Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“What am I supposed to do? I can’t have a daughter.”
And yet you do.
Henry looks at me, and for the first time since I’ve met him, through all the trials he’s faced—Scott trying to sabotage his takeover of Wolf Hotels with a threat of fake rape charges by his ex-assistant, Scott manipulating my insecurities opening weekend to destroy Henry and me, Henry’s father’s death, which turned out to be murder, his near-death experience in the mine—he looks genuinely lost.
Henry wanders over to the window to stare out into the night sky, his back to me, the contract dangling from his fingertips.
This is jarring—the invincible Henry Wolf, who always has a plan, who moves forward at breakneck speed, hurdling over problems to get to his destination, is facing something he doesn’t know how to tackle.
A fifteen-year-old girl.
“Why would Audrey let Violet show up here unannounced like this? And in the middle of the night?” he asks, but I’m not sure he’s looking for an answer.
“Maybe she doesn’t know Violet came.”
“Which would mean Audrey had no plans to break the deal with my father. Maybe she doesn’t want me in Violet’s life.”
“What do you want?” I’m sure teenage Henry never imagined he’d be revisiting his indiscretions later, in the form of another human being. Is he looking for a way out of it now?
His jaw tenses, but he doesn’t answer the question. “There’s a Philly address here.”
“That’s a long way for her to travel, alone.”
“This contract was signed sixteen years ago. I doubt they still live there.”
“Dyson could help you track them down, if that’s what you want.”
“It’s not about what I want, is it? It’s about what’s right.” His shoulders drop as if weighed down. “I could do without a life-altering shock for a week or two. Is that too much to ask?”
I close the distance and curl my arms around his waist. He smells delicious—of cedar and spice. “We’ll figure it out.”
Henry rests his chin on top of my head, allowing me to hold him in silence while his thoughts sink into the depths.
Finally, he sighs, breaking the spell. “I need to comb through this in detail, see how my father’s lawyers tied her up so I know what I’m dealing with. I’ll see you in bed.”
A dismissal. He wants time alone to absorb and think. “Don’t stay up too late,” I warn him, but it’s futile. If I know Henry at all, he won’t come to bed until he has every answer he’s looking for.
“Dyson found them.”
I blink against the daylight slipping through the crack in the curtains, taking a moment to gather my bearings. Henry stands in the doorway to the bathroom, a white towel wrapped around his waist, his hair damp. I’m not sure he even made it to bed.
Last night’s sleep was restless, my mind toiling as I drifted in and out of consciousness, my insecurities feeding on baseless worries and my dreams painting terrible scenes—of Henry’s smoking hot teacher and the mother of his child invading our lives.
Of Henry rethinking his future with me.
“They’re still in Philadelphia.” He disappears into the closet, and I hear the towel flop to the floor. My blood stirs with a mental image of Henry’s perfect naked form.
Now is not the time for those thoughts. I pull myself up to a sitting position, searching for the will to get out of bed. “How did Violet get here from Philly?”
“Train, I imagine. Unless she stole a car. With that kid’s attitude, I wouldn’t be shocked.” A moment later, Henry emerges with pants on.
I admire his torso as he tugs a black sweater over his head. “What are you going to do?”
“There’s only one thing to do. Talk to Audrey.”
The version of Henry I know well is back—calm, take charge, unruffled. “And you’re sure Violet is yours?” I ask, though I already know the answer to that. I saw it in her face.
“Yes, she’s mine. My father insisted on a paternity test as part of the contract. He probably gave them my toothbrush as a sample.”
“Of course he did.” If William wanted the test and didn’t want Henry to know, then the test would run and Henry wouldn’t be the wiser.
“It doesn’t matter what my father did or didn’t do in the past. He’s gone and I’m here, and I have a child I now know about. I can’t ignore that, even if I might want to.” Henry collects his wallet and watch from the dresser. “I’ll be back later.”
“Wait, you’re going now?” I check the bedside clock. It’s a quarter to ten on a Sunday morning.
“It’ll be noon by the time I get there.”
“Right.” Of course, he wouldn’t waste time. This is Henry, after all. But a twinge of worry pricks me. Henry is running out the door to meet the mother of his child, his horny teenage conquest.