Page 16 of Her Wolf

Because

“Another drink?” Sylvia asked, nudging Neo with her toe. Throwing her a glare, He jerked his foot away before shrugging.

“Are you going to be like this the whole night?”

He glared at her, but all that did was to make her raise an eyebrow in his direction. “You weren’t there,” he said.

“Put Cora in her place,” Sylvia said, waving an indolent hand. “Then you’ll be smiling again.”

He jerked his shoulders, trying to settle into something approaching a comfortable position. The villa’s jacuzzi should have been relaxing with its water jets, but it kept reminding him of the night Javier had forced him to marry Cora. How he’d had to jam that ring onto her finger. The way she’d stiffened when he’d kissed her.

You wouldn’t think a slut like her would turn away any man’s lips.

He knew what she did with those men; he’d overheard the staff he played soccer with. Their wives gossiped to each other about the state of the beds they had to clean.

It disgusted him, but what the hell could he do about it? His own wife bedded three men—at the same time—and he was powerless to stop her.

“Here.” Sylvia twisted around, her breasts straining in the small, white bikini she wore.

Neo washed his gaze over her body as she busied herself. She was a few years older than him—had been more than a decade younger than his father—but her body was as toned and slender as a model’s.

His father’s mistress had become a surprising ally. When the dust and ash had settled after the wedding, she’d come knocking on his door. He thought she was there to ask permission to leave, but instead, she asked if he wanted company for the night.

He’d been too broken to reject her, and too depressed to fuck her. And she seemed to know it; she’d given him a massage and watched a movie with him until they’d both fallen asleep. Last night, she hadn’t been in his room, and he thought he’d never see her again. But an hour ago, she’d knocked on his door and dragged him up to the jacuzzi to ‘get rid of his stress’, which she claimed radiated from him like cheap cologne.

Turned out, she’d disappeared earlier to find some coke.

She twisted back to him, a small mirror balanced on her palm, two lines of cremita already etched onto its surface.

“Take it,” she said in her brusque—if husky—voice.

He hesitated, but not for long. Hot ice shot through his nasal passages as he snorted up one line, then the other. He rubbed his thumb along the mirror’s surface, gathering up the cocaine dust that had settled there.

His gums went numb when he massaged his thumb over them.

Sylvia cut two lines for herself, and faced him again with a slender finger delicately patting her nose.

Stretching out one of her long legs, she ran the side of her foot up his calf. “So, what will you do, Don Neo?”

His brain sparkled like the sky on New Year’s Eve. A thousand answers spilled into his mind, each harsher than the last.

He could ignore Cora, hand her over to a rival cartel, fuck her and force her to carry his child, feed her to his father’s lion.

But all he said was, “Why do I have to do anything?”

Sylvia threw back her head and laughed. The sound was as brash as she was. “I was with Havie—” Sylvia’s nickname for his father “—for five years.” She let this sink in as she studied him, and he shifted when the intensity of her gaze only became stronger.

“So?” he snapped, sniffing and swallowing hard to get rid of the bitter taste going down the back of his throat. “Now you’re an expert or something?”

She gave him a knowing smile. “Or something…” Her foot ran down the inside of his calf, and then up the other leg.

“You tell me then,” Neo said, thumbing his nose. “Tell me what I should do, if you know so fucking much.”

She tilted her head to the side and spread her arms along the rim of the jacuzzi. Her foot brushed his knee and then crept along his inner thigh.

“Your dealers are waiting for product,” she said. “And they’re not patient men. Especially the Irish.”

“You know them?”

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