Page 7 of Deadly Wolf Bite

“Thank you,” I say, my voice strangled.

Guilt weighs heavily on my shoulders. I haven’t even actively betrayed him yet, and I already feel like a villain. Like a monster.

“You shouldn’t have,” I add, sort of wishing he hadn’t. His kindness makes this so much harder.

“I want you to know that I’m sorry,” he says, which has me biting back a groan. “I took you from your life, and I can’t put you back. But I can bring what’s left of your life to you. Or that was the idea, anyway.” He looks almost sheepish.

I study him, suddenly wondering if I was wrong to assume he only wanted to take me out last night because of the paparazzi. This gesture is genuine and gains him nothing. Maybe I was wrong, and he does care…

My heart leaps at the thought.

I push up to my toes and kiss him on the cheek. “It’s very thoughtful.”

He grabs me and pulls my mouth against his, kissing me fervently. My guilt blooms until it’s too painful to bear, but I kiss him back.

Playing the part, I tell myself. But it’s more than that.

I want this.

A man who gives me unexpected gifts. Kindness. A man who takes care of me. Someone I can lean on.

It’s not real. Or it won’t be once he knows what I’ve agreed to do.

But I’m not above pretending.

From his bedroom, Grey’s phone rings, and he breaks our kiss, cursing softly before doubling back to his bedroom to grab it. Alone, I look over at the bags. My bags. And listen while he speaks to whoever’s calling.

“Yeah,” he answers.

From his tone, I know it’s not Dutch. He’s too guarded for that. The only person I’ve heard him speak to that way is his father.

“Of course she’s here,” he says. “Where else would she be?”

I stiffen, unable to breathe or move while I wait for his next words. If Vincenzo’s asking about me, it could mean he knows where I was last night. Who I was with. The only thing worse than Grey finding out I was with Franco is if his father does.

Grey sighs. “Fine. Where and when?”

Another pause.

Fear squeezes my chest.

His tone relaxes. “No, I’ll make the reservation.”

“She’s fine. She got food poisoning from lunch.”

He goes quiet, and I strain my ears, trying to figure out what’s happe?—

He’s suddenly in my bedroom doorway, blocking out the light. I jump but then force myself to relax. With the phone still pressed to his ear, he’s paying me no attention.

Frowning, he says, “It won’t happen again.”

The caller says something I can’t make out, and the call ends.

“Who was that?” I ask, forcing my voice to remain even.

“My father.” My legs wobble as I imagine Vincenzo discovering what I’ve agreed to do. “He wants us at dinner tonight.”

“With him?” I ask.

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