Meeting people and making small talk is the absolute last thing I want to do right now. I roll onto my back and shut my eyes. “Nothing.” Besides Henry’s huge cock coming all over the shower glass. I’m going to have to clean that glass tomorrow, and the idea isn’t even grossing me out.
What have I turned into up here? This is exactly what Mama was afraid of.
“He made you sign a gag order, didn’t he?” Autumn crawls back into her bed, the shock of my new job finally settling.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Figures. I heard he’s a bit paranoid. He hasn’t let anyone step foot in his room since he got here. Not the maids, not room service. He’ll leave dishes outside the door.”
“Can’t say I blame him after what happened in L.A.,” Tillie mutters, giving her eyes a rub. If anyone’s had a hard day today, it’s the housekeeping staff.
“What happened in L.A.?” I ask warily.
“He came home from a meeting to find a maid naked and handcuffed to his bed. When he called security to escort her out, she claimed he restrained her and forced himself on her.” Tillie reaches beneath her uniform and begins peeling her nylons off her body. I guess there is no room for shame when six women share a cabin together. “The accusation was shut down real fast, what with her on camera and using her room key to get in, and him being in a meeting all day. Wasn’t too bright, that one. I guess she thought she’d be playing out a fantasy for him and when she realized he wasn’t interested, she panicked to try and save her job. Gorgeous girl, too, from what I’ve heard. A Miss Venezuela runner-up, or something like that.”
“That’s not true. How do you know all this?” Autumn demands.
Tillie’s smug smile tells me she enjoys being the hub of dark and dirty secrets. Once again, I’m relieved that I never divulged details to her about that first night. “Also, he had an assistant in the New York office until a few months ago. He fired her for hitting on him.”
Is that the headache he was talking about with Belinda? The headache he wants to avoid? He did say that he hired me because he knows I won’t try anything. When I’m sober.
“Okay, seriously. I’ve been with Wolf for two years and I’ve never heard any of this!” Autumn exclaims, oblivious of my internal torment, her doubt evident. “Who is your source?”
“My cousin works for the Wolf head office. She has a way of hearing things.”
Will she hear about me spying on Henry in the shower today? Will I be the subject of conversation in a few weeks: the personal assistant who was fired on her first day for being a pervert?
And after he just went to such great lengths to find an innocent little farm girl who he thought he could trust?
“Well, I’ve heard that he’s pretty secretive to begin with, which makes me think he’s hiding something,” Katie offers, waggling her brows. “Maybe some serious kink.”
Of course Katie would be the one to suggest that.
Katie and Tillie turn to stare at me expectantly. “I saw nothing... kinky in his room,” I offer, my cheeks burning. I’m stepping dangerously close to the “don’t talk about me” line that Henry drew. I reach over to turn off the little wall lamp by my bed. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to get some sleep. Good night, everyone.”
After a moment, Tillie pulls herself off her mattress and reaches for her shower caddy and robe. “Well, he won’t ever have to worry about you doing something inappropriate, like handcuffing yourself to his bed. You may be the only one of the females at this place who can say that honestly.”
I’m not sure if she’s trying to make me feel better, but I’m not feeling better.
Now, I’m feeling much, much worse.
Chapter Fourteen
I take a deep, nervous breath as I step through the servants’ entrance into Henry’s place, my stomach in knots after barely sleeping all night. There were no texts or e-mails this morning when I dared check my work phone, cringing. Nothing from Belinda.
Will he address it? Or will he pretend it didn’t happen?
Do I apologize?
I’m afraid that I’ll burst into tears the moment he looks at me.
But Henry’s not there.
Evidence of him is there. His half-finished coffee, his breakfast dishes, emptied and stacked. And a note, with elegant scrawl that reads:
Reschedule today’s 7-8am meetings.
Book dinner for seven. Eight people.
H.W.
That’s it.
But where is he? His trip to Kodiak Island isn’t until eight thirty.
I sigh, disappointment and relief taking over where only pure dread resided moments ago. Maybe he’s too angry to face me right now. Or maybe he’s embarrassed by what I saw him do. Would a man be embarrassed by that? I know I’d want to die if he—or anyone—caught me touching myself like I did the other night.
Maybe I’m making a bigger deal of this than it is, though. Maybe he doesn’t care.
I sigh and pour myself a cup of coffee. For as long as it took me to organize his calendar yesterday, it’s going to take me all morning to reorganize it.
~.~.~.~
The canary-yellow Otter coasts in to the plane docks, the Wolf Cove brand proudly displayed on the wing. I watch from my chilly perch—the porch off the front of Cabin One—as the small door creaks open and one after another, bodies jump out. Seven men later, Henry’s large frame emerges, crouching to escape.
My heart begins racing. A nervous giddiness brews deep within the pit of my chest at the mere sight of him, even from this far away. He’s dressed casually—in jeans, his plaid jacket, and a charcoal vest peeking out from beneath, his chestnut-brown hair covered in a beanie. So incredibly sexy, but not exactly proper attire for the upscale Lux restaurant.
Which means he’ll have to come here to change.
The nervous dread that dulled hits me like a tidal wave now.
They’re all talking and laughing, slapping each other on the shoulders. I guess they enjoyed the tour.
Henry trails behind them, chatting with the pilot. Philip, I gather. He hands him something, to which Philip seems appreciative, bobbing his head and shaking his hand before he heads back to the plane.
I hug my body tightly, my breezy white blouse not nearly warm enough with highs of fifty, and watch until Henry disappears from view, all the while holding my breath against the hope that he’ll glance up here.
But he doesn’t so much as bat an eye.
Ducking back inside, I rush for the desk, scrambling to make sure any last minute e-mails are opened and dealt with before he arrives, squeezing my thighs together as my bladder threatens to spill.
But Henry never appears.
Two hours later, with no sign of Henry and my nerves sufficiently frazzled, my work phone texts with a message.
Come to the Summit at 2.
I groan. This is it. This is where Henry and Belinda sit across from me at a table and explain in painstaking detail how what I did was not only wrong but disgusting.
I glance at the clock. I have ten minutes to find this room. Not enough time to grab lunch, but I doubt I could stomach anything anyway. Collecting the iPad and my work phone, I scramble out the door.
I’m going to miss Alaska.
~ ~ ~ ~
I’m panting by the time I find the Summit boardroom, one minute past two. My heart leaps into my throat as I take a quick scan of its inhabitants—a stony-faced Henry, Belinda, Paige, and four unfamiliar faces sitting around a ten-person table.
They all turn to regard me as I knock meekly against the door.
“Take a seat.” Henry gestures to the chair next to him. I scramble toward it on wobbly legs, my hands shaking with nerves. Do all these people need to be here in order to fire me?