Operation Wolf: Gunner ~ Sedona Venez

by Venez, Sedona

  She eyed me carefully. “I think you ought to see for yourself.”

  Sighing in exasperation, I followed her down the steps and into the living room. I stopped short at the sight of Celine standing just inside the front door, clutching her handbag in both hands and biting down on her lower lip.

  She straightened when she saw me, but I noticed her death grip on her bag. Subdued and obviously nervous, she bore little resemblance to the feisty, confident, and sexy vixen who’d beguiled me back at the club. Yet my heart ached at the sight of her. I longed to pull her into my arms and smooth the lines of stress from her face.

  Instead, my jaw tightened as I stood at the foot of the stairs. “How did you find me, Celine?”

  She smiled faintly. “You can do a lot with a name and place of employment, Mr. Norcross.” She cleared her throat. “I’d like a few minutes of your time, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  She’s so damn stiff. So formal. Who the hell is this woman? And what did she do with the real Celine?

  “I don’t think so,” I grunted. “You need to leave.”

  “Gunner!” Emily scolded, giving me a reproachful glare. “How incredibly rude.” She turned to Celine with a warm smile, catching me off guard. “Why don’t you have a seat? And I’ll get you a cup of tea.”

  She bustled off before I could say a word, and I gaped after her, openmouthed.

  Doesn’t she know that Celine is a wolf-shifter? And why the hell is she being so nice to her?

  She should be railing at me for bringing the trouble she’d warned me about into her house and threatening to kick me to the curb.

  “So, are you just going to completely ignore me?” Celine inquired.

  I turned to stare at her. She was now perched on one of the love seats, her back straight and her hands folded neatly on her lap, but a glimmer of heat in her eyes told me that the woman who’d turned me inside out on Friday night wasn’t completely lost and buried within the elegant, refined socialite who sat before me now.

  “I haven’t exactly come here without risk to myself, you know,” she finished.

  I ignored her words. “Where is your boyfriend?” I asked abruptly, glancing over to the window.

  If Carter followed her here . . . I would beat his ass like he stole something.

  I sighed heavily. But I couldn’t let Jimmy or Emily get caught up in all of this dramatic, reality show bullshit.

  “Carter is meeting with his lawyers now,” Celine confessed stiffly. She glanced toward the kitchen, lowering her voice. “Do you think there’s somewhere more . . . private we can speak?”

  I scoured her face for any hint of an ulterior motive, but I couldn’t find one. I had to admit, this wasn’t a conversation I wanted Emily to overhear. Nor did I want Jimmy walking in to find Celine sitting on his couch when he returned home. He’d gone back to work as soon as he dropped me off. And I didn’t know why Emily was so keen for me to talk to Celine, but it was clear she wasn’t going to allow me to kick Celine the fuck out until we talked, so I simply nodded tersely and led her upstairs to my room.

  “So, this is where you spend most of your time?” she asked, sitting on the edge of my mattress as I closed the door behind us.

  It did strange, unspeakable things to my insides to see her sitting on my bed. I fought the urge to push her back onto the sheets to see if round two would be just as mind-blowing as the other night.

  But I thought better of it.

  “When I’m not working, yeah.” I crossed over to the wall opposite the foot of the bed and leaned against it, tucking my body into the corner. The more distance I could put between us, the better. “Figured that going out would only get me into trouble. Guess I was right.” I gave her a pointed look.

  She dropped her eyes. “I’m sorry about that,” she stated quietly, fisting her hands in her lap.

  Her fingernails had been repainted a pale pink, I noticed, one that suited her current look much better than the fiery red talons she’d scored my back with while she screamed my name over and over.

  “You told me you were visiting from out of town, so I thought it would be safe. If I’d known you actually lived here . . .”

  “You would have found another tourist to cheat on your boyfriend with?” I asked sharply.

  She jerked her chin up.

  “Well, I feel so much better about that shit,” I continued, sarcasm dripping from every word.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Carter’s not my boyfriend,” she snapped, clenching her fists. “And for the record, I don’t just run around town, having sex with guys.”

  “Oh, so I’m a special case, then?” I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t buying this sweet and innocent act for a second. “That’s great to know. So, if the guy who nearly ripped my throat out today wasn’t your boyfriend, then what exactly is he? The protector of your damn virtue?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Celine snapped, her proper demeanor slipping. “He’s . . . well, I guess you could say he’s my fiancé . . . sort of.”

  I threw up my hands. “This is bullshit! That asshole is your fiancé!” It was a statement, not a question. “That shit is even worse than being your boyfriend. I had a one-night stand with the fiancée of one of MoMA’s primary benefactors twenty-four hours before my first real day of work. Fuck! Lady Fate really knows how to play her cards.”

  “He’s not my fiancé!” Celine shouted as she came off the bed, rapidly closing the distance between us. Catching herself, she backed up a pace and added more quietly, “Although I promised myself to him . . . the shit is . . . complicated.”

  I snorted. “So, he’s not your boyfriend. And he’s not your fiancé,” I answered. My emotions were warring between the desire to strangle her or pull her close to me. “Can you please tell me why the hell you’re explaining all this and why I should even give a shit?”

  Celine ran a hand through her hair, causing some of her dark curls to spill free from her carefully styled updo. My fingers twitched, wanting to run my hands through her tresses, but I curled them into fists at my sides instead.

  “The truth is, I don’t want to marry him. But if I don’t, he’s going to destroy my dad’s company, and he’ll lose everything.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, and her eyes were fixed on a square of carpet near my left foot. “Friday night was just supposed to be one last night of freedom before I gave myself over to Carter. I never expected to meet you or for it to turn out like this.”

  Anger surged through me, though for a change, it wasn’t directed at Celine but at the man who was manipulating her. “How the hell is he going to destroy your father’s company?”

  Celine sighed. “Carter owns a great deal of our stock, which is being held for him by a large number of different people scattered across the globe. If I don’t agree to marry him, he’ll sell it all, and my dad’s company value will drop drastically.”

  “But that shit is blackmail,” I protested. “Surely, you can just report something like this to the police, can’t you?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Carter is too damn powerful. The authorities wouldn’t be able to take direct action against him without something more substantial than my word. I hired a private investigator about a month ago to look into Carter, but so far, he hasn’t been able to find anything tangible we can use. Carter’s just too good at covering his tracks.”

  “Damn.” I clenched my fists. “I wish there were something I could do to help you.”

  Celine smiled faintly. “It’s not your problem to solve,” she muttered. “And I’ve done enough damage by putting you on Carter’s radar. Gunner . . . I just came by to apologize for what I did. And to tell you that I’ll make sure Carter steers clear of you. You don’t deserve all the drama involved with my problems.”

  Her apology should have made me feel better. Instead, I felt helpless and like shit.

  “You don’t have to apologize for anything,” I insisted. “None of this is your fault, and you’re dealing with it a lot better than mos
t women I know would be.”

  “But . . .”

  Whatever she was going to say was cut off as I gathered her up into my arms and kissed her, drowning in her sweet scent and taste. She moaned, her arms tightening around me, and relief spread through me because she was finally back in my arms. Then, lust that was so powerful ripped through me, and I nearly backed her onto the bed and stripped her clothes off.

  What is it about this woman that makes me feel so damn hungry? So damn possessive? Shit. I’d never felt this way about anyone before, not even Julia.

  “I spent all yesterday looking for you,” I confessed, breaking the kiss so I could stare down at her. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head, and I don’t understand why.”

  I bent my head down to kiss her again, but this time, she turned her head away, so my mouth landed on her cheek.

  “Gunner . . . we shouldn’t do this.”

  “Why not?” I murmured, trailing kisses across her jawline and down the graceful column of her neck.

  Her voice barely penetrated through the fog of lust clouding my brain. And, damn, she smelled so good. All I could think of was having more of her in any position I could possibly get her into.

  “I . . .” Her breath caught as I pushed up her skirt, sliding my hand underneath.

  My cock hardened as my fingers brushed against her wet panties. The smell of her arousal was pleasing and heady.

  Wasting no time, I slipped my hand beneath the waistband of her panties to touch her. “Just tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll stop.”

  Another moan escaped her lips, and I was about to slip a finger inside her tight cunt.

  “Gunner, stop,” she sobbed, her body trembling in my arms.

  I snatched my hand back as though her pussy had scalded me.

  Celine took the opportunity to put some distance between us, her eyes glowing and her chest heaving. “I can’t do this. If Carter smells you on me, he’ll know where I’ve been, and there’s no telling what he’ll do.”

  “Fuck,” I growled. “You have to leave. If you don’t, I can’t be responsible for what happens next.”

  Celine nodded and fixed her hair before moving toward the door. Gritting my teeth, I fought the compulsion to catch her by the wrist, to drag her back into my arms and never, ever let her go. The urge was ridiculously strong and confused the shit out of me.

  “Celine . . .” I began.

  She paused, one foot already across the threshold.

  “I talked to a friend about what happened between us on Friday night. So, tell me the truth. Am I your true mate?”

  She slowly turned her head to look at me, and my heart stuttered at the tears running down her cheeks.

  “Yes,” she croaked in an achingly soft whisper. “And I’m so sorry that I did this to you.”

  And then she was gone . . . out of my bedroom and out of my life forever.

  CHAPTER 13

  Celine

  “CELINE? DARLING, WHAT’S WRONG?” Carter inquired.

  Closing my eyes, I polished off the wine in my glass and then lowered it as I stared across the limousine interior to where Carter was reclined, his eyes glimmering in the darkness.

  “Nothing,” I answered before crossing my legs and trying to assume a languid pose of my own. “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, that’s your fifth glass of wine tonight,” Carter pointed out, raising an eyebrow as he glanced to my empty glass. “I don’t usually see you drink so much.”

  My lips curved into a smile that I knew didn’t reach my eyes. “It’s simply cold out tonight, and the wine keeps me warm.”

  “You’re chilly? Why didn’t you just say so?” Leaning over, Carter pressed a button on the wall, and the privacy screen between the driver and us slid down. “Jared, please turn up the heat.”

  “Yes, sir.” The privacy screen rose again, and the warm air issuing from the air vents suddenly intensified. “Is that better?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  I bit my lip, looking out the window and wishing I hadn’t spoken at all, as the interior of the car quickly grew stuffy. It didn’t help when Carter leaned across the space between us and took my left hand into his.

  “I’m so happy you finally agreed to set a date for our mating ceremony,” he murmured, rubbing the pad of his thumb across the yellow princess-cut diamond that glimmered on my ring finger. “The ring looks absolutely stunning on you.”

  My pulse jumped—not in lust, but in anger. “Apparently. I’ve gotten many compliments on it,” I replied, struggling against the urge to withdraw my hand from his and wiping any trace of his touch on my clothes.

  “As you should.” He grinned devilishly.

  The fucker was enjoying tormenting me. I knew he was relishing the fact that he now held me submissive to him, especially when I desired to be anything but.

  “And I’ve also received lots of well wishes and congratulations,” I concluded.

  “We are, after all, the perfect pair.”

  He brushed his lips against my skin, and a shiver of revulsion rippled up my spine. I’d thought I’d gotten used to the feel of his skin against mine, but ever since I’d slept with Gunner, I’d hardly been able to tolerate Carter’s touch. My inner wolf and my body instinctively screamed out against the wrongness of someone other than my true mate—Gunner—touching me. But there was nothing I could do about it.

  Carter practically owned me now . . . body and soul.

  We pulled up to Carter’s building in the bustling Financial District located in the Seaport area of Manhattan. I’d been here only once before with him, before he’d first proposed to me. Back then, we’d taken his yacht out for the day and then come back to his place to enjoy dinner on his terrace while watching the sun set over the horizon.

  Strange, how an incredibly romantic setting can feel so wrong when you’re with someone you don’t even like.

  We both stepped out of the limo, and I took his arm, allowing him to lead me into the building, then the elevator. Once we’d arrived on his floor, we entered into his full-floor, designer loft apartment. It was much the same as it had been the last time I was there. Casually, I glanced around the living room as Carter took my coat. Everything in his place was done in black and white, from white leather furniture to the black lacquered coffee and side tables, seamlessly blending in with the black marble floors. It suited Carter’s personality perfectly. He was gloom and doom.

  “Why don’t you sit down?” he suggested, bringing me a glass of red wine. “I’ll just go ahead and fetch your gift.”

  I did as he’d suggested, trying not to allow the wine glass to shake in my hand as I brought it to my lips. I knew I’d never hear the end of it if I spilled one drop on Carter’s pristine couch. Looking out the bay window behind the dining room table on the other side of the room, I tried not to cringe in apprehension of what his gift might be. Over dinner, Carter had told me he’d bought me something but that he wanted to give it to me at his apartment. This was the sole reason I hadn’t been able to simply beg off from even coming here, going to my own home afterward.

  The tapping of his footsteps on the floor drew my attention away from the view, and I turned to see Carter approaching me with a long, expensive-looking black box in his hand. The kind that trendy, upscale boutiques used to gift wrap clothing in.

  Shit.

  Dread pooled in my belly at the broad smile on his face, and I hesitantly took the box from him.

  “Well?” He loomed over me, clearly not willing to let me deliberate. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

  Carefully, I removed the box lid and set it aside. Then I lifted a lacy black negligee from the gold tissue paper. The fabric was sheer along the stomach and where my nipples would show, and pale pink flowers were embroidered along the bust and the hem.

  “I’m not entirely sure this gift is for me,” I remarked slowly, barely holding back the rage that wanted to suffuse my voice.

  Rip it to shreds!
my beast demanded. Who does this asshole think he is, buying us something so . . . inappropriate? We don’t even want him.

  I sighed heavily. Resigned to my fate, I replied back to my inner wolf, It’s perfectly normal for a man to buy a woman he’s dating lingerie. Particularly if that man and woman are engaged.

  This is utter nonsense, my wolf shrieked. I want Gunner.

  “This gift is for both of us,” he drawled. His smile widened in clear anticipation. “Why don’t you go ahead and try it on for me? I’ll wait right here.” He settled himself in the armchair near the fireplace with an expectant look on his face.

  Biting back the urge to throw the garment and the box in his face, I decided to bite the bullet and not protest. This was my life now, after all. I was his, and we were to be married.

  Quietly, I rose to my feet and headed to the hall bathroom. Inside, I found the negligee wasn’t the only thing in the box. There was also a pair of sheer thigh-high stockings and matching garters with a garter belt.

  Oh, for fuck’s sake. He wants me to dress up like some simpering sex kitten?

  Gritting my teeth, I undressed and donned the garments, knowing full well that Carter planned to do a lot more tonight than admire me in this sexy getup.

  Well . . . I knew that this day would come eventually.

  I had dodged having sex with him for as long as I could.

  All righty. Best to get this fuckfest started and over with quickly rather than draw this shit out.

  Completely dressed, I glanced in the mirror and debated on whether or not I should wear my hair loose or keep it pinned up as it was now. My hair would look like a wild, wanton mess when it was down, which was exactly the opposite of the proper young socialite I forced myself to be for Carter. I also knew Carter was a total control freak and would welcome any show of my rebellious streak, only so he could crush it like a bug. So, I decided to leave my hair as it was.

  Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the bathroom and returned to the living room. Carter was sprawled on the couch with his arms resting on the backs of the cushions. He sat up a little straighter, a slow, appreciative smile spreading across his face.