Page 80 of Arranged Wolf's Nanny
He felt her lashes lower against his shirt. “The wolf is you,” she said matter-of-factly, already half asleep. “And the small brave rabbit is me.”
He tipped his chin until his mouth brushed her hair, “Correct on both counts.”
“And Rosalia is the moon.”
He closed his eyes. The child had a gift for cutting to the bone. “Maybe,” he allowed.
“She’ll come back,” Eva murmured.
He tucked the blanket more closely around her, “Maybe,” he repeated, softer this time.
A few breaths later, she was heavy in his arms in the way children get when sleep drops them like a stone. He sat with her a while for the sake of sitting, because there were only a few places in the world where his heart remembered how to be still, and most of them involved this child asleep against him.
When her breathing had deepened enough that he could move without waking her, he stood carefully, lifting her as if shewere made of spun sugar. She looped her arms around his neck by instinct. He carried her to the bedroom and laid her on the turned-down bed, smoothing the sheet up to her collarbone the way she liked, tucking it beneath her shoulders with a small, precise push.
She stirred. “You said you’d be here.”
“I am.” He brushed a knuckle over her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Even if the moon hides,” she mumbled.
“Even then.”
He stood there longer than necessary because he could. Then he crossed the rug to the small table, poured a glass of water, and drank it while watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. The water sobered nothing and everything at once.
When he eased the door nearly closed, he left it open exactly two fingers’ width, the measure that had proven perfect for catching the note of a nightmare if one began and for letting in enough hallway light to keep monsters at bay.
Back in the office, the bottle glowered. He ignored it. He didn’t want it now. Whiskey dulled the edge of rage, but it blurred clarity, too, and clarity was what he needed most.
He was still standing there when the knock came. Three hard raps, nothing timid.
Rick strode down the stairs and opened the door to find Dane, broad as a wall and unbothered by the lateness of the hour. Nicolas came close behind, lean and sharp-eyed, with Felix himself bringing up the rear. The alpha’s presence was like cold steel.
Rick stepped back without a word and let them in, walking upstairs to his office, trusting that they would follow.
He wanted to be close to his daughter.
Dane shut the door, and Nicolas dropped into a chair without waiting to be offered one. Felix leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. Their silence filled the room heavier than smoke.
Rick braced. “Say it.”
“You were an idiot,” Nicolas said flatly.
Rick’s jaw flexed.
“You were,” Dane agreed, though his tone was less cutting, “You had her standing right in front of you, telling you she’d never betray you, and you chose to believe paper instead of her eyes.”
Rick turned to Felix. “So you were eavesdropping, then?”
Felix shrugged, unapologetic. “I was only two doors down. It was hard not to. The only reason I didn’t get involved was because I didn’t want you making any more stupid mistakes in your anger.”
Rick wanted to argue. He wanted to tell them about the letter, about the way her handwriting curved around his name, about the admission she had trusted another with words that could burn his plans to ash. But the words jammed in his throat.
“She was writing to her friend,” Nicolas said, leaning back, “Katie. The one she’s mentioned since she got here. That’s not the same as selling you out.”
Rick turned sharply. “How do you know?”
“Because I listened,” Nicolas said, “You don’t pay attention to the small talk, Reinhardt, but I do. She’s always talking about her to Daisy and the others. That place was a hellhole for her growing up, and from the sounds of things, Katiewas the only good thing she had. She trusted her friend. That’s not the same as espionage.”
