Page 74 of Arranged Wolf's Nanny
Closing the door with a soft click, she sucked in a breath, glancing up and down the dark hallway. Rick hadn’t stayed long enough to hear her out. He had stormed out of her room, his heavy footsteps disappearing down the stairs. She didn’t knowwhere he was, and she didn’t want to run into him on her way out.
She didn’t think she would be able to bear it. The next time she faced him, it would be with proof of her innocence.
What if I’m not innocent?
She gritted her teeth, steeling her nerves as she stalked down the corridor. She was innocent. In all the ways that mattered, she wasn’t a Green Mountain wolf. She was an Iron Walker.
She wasn’t Rosalia Heath. She was Rosalia Reinhardt.
She wasn’t John’s daughter. She was Rick’s wife.
And she would face the world with all the strength ofeverythingshe was, everything she had grown to be.
The lobby of the cozy, lodge-style hotel was quiet as she crept in, eyes peeled for her husband’s form. Scenting the air, she caught a strand of his musk, but it was hours old.
He wasn’t here.
With a sigh of relief, she walked up to the front desk, slamming a confident mask onto her face.
She needn’t have bothered. The human attendant smiled blankly at her and asked her what she needed.
“A cab,” she said, wrapping a scarf around her neck, “To the Manor House in Green Mountain Vale.”
The attendant clacked a few keys, the blue glow of the computer enhancing the tired bags under his eyes. “In Pennsylvania?”
His tone was bored, as if requests for cross-state travel at four o’clock in the morning were a routine occurrence.
“Yes,” she said, producing the card Rick had given her, the one for her bank account with the money she supposedly earned for technically being Eva’s nanny. “Charge it to this, please.”
The attendant took her details, his eyes narrowing slightly as he read her name. “...Reinhardt? You have an open line of credit already.”
Rosalia gave a breezy laugh. “That’s my husband’s. I’m traveling alone.”
He blinked, sighing deeply, before beginning a recital in dull monotone, “I’m obligated to ask you if you have been the victim of domestic assault. There are several helplines available if you need—”
“What? No, no!” Rosalia said, shaking her hands, “It’s nothing like that. I’ve just…had a call…that my father has taken ill. I need to go and visit him now, and my husband isn’t in. I don’t want to alarm him. In fact, can I leave a message for him?”
The attendant picked up a pen, opening it with a lethargic click. “Yes?”
“Tell him…” Rosalia hesitated, mulling over her words. “Tell him…”
The attendant raised an eyebrow, blinking slowly at her.
She faltered. “You know what, I’ll just call him. Best he hears it from me.”
“That might be best,” the attendant intoned, before dutifully picking up the phone to call her a cab.
Rosalia turned, her stomach swooping.
It was best she just go and sort things out herself. Rick would only jump to conclusions if she left him a message. Hewas too angry to see things clearly. She could fix this. Shehadto fix this.
She’d be back in Silvermist tomorrow, and everything would befine.
***
Her old house reared against the horizon like a carcass of stone and timber, its roof jagged against the night sky. Multiple lights were on, and cars lined the driveway. The sun had just begun to peek over the horizon, but her father and his retinue had only had a few hours’ head start on her. It was unsurprising that they hadn’t yet gone to sleep. Too muchplottingto do.
The sight of the building sent a chill crawling over her skin.
