The Wolf and His Wife

by Penelope Sky

  He kept the same stony expression on his face.

  “Looks like I disappointed you…again.” I needed to accept the difficult truth—my father hated me. It didn’t matter how much I hoped otherwise. The truth was difficult to swallow, but I had to get it down my dry throat anyway. “I should get back to my wife now. Try anything, and I’ll watch your brains splatter on the wall—just the way I did with Kamikaze.” With my drink in hand, I left him by the bar and returned to the beautiful woman in the pink dress. She’d just said something to make her admirers laugh.

  I came to her side and placed my arm around her waist.

  She glanced down at my drink. “No more champagne?”

  “Too sweet for me.”

  “You mean, it’s not strong enough,” she teased.

  The group laughed again.

  I shrugged in response.

  Lydia, one of the wives of my associates, addressed the one topic I didn’t want to discuss. “I saw your father is here this evening. Seems to be getting better after losing your mother. How’s he doing?”

  Arwen immediately dropped her smile.

  I wanted to tell the world that my father was a worthless asshole who should be dead instead of my mother. But I kept my mouth shut. “He’s taking it one day at a time.” After a few more exchanges, they walked away and left us alone together.

  Arwen turned to me. “What did he say?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Maverick,” she pressed.

  “No, he really said nothing. I blew him off at the bar then came back to you.” I didn’t turn back to where he’d been standing moments ago. I didn’t want to acknowledge his existence at all. I wasn’t the least bit scared of him or what he might do. “Don’t worry about him.”

  She watched me with obvious concern. “You think he’ll try to—”

  “No.” I brought her into my side and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Let’s forget about him, alright?”

  She nodded and went quiet.

  Julian Levy stood up on a chair so everyone could see him across the room. He held up a glass of champagne then addressed the crowd. “Thanks for coming out, everyone. Nothing better than seeing happy faces swimming in champagne and bruschetta. I hope you all have a lovely evening.” He raised his glass. “But we also have a special guest here tonight. I’m sure you all recognize her from her performance at the opera. Where is she?” He scanned the crowd and looked at Arwen.

  “How are they not sick of me yet?” Arwen asked.

  It wasn’t surprising. I raised my glass in the air. “She’s right here, Julian.”

  A blush entered her cheeks and nearly matched the color of her dress.

  “Great,” Julian said. “Can we borrow your wife for a song?”

  I took the glass of champagne from her hand. “I know I can’t hog her all the time.”

  Arwen looked at me with a hint of dread in her eyes, as if she still couldn’t tolerate the idea of so many eyes on her. She won the affection of everyone in the room, like a magnet that attracted everything in its vicinity.

  “Play that new song you told me about.” I kissed her cheek before I let her go.

  Arwen didn’t want to walk away just yet. She still lingered beside me like that was the only place she really felt safe. After she gave herself a nudge, she finally walked away and pushed through the crowd until she reached the piano.

  It was classic, black, and elegant.

  I handed her glass to a waiter and waited for the music to begin. I was in the rear, but I was tall enough to see her easily. The high ceiling would still echo the music she played, so I would be able to hear it as clearly as if she were standing right beside me.

  She smoothed out her dress and took a seat on the bench, her shoulders perfectly straight and her stomach tight. Her head tilted down toward the keys, a loose strand of hair falling with her movements. Her slender fingers gently landed on the keyboard, and she took a deep breath, like the magic was running through her fingertips at the touch.

  This was the woman in my bed every night, the woman who made music every time she moaned for me. Her cries were ethereal, bringing a heavenly light into my previously dim home. When we met, she despised me and I despised her. But somehow, we brought out the best in each other. She made me more compassionate, and I taught her to shoot like a professional.

  I took a drink as I waited for her to play, watched her struggle with her anxiety even though she knew she was a pro. Her voice could shatter crystal, and her fingers could create the most beautiful music in the world.

  She finally started to play.

  The sound of the piano filled the room, a tune that began slowly. Once she added her voice to the song, it instantly became a masterpiece. “Summer, bright as day. You took my hand and wiped my tears away. Leaving a past that haunts and stepping into a future so dark. I felt myself slip. I felt myself fall. But you caught me…after all.” Her fingers danced across the keyboard faster as she headed into the chorus. “With arms that never let me go, a thumb perfect for the spilled tears, you’re the man who completes me. The man who owns me. The man who loves me.”

  The crowd was silent as they watched her, affected by her music like it was a spell. The chitchat disappeared because her music was so enchanting. It splashed images in everyone’s mind, added to the ambiance of the low-burning candles and flutes of champagne.

  “When I lost my way, the meadow become so dark. Flowers turned to thorns and winds turned to storms. Like a lone sheep, timid and afraid, I stood alone. Alone. Little did I know, he was always there. Warm coffee on a winter morning, his eyes like drops of chocolate. He was always there…even if I never knew.” She didn’t look up from the piano and became lost in the song, playing like she didn’t know any of us were there at all. “With arms that never let me go, a thumb perfect for the spilled tears, you’re the man who completes me. The man who owns me. The man who loves me.”

  Heads started to turn in the crowd, searching for my reaction. Several people had the same idea, so they all turned toward me.

  She continued to play. “I can see the stars when he lifts me into the air. I can feel my fragile heartbeat when he comes near. My past is forgotten, buried in the ground. My maiden name is erased as he conquers. Cold sheets used to touch my chest, but now a deep heartbeat keeps the pace of my dreams.”

  More heads turned my way.

  She went into the chorus one more. “With arms that never let me go, a thumb perfect for the spilled tears, you’re the man who completes me. The man who owns me. The man who loves me. With a heart that will never let you go, lips perfect for yours, I’m the woman who completes you. I’m the woman who loves you.” Her fingers hit a few more keys before the song ended. Silence filled the room, and now, most of the attention was directed at me.

  I continued to stare straight ahead and refused to look at the ground. All eyes were on me, and I squeezed my glass a little tighter, uncomfortable with the unwanted attention.

  People finally started to applaud for her, and the attention was taken off me.

  I downed the rest of my scotch and set it on a passing tray.

  Arwen stood up, and the applause grew louder.

  I turned around and walked off, the cacophony of noise like nails against a chalkboard. The lights suddenly felt too bright, the collar around my neck too tight. I found the front door and stepped into the cold air, letting the sting of coming winter lower the heat the exploded in my blood.

  The second the breeze touched my skin, I felt a little better.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  19

  Arwen

  I spent the next hour taking questions about my music. The crowd surrounded me, and I didn’t have an opportunity to find Maverick. I assumed he would come to my side, but he never showed up.

  “That was a beautiful song.” A woman I didn’t even know rested her hand over her heart. “It takes me back to when Victor and I first got married. Maverick must have been very touched
.”

  I hoped he was. “Thank you. Please excuse me.” I parted the crowd and ignored people’s questions as I searched for Maverick. He didn’t seem to be anywhere in the main room, and since all the men wore black suits, he was difficult to spot. It was warm in there, so I decided to check outside.

  There he was, drinking a glass of scotch while he let the nighttime air lick the sweat off his skin. He stood alone as he looked across the perfectly manicured lawn of the historic estate. The valet and other workers were there, but the rest of the guests were still inside.

  I walked up to him, instantly cold once I wasn’t in the protective bubble of heat the house provided. “There you are. It’s hot in there, huh?”

  “A bit.” He finished the rest of his glass and handed it to a waiter as he passed. “Ready to go?”

  He didn’t compliment my performance. He didn’t even look at me. Both hands were in his pockets now, so he had no intention of blanketing me with his usual affection. Just an hour ago, we were husband and wife. Now we were something akin to strangers. “Everything alright?”

  “Yeah.” He caught the valet’s attention to retrieve the car.

  The man took off at a run as Maverick walked toward the roundabout driveway with the large fountain in the center. He didn’t take my hand and guide me down the stairs.

  I followed behind him, feeling like a dog that got her nose slapped. “Why are you being like this?”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, for starters, you haven’t looked at me.”

  The valet pulled up with the black Bugatti then tossed the keys to Maverick.

  Maverick caught them. “I know what you look like.” He opened the passenger door for me then moved to the other side.

  I was so shocked by what he said that it took a second for me to move my feet and get inside the car.

  Maverick drove off, driving far faster than necessary and speeding back to the house like he was racing against time.

  I looked out the window, refusing to believe this was really happening. “I’m so disappointed in you… I thought we’d moved past this.”

  Maverick didn’t acknowledge what I said. He kept his eyes on the road, both hands on the wheel even though he usually only drove with one. He didn’t bother glancing in the rearview mirror and drove as fast as he could, wanting to get away from me as quickly as possible.

  I wanted to slap him.

  We returned to the house several awkward minutes later. We pulled into the garage then entered the house.

  He was on a mission to get away from me. He didn’t wait for me to catch up, even though my ridiculous heels made it impossible for me to match his stride. He entered the entryway and approached the stairs.

  “Maverick.”

  He stopped on the bottom step but didn’t turn around.

  “You need to get over this bullshit. Be a man and buck up.”

  He slowly turned around, one hand resting in his pocket. It was the first time he’d really looked at me since I finished my song. Like we were back in time, he stared at me like he hated me. It was six months ago, and he despised having to welcome me into this house. “Get over what bullshit?”

  “Your bullshit. This all goes back to your inability to accept affection, love, even a damn compliment. The second you get something, you pull away. Be a man and accept what I said. Be a bigger man and say it back.”

  His eyes shifted back and forth quickly as he looked at me, his body rigid with anger.

  Was I stupid for assuming he was ready for this? Our feelings for each other were so obvious. Kamikaze was gone, and not once had he asked me to leave. I’d never tried to go either. We were together every night, ditching the condoms and making love as husband and wife. Did he really fail to grasp all of that? Hearing that someone loved him really scared him that much? “I’m not going to go away, Maverick. I’m not going to die, disappear, or turn my back on you.” I wasn’t going to become a thing of the past like his family. I was there to stay—forever. I was Mrs. DeVille, and I was staying that way. There was no one else I wanted to be with, and there was no one else he wanted to be with. We were together—until death parted us.

  Without answering, Maverick turned around and walked up the stairs. His strong frame carried him to the second landing smoothly, and then he turned to take the steps up to his bedroom.

  I stayed at the bottom in my pink dress, feeling abandoned and forgotten. That night started so beautifully, but then I expressed my feelings in the best song I’ve ever written, and it scared him.

  I should be livid at his reaction.

  Pussy.

  But if he wanted to act that way, that was fine with me. He could take all the time he needed to sulk in his bedroom and brood while he was at the office. After he finished throwing his hissy fit, he would come to his senses and ask forgiveness.

  And I would have a hell of a time making him earn it.

  I stayed in my room all day and didn’t bother venturing to other parts of the house. Maverick would make sure he didn’t cross my path. He would take his meals in his office and avoid me like the plague.

  Asshole.

  I was hurt that I’d put my feelings on display and he’d shot me down so coldly. Those lyrics came from my heart. They were real, and I didn’t regret writing them down. I didn’t regret composing that song.

  I just wished Maverick would let go of his issues.

  Losing the love of his family messed him up badly. His father was an ultimate asshole, so Maverick was incapable of accepting love, only insults. His shell had hardened so much that nothing could penetrate his exterior while his guard was up.

  I thought his guard wasn’t up around me.

  I thought we were closer than that.

  He could pretend he was incredulous about my feelings, but that was bullshit.

  And he could pretend he didn’t feel that too…but that was also bullshit.

  In time, he would come to his senses. I just had to be patient.

  I watched TV for most of the day then wrote music for the second part of the afternoon. I was hurt by his reaction, so it was the perfect time to compose something raw, a deep catharsis. Loving a man incapable of love was quite the task to take on.

  But I was willing to try.

  When night deepened, my impatience started to get the best of me. We weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend who lived separate lives in different places. We were husband and wife, two people with the same last name.

  We shouldn’t be acting like this.

  He should be the bigger man and come to my bedroom. Even if he didn’t want to talk, we should still be sleeping together. We should be screaming at each other but making love when it was all over.

  Now that I had a husband I adored, that was exactly what I wanted to do…for the rest of my life.

  I left my bedroom and headed down the hall to take the stairs. I knew Maverick felt the same way; he was just incapable of accepting love without any demands in return. He wasn’t used to someone caring about him for him…and nothing else. Maybe I needed to be patient. Maybe I needed to hold his hand and get him through this. The man had put a gun to his forehead and pulled the trigger several times for me…of course he loved me.

  I’d almost reached the staircase when I heard a woman laughing.

  “No wonder why you’re in such good shape if you walk up these stairs every day.”

  I stopped in my tracks because it wasn’t Abigail or one of the maids. She sounded trashy, like a dumb girl he’d just picked up at the bar. But that couldn’t be true because Maverick would never do that to me.

  Then I heard someone else. “I bet you could carry both of us up the stairs.”

  I heard Maverick’s chuckle. It was deep, masculine, and sexy.

  My heart fell into my stomach as my knees went weak. The ring on my left hand suddenly felt too tight, constricting the blood flow to all the body parts that needed it right now. I wanted to turn around and walk away, but I wanted Maverick
to see my reaction, to let that look haunt him for the rest of his life.

  He made it to the top of the stairs, a beautiful woman on each arm. “Your asses are gonna be a little plumper after this trip.”

  Both girls laughed because it was so funny.

  My brain didn’t react right away because it was sensory overload. My worst nightmare was looking me right in the face—and I didn’t know it was my worst nightmare until it actually happened. Not once had we confirmed our commitment to each other, but it seemed so obvious that it didn’t need to be said. We were together now…husband and wife. This felt like a betrayal.

  It was infidelity.

  Maverick turned the corner with the girls, not noticing me standing there.

  I knew he wasn’t trying to sneak around. He didn’t care whether he got caught or not.

  But I wanted him to know I was there. I wanted him to see the heartbreak in my eyes, to know he’d fucked this up permanently. “Maverick.”

  He stopped before the bottom step and barely turned his head to look at me. His arms stayed on the girls, like his allegiance was to him and not me.

  Tears were hot in my throat, but I refused to let them rise to my eyes. If Maverick wanted to stoop this low, he wasn’t worth my tears. If love made him do something stupid like this, then maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe what we had wasn’t love.

  Maybe it’d never been love.

  He held my gaze, his brown eyes like two solid walls. He wasn’t letting anything inside his emotional armor. I could be in tears right now, and he wouldn’t give a damn.

  That was why I saved my breath and didn’t say a word. Nothing mattered in that moment.

  He didn’t care.

  So why should I?

  20

  Maverick

  I sat at the breakfast table with my black coffee in front of me. Bags were under my eyes, and the remnants of sleep wouldn’t leave the crevasses. I was exhausted from the long night, but it was impossible to keep sleeping. The two girls took up all the space in the bed, and they kicked me every few minutes.