hey?” Tillie says, nodding toward it.

As far as frumpy housekeeping uniforms go, I’d say we lucked out. The French-inspired dresses are classy yet functional, all black with cap sleeves and cowl necklines, trimmed with white lace. Someone was modeling it earlier. It’s flattering. Nothing too revealing, and comfortable enough—though I haven’t scrubbed any toilets, yet.

The elevator doors open just as someone calls out, “Abbi, wait!” We turn to see Belinda speeding toward us, her heels clicking furiously.

“Go ahead. I’ll be up in a sec,” I tell Tillie, watching her disappear behind the doors.

“Did you get my message?” Belinda pants, like she’s out of breath.

I frown. “No. But I don’t have my phone on me.” I’ve enjoyed not carrying it, being disconnected from the world. Mainly from Greenbank.

She waves it away. “Not a problem. We have a solution to the role mix-up.”

Dare I hope? “You’re moving me to Outdoor?”

“No.” Her lips purse together. “But I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.” Is there a hint of bitterness in her voice? “Beginning tomorrow morning, you’ll be covering Penthouse One.”

“Penthouse One.” I frown. “I don’t understand. What does that even mean?” And how is that better?

“Here.” She thrusts an iPad at me. “All the information you need is in there. Guest programs, amenities, procedures. It’ll take you a few days to digest it all, but you’ll have time to do that.”

“But—”

“You’ll need a liaison’s uniform. They should have something that fits you.”

I stare at the iPad. “Okay?” I’m starting tomorrow and yet the hotel manager has admitted that it’ll take me a few days to know what to do. “Are you sure I’m the best person for this job?”

Again, that lip pucker. “It doesn’t matter what I think. Mr. Wolf insisted on it.”

My eyebrows must jump halfway up my forehead. “He did
what
?” Clearly he’s not as smart of a businessman as I thought he was if he’s going to put me with his most valuable guests.

Belinda hands me a key card. “Each penthouse has its own uniquely coded liaison card. You know where the penthouses are, right?”

I nod absently.

“To the right of the guest door is another door. That is the one you use. You’ll be expected to arrive on site tomorrow morning at 7:00 a.m., sharp.”

There are so many questions flying through my head that I don’t know where to begin.

She taps the iPad in my hand with her nail. “Watch the video, read through the training sections, and if you have any more questions, Paige will help you.”

I watch her stalk away as if in a rush, checking her watch as she rounds the corner.

A rash of nerves floods my stomach. What on earth was Henry thinking, putting me in this job? I thought he cared about his hotel?

I wish I knew how to find him so I could talk him out of this. But I don’t have time to hunt him down. I need to drop off these kits, get my new uniform, and get back to the cabin to familiarize myself.

I have a feeling I won’t be sleeping tonight.

~ ~ ~ ~

“
The
Cabins?” Autumn looks as shocked as Tillie did when I told her. “You need
years
of experience kissing rich people’s asses to be put there. Only superstar seasoned Wolf employees get that kind of gig.”

“Yeah. I don’t get it either.” I sigh, studying my new “uniform”—a breezy white blouse and plum-colored pencil skirt with a provocative slit up the back—that hangs in its dry-cleaning packaging on my hook.

I’m neither seasoned nor a superstar and yet the owner of Wolf Cove Hotel wants me catering to the needs of the most elite guests. Why? “So, what am I going to be doing there?” If anyone would know, Autumn would.

“Oh, man.” She unfastens a pearl earring and tosses it into a jewelry box. “Well, you’re basically there to cater to every need that your guests may have. You’re available to them at all times. All Wolf hotels have servants’ quarters on the same floor as the penthouses. Here, I heard that they’ve built little quarters inside each cabin, where you stay until you’re needed. Bring a book,” she warns, with a knowing stare. “And, depending on how demanding the guest is, you may be expected to stay overnight and cater to them at 3:00 a.m. if they buzz. When they want room service, you order it for them. When they want to eat at the restaurant, you make their dinner reservations. You make their excursion arrangements and spa sessions; you recommend activities, you ensure their liquor cabinet is full at all times, their coffee and tea is poured, their dishes are always cleared, their rooms are cleaned.”

“You wipe their asses if they ask you nicely enough,” Tillie murmurs.

I feel my face blanching. I hope she’s kidding.

“And the best part?” Autumn goes on. “You don’t even have to do the actual cleaning. You dial up Housekeeping when it’s convenient for the guest and someone else comes and does the work. Consider yourself a butler, only female.”

Well, that’s one blessing. But... “I’m supposed to book excursions?” My head is beginning to spin with all the things I need to know that I won’t, not before the morning. Why do I need to be there so early, anyway? No one’s going to be there at 7:00 a.m.

“Yes.” Autumn grins, climbing to the top bed. “Through your friendly concierge. And if you’re lucky, they’ll take you on one. You know, because they need a servant while they watch Kodiak bears and view glaciers.”

Mention of bears distracts me from my current agitation, bringing me back to this morning. And Henry. He has invaded my thoughts all afternoon and into the evening as it is.

“Penthouse guests get what they want, when they want it. Honestly, it’s the country club of the service world. At least, it is for a Wolf employee.”

“He’s insane.” I groan as I ease my sore body into the bottom bunk, having already showered and readied for bed.

“Who’s insane?”

“Mr. Wolf. Apparently, he’s the one who put me in this job.” I’ve been wracking my brain for the last half hour, trying to figure out why he would. There is nothing that happened today that should give him the false belief that I can do this job. A dark thought crosses my mind. Maybe he wants me to mess up so he has an excuse to fire me. I quickly dismiss that, though. It makes no more sense than anything else.

“She knocked Wolf on the head with a piece of wood when they were out earlier today, is what I think,” Tillie says, grabbing her robe and her shower caddy.

Autumn’s face suddenly appears beside me, her hair dangling in wet, freshly washed tendrils. “Wait, you were with
Mr
.
Wolf
?”

I sigh. So much for Tillie keeping her mouth shut. Thank God I didn’t tell her anything more than I was supposed to. “I helped him load firewood.”

She frowns. “Why? He has the Outdoor crew.”

“Don’t know, but who am I to say no to the boss.” I doubt I’d be capable of saying no to him, regardless of request. “And because I can’t say no, I’ll be down here, studying up on my role as liaison to a bunch of rich people all night.”

“You best suck it on up then because any of us, including me, would murder to be in your place. You’re gonna double your salary this summer, girl. I, for one, am green with envy,” Tillie mutters, heading toward the door.

Autumn, at least, offers me a sympathetic smile and yanks on the privacy curtain to close us in.

I slide on my headset and get ready for a long night.

Chapter Eleven

My black Tieks pad softly along the stone path, sheltered from the drizzle by the elaborately constructed wooden canopy above. The covering stretches all the way from the main lodge to the cabins, easily three hundred feet away. In one hand I hold a paper cup filled with staff lounge coffee, in the other the iPad, to hopefully catch up on everything I didn’t read when I passed out last night.

Unlike yesterday at this time of the morning, Wolf Cove is buzzing with life, staff preparing to meet the first wave of guests at noon with glasses of champagne and swift check-ins. Again, I wonder what I’m supposed to do until my guest arrives.

Ahead of me, the covered path splits off into three smaller paths, each leading toward an elegant and detailed timber cabin, small replicas of the main lodge. An ornate bronzed sign points me to the right.

Penthouse Cabin One and its grand mahogany door stand before me. As Belinda promised, the servants’ entrance is next to it. Inhaling deeply, I stick my key card into the slot and wait for the telltale beep and green light to allow me in.

The liaison’s room is a small nook. On my left is a basic office: a desk, phone, computer, stationery supplies, and the like. Across from me is another door. The one, I presume, that leads into the suite. To my right, shelving with extra supplies—towels, bedding, every toiletry you could imagine, wine glasses—line the wall, along with a shiny stacked washer and dryer. There’s a doorway at the far end. I wander through it and find a small powder room and a twin bed tucked into the corner. I guess that’s where I’ll sleep, if I have a guest who insists on it?

I’m not crazy about this idea.

With a nervous sigh, I set my things on the desk and survey the space again, scanning over the bulletin board. It’s neatly plastered with all kinds of information: the restaurant and room service menus, full alcoholic beverage choices, and phone numbers to all facilities, as well as a checklist of all expected duties, along with timelines.

Place newspaper in mail slot by 6:30 a.m
. Does that mean I need to be here by six thirty every morning? And how does Wolf Cove even get newspapers that early?

Deliver new vase of fresh-cut flowers each day with breakfast.
That, I can remember.

Turndown service at 8:00 p.m. or when the guest requests it, if they are staying in.

When does my shift here end? Obviously I’ll be handing off at some point... right?

Suddenly the door to the suite opens and I spin on my heels.

“Good, you’re here,” Henry says, filling the doorframe with his body.

It takes me a moment to respond, my mouth hanging open in shock. “What are you doing here?” I scan him from head to toe, and excited butterflies fill my stomach, making me forget my current stress levels. He’s as intoxicating as ever to look at, his black pants custom-fit to a body that sees the leg press at the gym regularly, no doubt. His dress shirt is still hanging open, revealing a white V-neck t-shirt beneath, the material thin and fitted enough to highlight his pectoral muscles and a six-pack beneath.

“I live here.”

“You
live
here?” My gaze drifts past him to catch glimpses of a white couch and fur rug, and a rustic-hewn side table.

“While I’m in Alaska, yes.” Mesmerizing blue eyes float over my uniform, unnerving me. I was already feeling self-conscious in it. My skirt hugs my body from my hips right down to my knees. It’s a good thing that bending won’t be easy in it because the slit up the back is deep. The blouse is more fitted across the chest than I had expected, and I don’t know if that’s the design or my disproportionately ample boobs. It’s missing at least two buttons off the top for what I’m comfortable with. I won’t be able to lean over without exposing myself. All in all, it’s a modest, professional outfit that’s not so modest or professional after all. But I guess all the female liaisons wear it, so I need to suck it up.

Henry takes several steps back—his feet are bare—and gestures for me to come in.

I follow him, the smell of soap and aftershave filling my nostrils. His hair is still damp from a shower.

I finally force my eyes off him—because I’m staring—and train them on the full wall of floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite end. The vast expanse of water stretches beyond. “Nice place.” Inside, the cabin walls and ceiling are made entirely of wood. I can’t be sure of what kind, but it has a grayish coloring, which complements the soft decorative palette of whites, grays, and creams. It’s obvious that a topnotch designer had a hand in every detail.

My head tips back to take in the double-story vaulted ceiling, and the thick beams running the length on either side. “Steep.”

“I like high ceilings,” Henry explains easily, wandering over to the dining table, where room service dishes rest. He pours himself a coffee. “Would you like one?”

I hold up my paper cup in answer.

A sexy smirk curls his lip. “I promise, this will be better.”

While he’s pouring into a second cup, my gaze drifts toward a sliding door to the right, half-open. Behind it I spy the bedroom, a mess of bed sheets strewn over the bed. My body begins to hum with the mental vision of Henry’s body tangled within those sheets. Does he wear something? Or does he sleep naked?

“Abbi?”

“Yes?” My head whips back to Henry, to find him holding the creamer over my cup.

“Cream and sugar?”

“Yes, please.”

He prepares it wordlessly and then sets the cup in front of me.

“Thank you.” I take a long sip, releasing a soft moan. He’s right—the stuff from the staff lodge tastes like mud by comparison.

He quietly watches me savor my coffee, one hand resting over the damask-upholstered dining chair, until I begin to squirm under the weighty gaze.

“Why did you tell Belinda to move me here? I don’t know the first thing about serving your wealthy guests. I’m going to disappoint people.”
You
,
most of all.

He sets his mug down. “You’re not here to serve my rich guests. I want you to work for me.”

I frown, confused. “I thought I already was working for you.”

“Not as Wolf Cove staff. As my personal assistant.”

“Your personal assistant,” I repeat, surprise numbing my senses.

“I lost my assistant recently, and I need someone to keep me organized. Someone I can trust. And, frankly, I need someone to take care of me. Look at this place; it’s a disaster.”

I scan the room again at his prompt. Aside from a few loose newspapers and empty dishes, I don’t see anything amiss. “What would you need me to do?”

“Basic admin work, like managing my calendar and e-mail, booking my meetings, booking excursions with investors and other important clientele that come in. Attend management meetings with me. Liaise with Belinda to make sure the grand-opening event goes smoothly. That is especially important. There will be a lot of media here.”

“I have no experience.”

“That’s not what you said in your interview. You worked in the church office, managing your reverend’s calendar and helping organize events, right?”

I laugh. “That’s nothing like what you’re asking me to do now!” A weekly coffee with Edith, the ninety-two-year-old organist. The first of the month food drive in the church basement. Not exactly on par with the CEO of a luxury hotel chain’s daily schedule, I’m sure.

He pops a grape into his mouth and chews slowly. “I called the Reverend. He spoke highly of you.”

“Reverend Enderbey? You
called
him?” I squeak. “When?”

“A few days after the job fair.”

“You wanted me back then?” His eyebrows spike and I replay my words in my head. “I mean, for this job,” I quickly correct, flushing.

He flashes the tiniest, most devilish of smirks, and my stomach flutters. I’m beginning to crave those smirks. “I began considering you for the position then, yes.” With slow, measured steps, he closes the distance to me, circling me. “I called your aunt, too. We spoke at length about your work ethic, your reliability, and your values.” There's a hint of mockery with that last piece, and I wonder if that has to do with his own lack of faith, or my poor demonstration of those values to date. “She told me all about your painful breakup with the Reverend’s son.”

“Wait a minute.” It dawns on me. “So, that night on the dock, you already knew who I was and that you’d hired me to be your assistant?”

Henry stops directly behind me, forcing me to turn around. I find him on the edge of my personal space, like a sly animal closing in on me. Confusion and wariness compete for my attention. What kind of game is he playing here?

“I hadn’t made my final decision yet and, honestly,” his steely blue gaze flickers to my mouth, “after that night, I wasn’t sure that you would be a good fit for me.”

Because I practically licked his neck and asked him to sleep with me. Will I ever live that night down?

“That’s why I took you out yesterday morning. I needed to spend time with you, sober, to make sure that this would work.”

“And you think it will?”

“Obviously.”

Obviously
. “So, then... Hiring me for the outdoor team—”

“Was never going to happen. When I found out, I made Belinda change you in the system before you got here. There is no way I am putting you in there with those guys. It’d be like dropping a lamb into a pack of wolves.”

So Belinda was in on this from the beginning. That explains her lack of concern or compassion. “I can take care of myself,” I argue, feeling more than a little annoyed at being deceived all this time.

He reaches up to touch my braid, his fingers skimming down the length of it until he lets it fall. “Really? And what do you think would have happened to you that night, had one of them found you on the dock instead of me?” Amusement slides off his face, replaced with a hard look. “Drunk and broadcasting that you’re a virgin, your hands all over the guy’s chest, whispering in his ear... asking him to fuck you.” I gasp at his words, more inappropriate now than when I said them to him that night. “Your night would have ended with you bent over the table in the utility shed, I can promise you that. Most men don’t have the kind of control that I do, not when you dangle that kind of bait in front of them.”

What is he saying? That he needed to exercise control that night? Was I maybe not imagining things? Was this beautiful, sexy, all-consuming man in front of me considering acting on my request?

I push that thought aside because it no longer matters, if I’m going to be working as his assistant. And because it’s plain ludicrous. Still, I struggle to regain my composure. My voice wobbles when I speak. “What if I don’t want to take this job?”

Surprise flickers across his face. “You don’t want to work with me every day? I thought you were happy that I was staying.”

“No, that’s not... I’m not saying...” I stumble over my words. “I mean, what if I’m not convinced I can do this job?”

He smiles now. “
I’m
convinced you can do it. You’re smart. I think you know when to jump at an opportunity. Fake it ’til you make it, right? Or something like that.”

I
did
lie to get this job. Though, they saw through it immediately.

I nod. “So, administrative stuff?”

Another three heartbeats pass and then he moves past me and back toward the dining table and his coffee cup. I sense his demeanor shifting back to a more professional one. “And personal assistant help, too. I dragged a guy out of bed last night at midnight to dry-clean my suit because I didn’t get a chance to bring it down earlier. I need someone who’s going to be on top of those kinds of things for me.”

On top of dressing Henry? What about undressing Henry... I grit my teeth to keep the smile at bay. “That, I think I can do.”

His hand waves through the area. “And keeping this place in order, clean. I don’t let staff in here. I have too many confidential and private things lying around.”

“You don’t trust your staff?”

“No.” Not a moment’s hesitation answering that.

“But, why hire people you don’t trust?”

“I have my reasons,” he says, and I can tell he’s not going to elaborate. “But I do trust you.”

“Why?”

“Because my gut tells me that I can, and I make decisions based on my gut.” He pauses, his eyes dipping down over my outfit again, that thick fringe of lash a thing of beauty. “I’m your boss, and you’re my employee, and I know you won’t cross any lines. While you’re sober, anyway.”

So, again, it all comes down to sex. And women wanting him, perhaps. Spoken by any other man, I’d write him off as an egotistical douchebag. But it’s
this
man standing in front of me, and I’ve already seen and heard firsthand how his employees talk about him, like he’s a piece of meat they’ll do anything to sink their teeth into.

“This job means spending a lot of time with me. Being in my living space with me while I’m rushing in and out, getting ready for meetings and events. Putting up with me while things are stressful. Do you think you can handle that?”