Page 11 of Deadly Wolf Bite

My heart pricks at that.

He didn’t choose me.

Does that mean he doesn’t want me, after all?

“I didn’t say I felt the same about the person who gave me the ring.” The words are out before I can talk myself out of it.

His expression softens. For a second, he’s completely open, his feelings on full display. “I hope you mean that.”

His voice is rough and vulnerable, shooting an arrow of hope straight to my heart, but before I can ask if he feels the same way, his expression tightens again, and he’s back to brooding.

I don’t say anything else.

Twenty minutes later, we’ve swapped the skyscrapers for rolling lawns that grow wider and more manicured as we wind along. Houses become larger and larger until we turn left into a gated neighborhood. Grey slows to a stop at the guardhouse and rolls his window down. But the uniformed guard merely offers a salute and waves us through without a word.

Grey waves back, and we drive on.

My worry is overtaken by awe as I drink in the beautiful houses along our route. They’re set back from the road, obscured by lush trees and bright green hedges, but I glimpse enough of them to note the luxury.

After a couple of turns, Grey pulls into one of the driveways.

The sprawling mansion looks like somewhere a congressman might live. A quick count gives it at least five chimneys and four different balconies. The exterior is a cream-colored stone of some kind. And the lawn is flawless. The grass couldn’t have been more perfect if someone had painted it on.

Grey parks under a covered carport on the side of the house.

“Where are we?” I ask, unable to hold in my curiosity another moment.

“Dutch’s house,” Grey says before climbing out.

My jaw drops as Grey rounds the car. He pulls my door open just as the security car parks behind us. I shut my mouth and climb hastily out to join him. “Seriously?”

“What? This place doesn’t scream Dutch to you?”

Before I can answer, a familiar lanky figure emerges from the house. Dutch is dressed in swimming trunks and a short-sleeved white button-down left undone to reveal a surprisingly cut chest and abs.

At the sight of us, he spreads his arms wide in greeting, a bottled beer clutched in one hand. “Mi amigos,” he calls as if this is some kind of reunion.

“Where are the others?” Grey asks.

“Her Majesty is out by the pool.” He tips his sunglasses down his nose and glances at me. “Waiting for you,” he adds. “You did bring a suit, right?”

“Under my clothes,” I say, gesturing to the sundress I threw on over the blue bikini I dug out of my duffel bag earlier. It’s Violet’s bathing suit. She wore it for a stage performance once—some mermaid thing she decided not to do again—but it’s technically a swimsuit. And despite how scant the fabric is, it makes me feel close to her to wear it now.

I need her courage today.

“Good.” Dutch waves me toward the house. “Come on. I’ll show you where to go while Grey and I get the snacks.”

I follow them inside, trying not to gawk. Marble floors give way to buttery white furniture and matching drapes that frame large windows overlooking the backyard. I pass a gleaming sideboard and can’t help but run my fingers over its pristine surface.

Grey’s penthouse is nice, but this place feels like a castle.

We reach an atrium in the very center of the house, and the walkway branches in four directions. To my left, there are more rooms decorated in mostly white and an ascending staircase near a set of wide front doors. But Dutch points to the right where French doors stand open to the outside. Beyond that, a patio beckons, and music spills in from outside speakers.

“Mia’s out there,” Dutch tells me.

Grey adds, “We’ll be right back.”

He and Dutch disappear down the hall, and I go in search of Mia, the only other woman in the friend group and one of Grey’s closest confidantes. Up until yesterday, I might’ve considered us friends too, but after last night, I can’t afford to think like that.

---