Page 66 of Arranged Wolf's Nanny
He straightened, smoothing his jacket once more, and stepped back into the maelstrom.
“Are you ready?” Felix asked, eyes flashing as he glanced over to the Black Claws.
Rick sneered, “No games. No lead-ups. I’m not even going to give them the chance to lay any groundwork.”
Felix nodded, running a hand through his hair, “Good. I want this done clean.”
Rick couldn’t help the scoff. “I’d lower your expectations.”
“I’m serious, Rick,” Felix said, his voice low and graveled, thick with stress, “don’t do this as a wolf. It’ll only goad them. Do it as a lawyer. Brief. Impersonal. I want the fallout to be minimal.”
Rick’s lip curled. “Nothing has ever happened at an Accord meeting, and nothing will ever happen. The humans with their guns make sure of that.”
Felix bared his teeth. “Raph’s son is dead, Rick. I don’t think this is going to be like other Accord meetings.”
“Don’t worry,” Rick said, smoothing his jacket, eyes flashing as he looked around the room, “I have everything under control.”
Chapter 15 - Rosalia
The lounge was quiet once Rick had gone, though quiet in the Willard was a relative thing. The muted hum of conversation drifted in from the lobby, the faint clink of glassware, the occasional swell of laughter too sharp to be pleasant. But here, in this little corner room softened by rugs and velvet cushions, Rosalia could almost imagine she was far from the storm brewing outside.
Almost.
Eva wriggled against the couch, kicking off her shoes and curling her legs beneath her. She was still small enough to treat fine furniture like a playground, though Rosalia noted she at least tried not to scuff the cushions. She may have been raised in a household where manners mattered, but she still bore the restless energy of a wolf.
Rosalia folded her hands in her lap, posture perfectly poised, though she could not shake the tension coiled tight beneath her ribs. She had seen her father the instant they’d entered the lobby. She had felt his eyes on her like hooks tugging at her skin. And though Rick had guided her and Eva to safety without comment, she could not forget it. John Heath was here. Close. Breathing the same air.
And he always, always wanted something.
Eva broke the silence first, “Do you like it here?” she asked, green eyes wide as she glanced around the lounge. “It’s fancy, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Rosalia agreed softly. “Very grand.”
“I’ve never actually been to one of Papa’s big meetings before. Normally, they’re in Europe. I used to go to boardingschool nearby, but Papa decided I should come back to Silvermist for the time being. So this is exciting! Do you like hotels?”
Rosalia allowed herself a small smile. “I don’t dislike them. I haven’t been to many either, truth be told. My father also liked to keep me at home.”
Eva’s expression grew thoughtful. “Do you miss your home? The one you had before?”
The question caught Rosalia unprepared. For a heartbeat, she could only blink, lips parting, before she remembered to breathe.
“Yes,” she admitted, “sometimes.”
“What was it like?”
Rosalia smoothed her skirt, considering. How to describe Green Mountain Pack lands without painting them in her father’s colors? The forests had been beautiful, that was true. The mountains rolling and endless, the air sharp and clean. Her childhood had not been entirely shadow, not before she grew old enough to understand her father’s ambitions. There had been days of climbing trees with Katie, of running through the gardens, of giggling and hiding in the library.
But all of that was buried beneath his presence, the constant weight of his expectations. The long shadow cast over her life.
“It was in the mountains,” she said finally, choosing her words with care, “tall pines, clear rivers. Winters were long, but the snow was beautiful. I used to sit by my window and watch the flakes fall.”
Eva leaned closer, rapt. “Did you have friends?”
Rosalia hesitated, then nodded, “One. Her name is Katie. We grew up together. She was…” Rosalia’s throat tightened, and she looked away, feigning interest in the gilt-framed landscape on the wall. “She was my only real friend.”
“What’s she like?” Eva pressed, utterly guileless.
Rosalia allowed herself to remember. Katie’s laughter, bright as bells. The way she always tripped over her own feet, but never minded. Her love of stories, of imagining adventures beyond their pack’s borders. Katie had been gentle where Rosalia was cautious, open where Rosalia was guarded. Together, they had created a private world in which her father’s shadow did not exist.
