Her Wolf (Their Lady of Shadows Book 4)

by Logan Fox

  For the sake of retaining at least some shred of dignity, she’d decided he could keep the damn underwear. She had more, anyway.

  But it felt weirdly intimate to meet with a complete stranger while cool air moved around her nether regions every time she took a step or crossed her legs. And it was as if Finn knew it; he watched her like a curious tiger wondering if the hare it was stalking would ever grow tired of their game.

  As soon as they sat, one of the villa’s servants came inside the library with a wheeled serving tray. The smell of coffee hit Cora’s nose before she saw the spread of cakes and finger foods stacked alongside the espresso decanters.

  She caught Lars’s eye.

  He shrugged. “What? It’s just good manners to feed your guests.” Then he added, in a voice meant only for her ears, “and your men.”

  She wasn’t complaining; her stomach growled at the sight of the food. She wasn’t the only one to grab something to eat, but their guest, Nick, just sat back politely and watched them stuffing their faces as if he had all the time in the world.

  With her mouth full, she couldn’t exactly ask him what he wanted. But he seemed happy to scan everyone while wearing the most neutral smile she’d ever seen.

  Judging from his salt-and-pepper hair, and the gray dusting his sideburns, he might have been close to her father’s age, if not a little older.

  She swallowed down the last of a croissant, wiped her fingers on a napkin, and slugged down some warm coffee before speaking.

  “So…you wanted to see me?” she asked.

  Nick had been watching Lars eat. She wasn’t surprised; Lars ate as passionately as he made love.

  The lawyer turned to her at the question, and gave her a small nod. He lifted his briefcase onto the table and took out a file, making each move with utter precision.

  “Do you remember me at all, Ms Rivera?” he asked, flipping open the file before taking a spectacle case from inside the briefcase.

  She took another sip of coffee, shaking her head. “Should I?”

  “You were very young. Five, I think.” For the first time, his smile brightened a bit. “You’ve grown since then.”

  What the hell was she supposed to say to that? So she gave him a tight smile, threw Finn a frown, and sipped at her coffee.

  Nick took out a sheet of paper and slid it over the table to her. He was sitting next to Lars, who sat to her right. Finn sat to her left, and Bailey beside him.

  Strange, she hadn’t even considered taking any seat but the head of the table. The thought perked up her lips as she grabbed the corner of the sheet and glanced at it.

  “That’s a lot of numbers,” she said. She waved the paper. “Is it supposed to mean something to me?”

  Nick politely cleared his throat. “That’s a statement for the trust your father set up in your name.”

  “Oh.” Cora looked back at the paper. And then back at the lawyer. “All of it?” her voice was a bit too high, so she hurriedly put the paper down so she could take another sip of coffee.

  “Uh…yes,” Nick said. He slid his spectacles on his nose and gave her a dreary smile. “With the economic conditions we had last year, we’re lucky to have seen any returns on your investments, but I was able to scrape through a paltry eight-point-seven percent.”

  Lars looked up at this, and then across at Cora. He hurriedly wiped his hands on a napkin and gestured at the piece of paper.

  “Mother, may I?”

  She rolled her eyes at him, but handed over the paper. “So what are you saying, Nick?”

  “Not my finest year, I’ll be the first to admit—”

  “I’m sorry,” Lars cut in, lifting a hand in Nick’s direction. Then he stabbed at the paper. “Am I counting right? Are those nine digits?”

  Nick craned the side to see what Lars was pointing at. “Ah, yes, you see…with the fall in commodities last quarter—”

  “Fucking rich people,” Lars muttered, shoving the paper back at Cora.

  There was a long, retracted silence. Then Finn reached for the paper and glanced at it. He handed it to Bailey.

  Nick cleared his throat again. “I completely understand if you wish to appoint a new trustee, Ms Rivera. I would of course appreciate the opportunity to handle the transition on November second, but if you’d prefer I hand over the investment portfolio to another—”

  “This—” Cora washed a hand down herself “—isn’t anger. It’s shock. Just give me a minute.”

  She sat back in her chair, bringing her coffee cup with her.

  If the ringing in her ears could just quieten down, it would make thinking a hell of a lot easier.

  583,000,000

  Bailey put the page down. His eyes were wide, his lips parted.

  Had it been 583? Or 385? She gestured, and Finn slid the paper back over the table to her.

  583 million.

  She swallowed down the rest of her coffee, burning her mouth.

  When she made eye contact with Nick again, he wore a tiny frown above the bridge of his nose. “You’re joking, right?”

  Nick dropped his eyes. “I understand your frustration, Ms Rivera. If you would like me to present a detailed explanation of your share holdings—”

  “Nick.”

  “—then I’ll just need a day to prepare. I can have a PowerPoint presentation—”

  “Nick!”

  The man looked up.

  “Nick, I can’t wrap my head around how much money that is,” Cora said. She laid her hands over the sheet. “Stop apologizing, okay?”

  Nick looked a little concerned at this instruction, but gave a wary nod in her direction.

  “Okay…” Cora sat back, hands still on the table, and tried to breathe. “I’m guessing that’s not…it’s not all just, money piles in a vault somewhere, right?”

  At this, Nick perked up. “Your investments have been spread across several very—”

  “I mean, I can’t just go and get money from…from like an ATM?”

  Nick blinked, took off his spectacles, and began cleaning them with his tie. “Uh…Not quite. There is a day-to-day fund which I can make withdrawals from, if you do need anything—”

  “So it’s my money, but I can’t touch it?” Cora cut in.

  “Not yet.” Nick gave a decisive nod. “Not until November second.”

  “That’s pretty specific,” Lars said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Nick gave him a quick glance, but his eyes shot straight back to Cora. He’d been uneasy sitting down with all three men, but he’d probably been around enough cartel folk to know that the higher up someone was, the meatier their entourage became.

  “It’s my birthday,” Cora said through numb lips.

  “What, Tuesday’s your birthday?” Lars grinned at her. “You should have said sooner. Didn’t exactly leave us much time to pick out presents, did you?”

  “The trust is to be released to you on your twenty-first birthday,” Nick said, and began taking more papers out of his briefcase. “In preparation, I need you to please sign these documents.”

  Lars handed the stack of papers to her, and then Nick’s ballpoint pen.

  “Uh…who do I sign as?”

  Nick gave her a blank stare, and then waved a hand as he let out a small, tight laugh. “Cora Swan, of course. Everything is under her social security number.”

  The lawyer busied himself in his briefcase while Cora stared over the table at him.

  “What did you say?” she asked, having to clear her voice halfway through.

  “What’s that?” Nick asked, blinking owlishly at her over the top of his spectacles. “Oh, everything’s under Cora Swan.”

  She waggled the pen in his direction. “No, not that. The bit about the social security number.”

  “What? Yes, well, we couldn’t put it under Eleo—”

  “I’m legal?” She slapped the pen down. “I’m actually a legal citizen?”

  Nick’s mouth worked. “Well…on pap
er, yes.”

  “So… I could hop on a plane and go—”

  Nick cut her off with a dry cough. “Uh…Ms Rivera, I would have to advise that you don’t—”

  “But I could, if I wanted to?” Cora tapped a fingernail against the sheet with that fucking ridiculously large number on it. “I could take this, and go somewhere where no one knows me?”

  Finn made a soft sound in the back of his throat. When she turned to him, he sat back in his chair and folded his muscular arms over his chest.

  “What?”

  He shook his head, closing his eyes a little as if to preclude himself from the conversation.

  “I mean, it’s possible, right?” Cora spun to look at Lars, but he ate autonomously from his plate again, a thousand yard stare in his eyes.

  “It is possible, of course,” Nick said, sounding reluctant to have to be the one to speak. “But dangerous. The paperwork is there, but anyone looking hard enough, long enough…they will most certainly find a crack.”

  “I thought people changed identities all the time. People like me,” Cora said, dashing her fingers toward herself.

  “You can change your identity, Ms Rivera, but are you willing to undergo plastic surgery to alter your appearance?”

  More quiet. As if realizing he was eating too loudly, Lars swallowed his mouthful of food and pushed his plate away with a sigh.

  “He’s right,” Finn said, sitting forward and resting his arms on the table. “If you’re in the system, all it will take is one camera at one airport.”

  Cora slumped back in her chair. She tapped her pen against the heap of papers. “This is going to take a while.”

  “I am happy to return, if that will be—”

  Cora waved a hand at him. “You can stay here if you want. There’s enough room.” She rubbed her hands over her eyes.

  “That’s very kind of you, Ms Rivera.”

  When she took her hands away, Nick was still sitting there, looking expectant.

  “There’s more?” she asked, her elbows thumping on the table. Her head was still spinning — what the hell else was this guy going to lay on her?

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to run through the current list of the cartel’s assets.” Nick glanced around the library. “I had requested for Mr Martin’s council to be present, but unfortunately he never came back to me.”

  “Assets?” Cora said, the same time Bailey blurted out, “Mr Martin?”

  “Neo,” Finn murmured from across the table.

  “Oh,” Bailey said, with a slow nod. And then he looked embarrassed at having said anything at all.

  “Now, the most important asset is this land and its buildings.”

  “This belongs to the cartel?” Cora asked, twisting her hand to indicate the library.

  “Your father and Mr. Javier Martin were a partnership. All assets are equally split.”

  “Even Swan Manor?” Cora asked. It was silly of course — she could have bought a billion Swan Manors with the chunk of change this Nick guy claimed she owned.

  Okay, maybe a million. She wasn’t a freaking rocket scientist.

  “All except Swan Manor. That, Antonio purchased outright under his own name.”

  “Then why didn’t Javier buy the villa himself?” Finn asked.

  “Well…” Nick took his glasses off, polishing them again. “You see, Mr Martin Senior—” this with a glance toward Bailey “—wasn’t liquid at the time this villa was purchased.”

  “English,” Lars muttered. “If you’d be so kind.”

  “English…” Nick mused as he put his glasses back on. “Javier was too broke to afford this place. But he wanted it anyway, so he bought it with cartel money.”

  Lars let out a low whistle through his teeth.

  “Quite,” Nick agreed. “Javier tended to be a bit…ardent sometimes.”

  “So I own half the villa, Neo owns the other?”

  “Correct, Ms Rivera.” Nick found another sheet of paper and handed it to Lars to hand to her. “Here is a list of the cartel properties and assets, ranked in descending order of current market value.”

  It was a long list. There were several properties, boats, and cars on it. And that was just the first page. The second listed artworks and collectibles and things she didn’t even know how to define.

  “What’s a Bitcoin?” she asked after turning back to the first page.

  Lars barked out a laugh, and then widened his eyes at her when she frowned at him. “Oh fuck, you’re serious?”

  And then he carried on laughing, and it took Finn snapping at him before he stopped.

  8

  All Apologies

  Neo stared at the number on the cellphone’s screen, glanced up at the blank flat screen television opposite him, and made the call.

  His palms sweated despite how he kept rubbing them over his t-shirt. It rang a few times before going to voicemail. He took the phone away from his ear and was about to end the call when Sylvia caught his wrist. She’d been sitting behind him on the bed, but now she pressed her body flush against him and brought her lips to his ear.

  “Leave a message,” she murmured.

  He lifted the phone again. “Hi…uh…this is Neo. Neo Martin. Javier’s son.” He twisted his head to look at Sylvia, widening his eyes at her, and she gave him a satisfied smile. “I need you to call me back. You have my number.”

  He ended the call, and shrugged at her. “You think he’ll call?”

  “I told you, Javier spoke to him all the time.” Sylvia crooned, nuzzling the side of his neck. “I’m sure he can help you with your…problem.”

  Neo felt like cringing at the word, even if it was the most accurate depiction of the bitch who’d overnight become his wife and co-leader of the cartel.

  She was a problem. And problems had to be dealt with.

  He stared down at the cellphone screen, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted it to ring or not, especially since he had no idea who would be on the other end of the line. Was the guy a paid assassin — someone who had no ties with the cartels so it would look like a cold hit? Or was this one of those guys who knew everyone a capo could ever need…and then just made the arrangements like a criminal concierge service.

  “Neo?”

  He flinched, and turned. Sylvia lay spread behind him, the two halves of her robe falling away from her bare breasts. She beckoned him. “Fuck me,” she said.

  “Not now.” Neo shrugged as he turned back. “Let’s see if he calls.”

  “It’ll make the wait seem shorter,” she said. The bed moved under her as she came up to him, slipping her arms around his waist to stroke his dick through his shorts.

  He arched his back, putting her out of reach of his dick. “Christ, woman!”

  She fell away from him with a soft laugh, and sprawled on the bed behind him. “Fine…then you can watch.”

  He spun to her, intent on yelling at her—and god, he’d yelled at her more times than he could count today—but she spread her legs as he watched, and her hand slid behind the film of her underwear.

  Her fingers humped up that dark fabric as she circled her clit.

  His dick strained against his shorts a second later.

  “The longer you take, the quicker it’s going to be,” Sylvia said.

  A flare of anger burst through him. “You conniving bitch,” he muttered, clawing his way over to her. He grabbed her underwear, ripping it halfway down her legs. She let out a husky laugh, and spread her legs again as she worked a pair of fingers in and out of her pussy.

  “Did I make you angry, Neo?” she asked coyly, her shoulders squirming into the sheets under her.

  “You know you did.” He yanked his dick free and shoved it into her. She gasped, her back arching, and fisted the sheets beside her hips as he pounded into her again.

  “Harder,” she commanded, lifting her hips from the bed.

  He didn’t want to see her face, or hear her voice. Every time he did, it made him think of
Javier. It reminded him that the prick had fucked her countless times before he had.

  If she hadn’t proved such a surprising resource, he would have thrown her out of the villa, just to be rid of that constant reminder.

  But she fucked like a succubus, and who knew what else was buried in that pretty head? What conversations she’d overheard, or what Javier had confessed to her as he’d fucked her, high and delirious on his own success?

  Neo pulled out, grabbed her hips, and flipped her over.

  She didn’t like this position, but she knew he didn’t care. She gasped when he thrust into her from behind, twisting and moaning in part pleasure, part pain.

  When he was coming inside her, his phone rang.

  He emptied himself before he fumbled the phone closer, and he kept his softening dick inside her when he answered.

  “Yes?” His voice was breathless, but harsh.

  “I am returning your call,” came a quiet reply. The man had a strong American accent, and he knew for a fact he’d never heard it before.

  Neo pulled out of Sylvia, squeezing her ass as she fell onto her side, and then moved to the edge of the bed so he sit up and put his cock away.

  “My sincerest condolences for your loss,” the man said, before Neo could speak again. Which was better, because he was still trying to get his breath back. “Your father was a great man. He will be sorely missed.”

  The words sounded empty but, they didn’t sound rehearsed.

  He couldn’t quite get the hang of this stranger, but who the hell else did he have on his side?

  “You and my father were close?” he asked.

  “We were business partners,” the man said. “I assume that is why you called.”

  Neo didn’t know what to say. He spun back to Sylvia, and she gave him an open-mouthed smile. She was finishing herself off; the fingers of one hand inside while she strummed her clit with the other.

  He wanted to look away, but the growing pleasure on her face was hypnotic. “I don’t understand,” he said.

  There was a moment’s silence before the man spoke again. “My apologies,” he said in a slow drawl. “I assumed you were calling to confirm arrival of the first shipment.”