by Ellie Hall
With that handsome face.
Those copper-brown eyes.
The lazy grin.
His commanding presence.
She felt like a cat who’d found a ball of yarn and tied itself up in knots instead of being the stiff-backed, square-shouldered headmistress who untangled problems.
Never had someone twisted her up like that. There was something dangerously attractive about him but equally obnoxious. She knew she shouldn’t play his games, but if he was going to challenge her, she’d show up to win.
He was used to winning and gliding through life from football games to adoring fans and women to public appearances where everything was handed to him.
She had to work for everything she had. As she settled in her suite for the night, she wasn’t about to let one cocky and stubborn football player slip through the cracks because he only wanted to play games where he knew he’d win. She’d make him learn the rules of engagement when it came to etiquette and successfully passing her program. She’d make him earn his right to pass.
Despite wanting nothing to do with attraction or romance or love, later that night she couldn’t get his smile out of her head.
It had nothing to do with the attraction hammering between them in the dining room—the kind that came in waves of hot, cold, hot cold.
It wasn’t because when she looked at him beyond appearances, she saw something she recognized in herself. Things she’d left in Russia when she’d decided to leave.
Growing up, all Katerina had known was dance and her ex, Ivan.
Dance, she loved. However, the harder her parents and coaches pushed, the less it gave back to her.
Ivan, she hated. Her parents forced her to be with him because they had visions of the pair as ballet celebrities.
She turned over, hoping to erase the image of Connor from her mind because it wasn’t love or hate she felt for him. It was something else that she couldn’t quite define. Interest? Attraction? She fluffed her pillows, wanting to go to sleep. She kicked off the blankets in frustration because it was like he’d imprinted himself in her mind.
Katerina grabbed her phone from the night table to check the time. It was well past midnight. She checked the weather for the next day and then reviewed her schedule. Her finger slid to her social media account. She scrolled through and landed on a photo of her cousin Nadia with her latest catch—a football player for the Miami Riptide.
Without giving herself a chance to talk herself out of it, she searched Connor Wolfe. Then she remembered his username was @ChicksDigWolves. She rolled her eyes. He was so self-absorbed. His latest post had a timestamp of less than an hour before. It was a selfie of him propped up on a bed with a wooden headboard—an antique she recognized from his suite upstairs. His head was cradled in his hand and his biceps popped. The smirk he wore was downright delicious. Dark lashes lowered partway revealing the same gaze from earlier. It was as though he was looking right at her. She shivered even though she was warm.
Katerina’s breath caught and she dropped her phone onto the bed as a smoldering feeling lit inside her blood. The fire had been ignited. The boats burned.
The grin he wore was like he’d already won the war. Little did he know of her fortitude and resilience. And that she would fight to the death even with someone aggravatingly and agonizingly handsome.
Despite the long day and still unable to sleep, Katerina decided to make productive use of her time. She crept down to her office. Living in the same building where she worked had its benefits and drawbacks. She could catch up on work whenever she wanted, but that also meant she tended to work more often since there wasn’t a distinct line between home and office. Given what appeared to be a dire financial crisis faced by the school, she’d been doing more of that than she’d like.
While in the hall, for a moment she thought she heard murmuring, but it was probably the wind or the old building shifting. She’d once had a student who was convinced the manor was haunted and slept with all the lights on. Arthur tried to assure the woman that it wasn’t, but once the idea had been planted, from time to time, Katerina had the thought that someone, or rather something, was sneaking around.
As usual, her office door was open. She figured that locks wouldn’t keep ghosts out anyway. She flipped on the light and when she sat down, her computer came to life. A tab was open to an account used for reaching out to Blancbourg alumni. That was odd. She hadn’t logged in. Typically, she sent the invitations in early spring for the annual alumni luncheon—although given circumstances she’d probably have to postpone it until they had more funds.
Katerina sighed and after tidying her desk, she flipped through the print outs Regina had given her. Both women had access to all the accounts related to the school’s finances even though Regina primarily took care of them. But Katerina was determined to find where they could cut the budget to come up with that thirty-four-thousand-dollar number Regina indicated they needed without eliminating any more employees—especially Arthur.
Katerina dreamed that she was in the forest. Wolves surrounded her, each with gleaming copper eyes. They crept closer, closing in on her. One, in particular, didn’t take its eyes from her as it stalked near and then it lifted its head and howled. Only the howling wasn’t the watch out, we’re wild kind. Rather, it was a lamenting keen, filled with desire and resonance. It made her feel like she was missing something—just as she’d said Connor was in response to his comment about being the total package. Then the howling turned into the blaring of an alarm and she shot to sitting.
Ordinarily, Katerina rose before her alarm and only used it as a precaution so she didn’t accidentally oversleep, but after being up late going over the bookkeeping, she was exhausted. However, she told Connor she’d meet him at seven sharp and she’d be on time if not early.
Tangled in the sheets, she scrambled out of bed. As her feet hit the cold wood floor, she bumped her shin on a table leg, remembering she hadn’t had a chance to make sure her furniture was exactly in place after she’d moved it the morning before so she could dance.
A heaviness formed in her belly as she limped to the bathroom. She drank some water, willing the unpleasant sensation away. The day before was for addressing the past and the decision she’d made. It was for her to be sure she’d made the right one. Usually, she’d clear the space, don her ballet attire, dance for an hour, and be satisfied she wasn’t training morning and night, pushing her body to its limits to please her ballet master and coaches. Then she’d go about her day, confident she’d done the right thing by giving up her career and going to college.
But how would she know if she’d made the wrong decision? Unlike the Blancbourg program, there wasn’t an evaluation to complete, a form to fill out, or a letter she’d receive indicating she was passing or failing at life. Would the knowledge that she’d made the wrong decision feel like something?
She left all her emotions behind when she’d departed Russia. The same feeling from her dream when the wolf had howled filled her chest. She realized then that the wolf dream wasn’t about the ones that lived in the forest, at least not entirely, but about Connor...and maybe her.
Getting ready quickly and throwing on a pair of trousers, a blouse, and heels, she hurried to the meeting place.
Connor was waiting there already, standing at attention and with his hands clasped. His hair was a bit wild like he hadn’t bothered to fix it—then again, she’d gathered that was the standard look of the Boston Bruisers. They all had facial hair in various stages of development—mostly beards—, unkempt hair, tattoos, and wore jeans and hoodies with the team’s logo.
He focused on something out the window and only moved when the clicking of her heels on the granite floor stopped beside him.
“Good morning, Mr. Wolfe,” she said.
“Good morning, Ms. Kuznetsova.”
“Well done. Have you been practicing?” People rarely got her last name right on the first try not to mention the night before, he’d a
nnoyingly been calling her Kat. She checked the agenda for the day.
“I trust you had pleasant dreams,” he said.
She forced herself not to flick her gaze to his. “Actually, no,” she ground out.
“Pity.” His smug expression didn’t suggest compassion.
“Yourself? This old building has been around for a long time and with that comes plenty of ghost stories.”
He shifted his weight. “Is that so? May I ask what you do when you can’t sleep?”
“A hazard of this job is my office is located downstairs from my suite so oftentimes I work.”
“You don’t go online, scroll social media...watch cute videos about dogs?”
She shook her head slowly, catching his meaning. He was fishing to see if she’d seen the photo he’d posted on his account @ChicksDigWolves. “Nope.” She’d never tell him the truth.
He raised and lowered his eyebrows as she started down the hall.
They paused outside a wooden door with a brass sign that said salon. She took a deep breath and held it open for Connor.
“Good morning, Shonda,” she said to a woman who was organizing a shelf with beauty products. “I have your latest victim. I mean client. This is Connor Wolfe. Mr. Wolfe, please meet our staff stylist.”
The woman tossed her naturally curly hair and approached, looking him up and down. “My, my. What are we going to do with you?”
“What do you mean stylist? Victim?” he asked, taking a step backward.
Katerina cut her eyes at him. “You mean to say, ‘Good morning, Shonda. It’s lovely to make your acquaintance.”
He dutifully repeated her words.
“I see you have him trained well,” Shonda said.
“Working on it.”
She surveyed his appearance a moment longer. “I think we can work with this. But first things first, the man bun has got to go.”
He backed all the way to the door.
“This is part of the program you signed up for,” Katerina said.
“I didn’t sign up for this. It wasn’t my choice to come here,” he fired back.
Shonda cast her a look that said is he for real?
“Actually, your actions have consequences. Your coach gave you a choice: come to Blancbourg, pass, and stay on the team, or, well, you could quit.” She knew he’d come back with fists flying after that comment.
“I’m not a quitter. It ain’t over ‘til we’ve won.”
“In that case, get your butt in the chair,” Shonda said, indicating the swiveled seat in front of a long mirror. She flashed him a smile as though she too had seen the photo of Boston-Bruiser-backside from the newspaper.
“I don’t see why this is necessary.”
“The only way you’re going to win is by cleaning up your appearance and your attitude. I can help you with one. Katerina can with the other, but you have to do the work.” Shonda leaned close to Katerina. “Are they all like this?”
Katerina nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
While Shonda worked, cutting Connor’s hair, trimming his beard, and giving him a manicure and pedicure, Katerina instructed him in the importance of hygiene and grooming.
“I’m not an actual caveman,” he said. “I brush, floss, and—”
Shonda spun the chair, cutting him off before revealing his new look in the mirror. His gaze flicked to his reflection.
Katerina quickly wiped the smile from her face.
“I did a marvelous job if I do say so.” Shonda smirked.
“I guess I clean up good,” he said, smiling smugly at himself.
When Katerina saw her reflection, it looked like she’d eaten a lemon. It was that difficult to keep the grin from lips.
That Shonda did a marvelous job and that Connor cleaned up good were understatements.
Freshly shaven, bright-eyed, and with a haircut that left a little messy bit at the top made him look like he’d stepped out of a magazine, off a runaway, or red carpet. He didn’t look like the gritty football player she’d met the day before. Granted, she’d had a sense that he was good looking. Okay, she couldn’t lie, he was devastatingly handsome, but the transformation made her bitter. It was no fair that someone with such a cocky attitude could also be so attractive. It was deceptive because his personality didn’t match the exterior.
He pressed up from the salon chair and brushed the hair just above his ears before straightening and turning to the two women. “I may clean up good but I’ll always be dirty.” He laughed privately.
Katerina went into a full pucker. “Please don’t say things like that, Mr. Wolfe. It’s unbecoming.”
Shonda laughed as though their dynamic was adorable. She turned to Katerina. “I may be married, but you’re not. I’d get on that asap.”
Katerina shook her head. “What we will be getting on is proper attire. Next up, the tailor.”
Connor rolled his eyes. “If I must, but anything between us,” he said in Shonda’s direction as he wagged his finger between himself and Katerina, “it would never happen.”
“Why’s that?” Shonda asked.
Katerina braced herself for the answer.
“You’re both single, attractive, and stubborn as all get out—sorry, boss. Just speaking the truth, but I’d say it’s the perfect match.”
Katerina valued Shonda’s talent and enjoyed her personality—she was friendly, fun, and cheerful. She knew nothing was meant by her comment, but firmly disagreed.
“We could never be together because wolves, well dogs, and cats are natural enemies. But in the meantime, we could have a little fun,” he said with a gleam in his eye that was directed at Katerina.
“Well, you’ll have to keep your pants on, Connor. Apparently, no one here wants to see a full moon.” Shonda winked at Katerina and then whispered, “I mean, unless that’s your thing.”
Connor laughed.
She refused to rise to his baiting. “Thank you, Shonda. On our agenda, we have lunch, the tailor then Mr. Wolfe’s first lesson.” She knew exactly what it was going to be. “Also, you’ll be meeting with your trainer later.”
After a tense meal, during which Katerina had to restrain herself from looking too long at Connor’s makeover, and a trip to the tailor, where she had to avoid looking at the cut of his muscles, she led him to a classroom. They sat opposite each other at a table.
“Today we’re going to discuss sensitivity when it comes to women.” Her tone was flat. To the point. She was tired of his comments and it was clear, after looking at his social media feed, that he spent a lot of time dating a lot of different women.
“I think I know my way around the ladies, thank you very much.”
“Your way is flawed.”
He tucked his chin. “I’ve been with top models, actresses, and beautiful women of all types.”
“Yes. I am aware. Your way is insulting. Your way is revolting.”
“That’s not what they tell me.”
“Beauty isn’t everything and neither is quantity, Mr. Wolfe.”
“What could you possibly teach me, Kat?” He leaned forward, casting a net of tension her way.
She met him halfway, narrowing the space between them. She had little experience with men, but above all, she wanted to be respected, treated with dignity, honesty, and care. “Do you have any siblings?”
He shook his head.
“Imagine that you have a sister, a cousin, a girl in your life who you feel protective over. She’s sweet, innocent, and then some meathead clown decides it’s the day he’s going to defile her mind with a clear view of his backside. No, make that four geniuses who think it would be funny to—”
“Are you talking about moon-gate? The commissioner’s daughter? We didn’t know she’d be there.”
“She has a name.”
“Elyse Starkowsky.”
“That’s better, but all the same.”
“Oh, come on. It was a harmless prank.”
“Harmless? How so? Now you’re
here.”
He leaned back a fraction. “I suppose you have a point and because I don’t want to endure more of this conversation, I’ll concede. I won’t moon anyone ever again unless I have their consent.” The gleam returned to his eyes as his gaze shifted and lingered on her folders with color-coded tabs. “My, you’re organized.”
“It helps to have a system.”
“It must be exhausting, running this place. What with waking up in the middle of the night, working, and having to deal with guys like me.”
“Yes, it’s true, but it also has its rewards.” She fought off a yawn. He was right, she was tired.
“Are you European?” he asked. “Don’t they have something called a fiesta, siesta, or something?”
“Two different things. But yes, in some countries, there is a time of rest and restoration built into the day. I’m originally from Russia.” She didn’t know why she was chatting. Maybe she was more tired than she thought or perhaps it was the turkey sandwich at lunch.
Connor clapped his hands together. “What else do we have on the docket today?”
She checked the schedule. “You’ll be meeting with the trainer this afternoon,” she said, relieved because that meant she could take a quick, twenty-minute power nap.
As they left the room and parted ways in the hall, she couldn’t help but feel like his gaze, with the gleam in his eyes, followed her until she turned the corner.
Chapter 6
Connor
Moon-gate notwithstanding, Connor was always respectful to women. He just didn’t do second dates, callbacks, texts, or snuggling. He wasn’t that kind of guy. At least that’s what he’d always told himself.
Granted, Katerina had a point about substance and personality being as important than beauty if not more so. However, he’d never wanted a relationship so it hadn’t mattered before. He didn’t need the lecture. But he understood it was part of the program.
However, the part he resented was the makeover. Freshly showered after breezing through the workout, he glanced in a gilded mirror as he strode down the broad hallway of the school. There was no denying he looked sharp, dapper even. The shave and the finely tailored suit were an improvement over his favorite hoodie, but there was no way he’d get dressed up every day. He didn’t quite feel like himself—then again, he hadn’t since landing at Kat’s school.