Page 4 of Her Wolf

A wife’s needs

“Your wife wants to see you.”

A shadow eclipsed Neo Martin. Honestly, he’d expected Milo Finn; of all Cora’s lackeys, he seemed to be Numero Uno. But his second guess had been the lanky guy who could have doubled as an underwear model on those days when he wasn’t running to do Cora’s bidding.

Neo sat up, ignoring Lars as he took up his glass. Sylvia sat up too, perhaps sensing that their time sunbathing on the villa’s patio was over. Neo put a hand out to her; Sylvia had made no secret of her feeling for Cora, especially after Cora had murdered his father in cold blood in front of a hundred guests.

Sylvia sank back, a small sneer for Lars.

“Nice to see you too, peaches,” Lars said, pointing a finger at her as he clicked his tongue.

She rolled onto her back on her lounger and threw him a lazy finger.

When Neo rose from his lounger and snagged his signed soccer jersey from the back, Santino appeared at the corner of his eye.

Him he didn’t wave away—if Cora’s entire posse attended this meeting, he’d at least have someone at his back.

Santino had come to him after the wedding, distraught at the news of Javier’s death. He’d been too busy to attend the ceremony, which meant he’d missed the execution. Which was for the best; Santino had been close with Javier.

He followed Lars through the villa, Santino trailing them.

Strange, but he’d thought everything in this place would remind him of his mother, but only a few things triggered thoughts of her: the statue of Santa Muerte — the one she’d been so hell bent on getting rid of, the smell of coffee, sunsets.

Gabriella’d loved sunsets.

During their trip to France, those few times they’d been together before twilight, she’s insisted they sit on a balcony in sight of the sunset. She wouldn’t say a word as she watched the sky’s magnificent performance; margarita in one hand and a long, thin cigarette in the other.

Javier hadn’t known she’d smoked.

Maybe he hadn’t even known she’d been a coke fiend; their marriage had one of convenience.

It was ironic; Javier despised the concept of arranged marriages since his parents had forced him into one with Gabriella, but he’d still made it Neo’s fate.

In the grander scheme of things, his father had most likely understood the importance of something so archaic. The need to create a bond. To force someone’s hand.

Nothing in this godforsaken place reminded him of the waste of skin that was Javier Martin.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Lars said, glancing back at him. “Guess you don’t take after that delightful father of yours.”

Neo gritted his teeth. “Got a lot on my mind.”

They headed toward one of the villa’s conference rooms. Javier rarely had meetings on site, but obviously he’d made sure the villa had three conference rooms included in the plans in case he ever changed his mind.

This room was one of the smaller ones. Inside, several chairs encircled a long rectangle of a table. A larger swivel chair sat at the head of the table, behind which an aquarium filled with vacant-eyed fish swimming idly from one end of the tank to the other.

Cora sat in that chair. The big guy, Milo, stood behind her with his hands gripped in front of him, legs wide and shoulders relaxed.

A guard’s pose.

Santino’s presence was even more welcome now as the atmosphere thickened with anticipation when he stepped inside.

What the hell were they waiting for?

“What?” he asked.

Cora wore a slim-fitting black dress, her color of choice after the wedding. Her hair was loose instead of pulled back from her face. Her lips a touch darker than usual.

Did that mean something?

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