Page 40 of Arranged Wolf's Nanny
His fist clenched, and she flinched away from him, hands gripping the counter, “Interrupt me again,” he said, “and I don’t care who is here. I will not hesitate to remind you of therespectyou owe me. Is that clear?”
She whimpered, tears pricking her eyes.
“Rosalia,” he said, “is that clear?”
Her wolf thrashed within her, desperate to be released, and for one split second, she saw it. Saw herself, muzzle dark with her father’s blood as she tore him apart. His body crumpled under her claws. The freedom she could rip from his throat.
And then it was gone. Replaced with his looming figure, his unwavering power over her. The memories of what he would do.
“I understand, Father,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
He stepped back, straightening his suit jacket. “Excellent. Now, pull yourself together. You have guests to attend to.”
Rosalia wiped at her eyes furiously, shame and rage prickling her skin. Her fingers came away streaked black with smudged mascara.
Her father made a sound of disgust, “You can start by cleaning yourself up; you look pathetic.”
Something in the air shifted, fell silent, as a shadow fell across the doorway.
“What did you just say to her?”
The voice cracked like a whip across the room, sharp as a blade, cold as ice.
Rosalia’s head whipped up in shock.
Rick stood in the doorway, arms folded, jaw set. He didn’t even glance at her. His eyes, practically blazing red, were trained on her father.
Her father straightened, the barest whisper of alarm passing over his face before he schooled his features into easy-going civility and turned around. “Rick! So good to see you. How is the party going, is…ah…Eva isenjoying herself?”
Rick didn’t answer. He stepped forward into the room, his scent filling the space. Woodsy and dark. The temperature dropped several degrees, and something angry and charged sparked in the air. The crackle of ozone before a shift.
Rosalia sucked in a breath. Surely Rick wouldn’t lose his temper and turn, not here. Not because ofher.
“I asked,” Rick said, his voice silky smooth and full of venom, “what did you just say to her?”
Her father paused, no doubt weighing up his options, and Rosalia’s old, insistent need to impress him told her to speak. To defend him. To brush it off as nothing and go and fix her face, like he had told her to do.
But she stayed quiet.
Her father laughed, natural and easy, fondly placing a hand on Rosalia’s shoulder. Rick’s eyes followed the movement, a muscle in his jaw ticking.
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” her father said. “I found Rosalia here in a bit of a state. I think she’s over-exerted herself a bit, what with all this party planning. You know how females can be.”
“Do I now?” Rick asked, tone soft. Deadly.
Her father’s hand tightened on her shoulder, the edges of his smile tight, “I’m afraid I’ve always been one for tough love.I was merely suggesting that Rosalia go and clean herself up. It would make her feel better.”
For the first time, Rick’s eyes flickered to her, and heat crept up her neck. She fought the urge to hide her face, to turn away from him. She didn’t want him to see how weak she was. Howdocile. Well-trained as a kicked dog.
Her earlier daydreams of him ever seeing her as an equal turned to ash in her mouth. How could he respect her when she didn’t even respect herself enough to stand up to her own father?
There was a small crease between his eyebrows as he looked at her, the same as when he was trying to work something out.
She wanted to scream. She wasn’t apuzzle. She was aperson.
Rick turned back to her father. “I understand,” he said. “Why don’t you go and greet Felix, I’m not sure he’s aware you’ve arrived. We’ll be along shortly.”
Her father’s fingers dug into her skin, “I’d rather make sure my daughter is well, if you don’t mind.”
