Page 25 of Deadly Wolf Bite

My confusion turns to suspicion. “Why are you asking me?—”

“Answer the fucking question.”

I sigh. “I guess. Doesn’t everyone?”

“When was the last time?”

I hesitate, trying to think back. “I can’t remember.” He snarls, and I hurry to add, “My social worker said there was something in my file. I got a high fever as a baby and the doctors were worried because no antibiotics worked at first. Why?”

“That was the only time?”

“I think so.”

He grunts like I said something helpful. “Give the phone back to Jericho.”

I do as he asks, glad to be done with the sudden interrogation but mystified by what it all means. Grey listens to whatever Vincenzo’s saying, his expression no help in deciphering the answers to my questions.

Lost in thought, I walk to the kitchen and help myself to a glass of water. When I turn back, Grey’s still standing where I left him. He’s hung up, and his expression is a bit stunned.

“What did he say?” I ask quickly.

“He said…good job.”

“What did you do?”

“Not me. You.”

“What did I do?” I ask warily because earning the asshole’s approval makes me almost as nervous as provoking his ire.

“The interview you gave to the paparazzi. The comments about Franco and you being one big happy family. He loved it. Said it was a nail in the old buzzard’s coffin. He wants us to keep talking to the press like that. Use our comments to paint Franco into a corner.”

“I mean, that was our goal anyway,” I say with a shrug.

“It was. It’s just weird to have his appreciation.”

“It won’t last,” I warn.

He shakes himself, his gaze sharpening. “No, but it makes playing our games that much easier if he thinks we’re playing his.”

He walks over and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me close. If he notices me stiffen, he ignores it, tucking my hair behind my ear.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, brushing my lips with a kiss.

I try to keep my body and brain separate as he deepens the kiss, his arms around me tightening in a possessive hold. But it’s impossible not to respond to the way he touches me. The way my body wants him to. Impossible to ignore the way my heart fills and stutters.

“You’ve been distant,” he says when he finally eases back. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say, my voice raspy with desire. “Tonight was a lot. With the press and the paparazzi.”

“Mmm. You would tell me,” he says a bit more sharply, “if there was something else?”

My heart races. “Like what?”

I brace myself, but instead of answering outright, he says, “I’ve never introduced my mother to anyone before.”

“Really? She doesn’t know Dutch or Mia?” I tease.

He smirks. “Sure, but I’m not taking them home and doing this to them afterward.”

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