Page 75 of Wolfgang

When his mate was clean, dry, and already well on his way back to an aroused state, Wolfe pressed a final kiss to his neck. “Into the robe with you. Meet me in the sitting room. You’ll find a selection of books for you on my desk.”

Eric shrugged the robe on carelessly, turning to leave.

Wolfe cleared his throat. “Ah. Leave the phone.”

He was rewarded with a supremely suspicious look, but Eric left it nonetheless.

Wolfe waited until he heard Eric’s steps into the sitting room, then secured his own robe before taking hold of the gadget and dialing the offending number.

The voice that answered was cold as ice. “Finally. You better be dead or close to it, Eric Monroe.”

Wolfe closed the bathroom door gently, turning on the phone’s speaker as he made his way to the mirror. He hushed the beast inside him, newly restless with rage at the woman’s words. “Mrs. Monroe, I presume?”

“Who is this?”

“I’m Eric’s fiancé.” Wolfe grabbed his comb from the counter and began attending to his hair. Having a task was always helpful in controlling the temper. “You may call me Wolfgang.”

“My son doesn’t have a fiancé,” Mrs. Monroe said, voice laced with suspicion.

Wolfe grinned at himself in the mirror. “I assure you he does.”

“Put him on the phone.”

“Well, that’s the problem, my dear Mrs. Monroe.” Wolfe clucked his tongue, his reflection the picture of regret. “I’m afraid Eric won’t be speaking to you again, not for some time.”

“Excuse me?”

“We’ll have a trial period of three months. If during that time you can communicate via text civilly—no more than once per week, mind you—I could consider reopening the lines of communication.”

He had no doubt she’d fail, based on the messages he’d seen before. And he had no problem extending the communication embargo each time she violated the agreement. With any luck, it could be years before she earned the right to speak to his Eric—that was, until the day came they faked human Eric’s death. Then this monstrosity of a mother would be out of their lives forever. But for now, due to whatever sentimental pull Wolfe would never understand, Eric wasn’t ready to let go. So they would do this, with stipulations in place to protect his mate’s peace.

His mate’s contentment took priority. Always.

“You have no right to—”

“I have every right,” Wolfe cut in. Rude of him, but sometimes one had to meet people at their level. “Your husband’s quite the businessman, isn’t he, Mrs. Monroe?”

He was met with silence.

Wolfe used the tines of the comb to create a neat part in his hair. “A number of peculiar investments over the years. I can see why you wanted young Eric to earn his living in medicine. A much more stable profession. But wouldn’t it be embarrassing, if all your high-society friends got word of your husband’s errors? And then there are the regular transfers from our dear Eric’s account.”

“That’sfamily—”

The woman’s panic was palpable. Wolfe reveled in it. But he kept his voice even. It wouldn’t do to gloat at this stage. “Ericismy family, Mrs. Monroe. And if you want to continue living in the manner to which you’ve become accustomed, you’ll listen to what I say. Your trial period starts now. If you try to call again, I’ll burn everything you love to the ground.”

“I—”

Wolfe hung up. He stared at the phone for a good minute, waiting to see if the offending ringing would begin. But there was only blessed silence.

He found Eric curled up with one of his books on what he was sure to claim was an uncomfortable love seat. He looked absolutely fetching, his blond hair and dark-blue robe setting off the maroon of the furniture’s fabric.

Eric raised his brows as Wolfe entered the room. “You know I could hear that, right?”

“It wasn’t a secret.” Wolfe tugged the book out of Eric’s hands to peruse the title. His lips quirked; Eric had chosen one on the brutality of nineteenth century surgeries. An absolutely bloody choice.

Eric was studying Wolfe’s face in turn. “You know it’s neither reasonable nor healthy to expect me to be happy every second of every day, right?”

Wolfe shrugged, placing the book back into Eric’s hands. “Luckily I am neither reasonable nor particularly mentally sound, so we’ll simply have to do the best we can.”

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