Marriage Claws

by Paige Cuccaro

  “That must’ve been rough,” Jack said.

  “He hung around until I turned eighteen—paid the rent, bought food, and clothes when I complained enough. But at midnight on my eighteenth birthday he came into my room and told me I was an adult now and I could take care of myself and my brother. That it was time for him to get his life back. Then he left. I’ve been taking care of us ever since.”

  “You never saw him again?”

  “Never wanted to,” I said. “I mean, any man who could just check out like that . . . He wasn’t much of a father, but he was all I had. The only grownup in my life for years.”

  “And he abandoned you . . . just like that?”

  “Just like that,” I said, forcing a smile. “I hear he remarried. Has a cute little daughter. Apparently the one he already had wasn’t good enough.”

  “You don’t really believe that,” Jack said.

  I laughed. “No,” I said. But that was lie. A lie I’d never admit to anyone.

  And that makes awkward moment number three. More than enough for one evening. I sighed. “You know, I’m actually kind of tired. I think I should get to bed after all.”

  I stood and Jack pushed to his feet beside me. He took my hand, stopping me before I could turn away. “Kate. You have to know it’s not true.”

  “It’s not a big deal.” I tried to pull away, but Jack held me firm.

  His thumb caressed the back of my hand sending waves of tingles washing through my veins. “I’m sorry, Kate. I didn’t know.”

  “Like I said, I’m over it.”

  “You must’ve worked so hard to get The Sweet Spot up and running,” he said. “You were so young. You went through so much. And now . . .”

  I could see the pity in his eyes, hear it in his voice. Pity ruined everything. It undermined accomplishments. It made people nice when they would’ve been honest. It made them kind when they would’ve been indifferent. Pity was a lie. You couldn’t trust anything that was born out of pity.

  His gaze dropped to our hands. He turned mine over in his, unfurling my fingers, stroking his thumb over my palm. My breath hitched, my heart skipping faster.

  He looked up to me, met my eyes. “I’ll save your restaurant, Kate. I promise. You can count on me.” He raised my hand and pressed a kiss to my palm.

  I sucked a quick breath, the feel of his warm lips on my skin snapping my muscles tight. My eyes closed, a tremble vibrating through me. I pulled my hand from his and swallowed hard.

  “Thanks,” I said, wiping the feel of his kiss off on my robe. “I’m counting on it.”

  A flicker of doubt shuttered in his eyes and I instantly regretted what must’ve seemed like a rebuke. He fought to hold his smile and my heart melted. My brain turned to mush and I reached up, to that stubborn curl still sticking up on his head and smoothed it down. The strands were as soft as the looked and the nearness to him filled my lungs with his strange, exotic scent.

  I swallowed hard again, my mind racing, my thoughts swirling around the shape of his mouth, the soft lure of his lips. Jack’s eyes focused on mine and he held my wrist before I could fully pull away again. He leaned closer, his gaze falling to lips, the air between suddenly electric. He drew closer, his nose brushing mine, his eyes closing.

  He was going to kiss me, and my entire body tingled with anticipation. I wanted this more than I cared to admit. Like a cartoon princess swooning for her prince, my knees weakened. I held my breath. Except you’re not a princess. And Jack Pensione was no Prince Charming. He was a business partner. This whole thing was a business arrangement.

  What am I doing? I jerked back, shuffled a step away. “You save The Sweet Spot, and I’ll help you get that CEO job. That’s the deal, right?”

  Jack straightened, blinking as though his brain struggled to catch up. He tried for a smile that wouldn’t hold. “Uhm, yeah. Right.”

  “Great.” I backed away. “That’s great. Well, um . . . goodnight, then.”

  “Night.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  The schedule said I had a charity luncheon to attend with Jack at one. Apparently, Genève had slipped it under my door while I slept. I had yet to meet Genève, and I was beginning to suspect that she was really Jack’s alter ego. His way of indulging his compulsive need to control everything.

  Or maybe I was just a late sleeper. Either way.

  Alan, Jack’s driver, stopped the car on Fifth Avenue at the entrance to the Central Park Zoo. The park was closed, though a long stream of limos, Mercedes, Rolls-Royces and town cars stopped and started out front letting off wealthy passengers.

  My stomach shrank, nerves drying my mouth. This so wasn’t my scene. Jack was supposed to meet me, but peering through the tinted window he wasn’t anywhere in sight.

  Alan opened my door and I stepped out, scanning the crowd filing into the zoo. I smoothed my new dress, designed by Valentino. The heavy pink organza and floral lace felt good hugging around me despite the warm summer day. I’d had to endure a fitting for the first time in my life, but the result was a sculpted dress that flattered my curves and made me feel like a lady in soft pink.

  I slipped into line, eyeing the staff on the other side of the arched entrance. In their white tux jackets, black slacks and white gloves they checked each invitation. I didn’t have one. Crap. I glanced back to the curb, but Alan had already pulled away. Nowhere to escape.

  The line shambled forward pushing me along like some horrific conveyer belt on an automated assembly line, where any minute a giant stamp would slam down cookie-cutting me into a mold I couldn’t possibly fit.

  Too soon the people in front of me offered their fancy invitation, the couple behind me crowding forward. And then it was my turn.

  “Good afternoon, ma’am. Welcome to the friends of the Central Park Zoo charity luncheon. May I see your invitation?” The attractive man asked, smile firmly fixed on his face.

  “I—”

  “We’re together,” Jack said appearing beside me like a gleaming knight to save the day. He offered the invitation to the man, holding a tall glass of champagne in his other hand.

  “Jack . . .” I said on an exhale. He looked amazing in his light gray suit with a seafoam green tie and matching pocket square. His white shirt molded against the broad plains of his chest, the buttons of his jacket undone—his only nod to the slightly more casual affair.

  He gifted me with a smile, instantly setting my nerves at ease. “You’re late,” he said.

  A flutter tickled through my belly. Despite my better judgment, I was happy to see him. “Late is a relative term in my world.”

  He slipped his hand to the small of my back. The soft pressure, warm and comforting, sent a throb of heat straight to my core. I resisted the urge to lean into him while his strong arm sheltered around me. He bent down and pressed a kiss to my temple, and for just a half second, I forgot we were constantly being watched.

  My breath caught as a thousand photo clicks snapped in secession to our left.

  “Ready,” Jack whispered in my ear. Before I could answer he pivoted us in the direction of the jumble of photographers corralled behind a velvet-roped area, confined like every other wild animal in the park.

  Show time. I snaked my arm around Jack’s waist, my other hand resting on his chest. We smiled, hugging close, holding the pose for nearly two solid minutes.

  The photographers shouted questions. “Is she the one, Jack?”

  “Is that an engagement ring?”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Is she pregnant?”

  “Will it be a shotgun wedding?”

  Jack didn’t answer. He held his smile—the expression cold, unemotional. It was so different and stiff compared to his real smile, the smile he’d given me the other night in his family room. I wondered how no one seemed to notice.

  After several seconds of the constant shutter snaps Jack waved. “Okay, guys. That’s enough. Thanks.”

  The gaggle of photographers cal
led to Jack, but he turned us toward the party without looking back.

  Visitors to the zoo were immediately met by a large sea lion enclosure at the center of an open plaza edged by tall brick and wood arbors. The dark pool seemed to help cool the summer air. The sea lions lounged on their rock island at the center, unimpressed by the fancy people strolling by in the latest Fendi, Dior or Prada.

  The charity had set up big tents around the pool, filling them with soft lights as the day grew long. Hundreds of tables covered in white cloths crowded each tent, flowering centerpieces adding an elegant splash of color.

  Jack ushered me from one conversation to another, introducing me to politicians, A-list actors, and business tycoons. Their names and faces became a blur in my brain. I’d never remember them all. But then when this was over, I wouldn’t have to.

  More than an hour later, I was sure we’d met everyone and we finally had a moment alone to breathe.

  “We don’t have to stay,” Jack said, his hand still resting low on my back.

  “I don’t mind.” I looked up at him. “I mean, if you don’t. I love zoos.”

  “I could give you a private tour,” he said.

  “You?” I knew I looked doubtful.

  “Yes, me,” he said, teasingly offended. “I happen to know a lot about different animals. I bet I could tell you things even the employees don’t know. Things only the animals themselves know.”

  “You have the inside scoop on all the zoo animal gossip or something?” I asked.

  His smile hitched higher. “In a way.”

  “Okay, then yeah. Lead the way. Unless . . .” I looked around to see if anyone was guarding the paths to the rest of the zoo. “Are we allowed?”

  He shrugged. “Paid five hundred a plate to come to this thing. Should buy us a private viewing at the very least. Follow me,” Jack said, slyly peering around, snagging my hand and heading us toward the farthest tent.

  We cut through, zigzagging around tables, only stopping long enough at a tray of champagne flutes to replace our empties. He clasped my hand again, pulling me through the greenery behind the tent—finding the brick path that led deeper into the zoo.

  We looked behind us, making sure no one would flag us down, warn us not to leave the front plaza. When it was clear no one would try to herd us back to the party, Jack let my hand slip from his.

  No big deal. Besides, I had plenty of champagne to swallow any disappointment. The sweet bubbles tickled down my throat and I licked my lips. “So you really know about all these animals?”

  Jack slipped his hand into the front pocket of his slacks, taking a quick sip from his glass. He shrugged. “It’s not that hard. They only have about twenty different kinds of animals and reptiles in the whole park.”

  A clamor of squeaks and squeals echoed off trees just as we passed the snow monkey exhibit. Jack’s attention snapped across the moat to the furry animals swinging and jumping around their enclosure in a panic.

  “Must be close to feeding time,” I said.

  “Right.” Jack nodded, though the frown pressing a little dent between his brows deepened.

  “What’s your favorite?” I asked.

  “Hm?” Jack dragged his attention to me as we turned away from the frantic monkeys toward the polar bears. “Oh, um, the snow leopards, I guess. Beautiful animals. Amazing predators.”

  “Where—” A chest-quaking roar interrupted my question and I turned, staring at the pair of polar bears pacing back and forth, agitated. “Wow, these animals don’t seem to like you all that much. That’s so weird.”

  Jack took my elbow. “Let’s keep moving.”

  He ushered me down the path toward the snow leopard enclosure, both of us glancing back at the polar bears watching us.

  “Jack?”

  “We need to talk,” he said.

  The path curved around to the right putting the bears out of sight. The snow leopards were further down the path but already we could hear their loud hissing and growls.

  “Oh my God, what’s with all of them?”

  “Damn it. I guess this was inevitable. Now is as good a time as any.” Jack sighed then gulped the rest of his champagne, shoving the empty glass into a nearby garbage can.

  He let go of my elbow and walked ahead. I followed him to the snow leopards, the big cats growing even more agitated once Jack neared the observation wall of their habitat.

  “What are you going to do? Do you know what’s wrong with them?”

  “Yes.” He glanced my way, studied me as if weighing some decision. Then he turned back to the leopards. “They sense a more dominant predator.”

  “Where? Who?” I asked.

  “Me.” Two seconds after he said it a low rumbling noise rolled between us, growing louder, radiating out.

  I looked up as Jack’s hands braced on the thick metal railing, his eyes bright almost glowing. Was he . . . was he growling? Weird. But not judging.

  The sound wasn’t human. I mean, it didn’t sound like something that could come from a human voice box. If I closed my eyes, I’d swear it was some sort of huge animal standing beside me. I could almost feel the rumbling growl inside my body, vibrating through me—triggering instincts that made me want to shrink away in submission.

  The sound seemed to have a similar effect on the leopards, telling them to be still, be quiet until the danger had passed. The two cats hissed at Jack, but backed away, snarling a few times before finding a dark hiding spot under a cleverly stacked pile of boulders and a hollowed half tree-trunk.

  The cats were quiet, and slowly the screeches and roars in the rest of the zoo subsided.

  Hairs on the back of my neck bristled. “Jack? What was that?”

  He didn’t answer at first, his concentration was elsewhere. Finally, he exhaled, dropped his head. “There’s something I have to tell you. Something I should’ve told you before you agreed to be my wife.”

  “You’re Doctor Doolittle? You can talk to animals?” I guessed.

  “I’m a werewolf.” He looked at me and he wasn’t smiling.

  “Right. That was my next guess.” I chuckled but something about the way he stared at me—the heat in his eyes, the leashed power stiffening his shoulders—made my stomach twist. “There’s no such thing.”

  He glanced at the leopards still cowering in their shelters then back to me. “They don’t seem to agree.”

  I followed his gaze to the big cats then looked to him. “Seriously? A werewolf. Like in the movies and storybooks? Hairy bodies, howling at the moon . . . Grandma, what big ears and teeth you have?”

  “No,” he said, then shrugged. “And . . . yes. Hollywood has sensationalized our species some, but—”

  “Species? You’re not really a different species, right? I mean, you’re still human. You were just bitten or found some freaky moon rock . . .” Was I seriously asking? It was crazy. But I was trying to make sense of what he was telling me.

  Finally, a smile broke his stern expression. “No. No freaky moon rocks. I was born a werewolf, as were my parents and their parents and . . . most of my extended family.”

  “You mean your pack,” I said, testing my knowledge. Not that I’d bought into the idea at all. I mean, werewolves? Really? How did someone as smart and successful as Jack Pensione function under such a bizarre delusion? He has to be messing with me.

  “Yes. We use the term.” He leaned his backside against the railing, slipping his hands into the front pockets of his slacks. “Despite our best efforts to go undiscovered by humans, a great many secrets about us have been speculated and dramatized in books and movies.”

  “So Hollywood got it right?” Hollywood never gets it right.

  “Some of it. Yes,” he said.

  “Like what?” I asked, going along with this crazy story. Maybe he was into role-playing. Who was I to judge? “Do you have alphas? Do you mate for life? Can you really shift forms?”

  “Yes,” he said. I raised my brows, wanting more and Jack thankf
ully decided to elaborate. “Yes, we have a hierarchy—alpha, beta, omega. And as I told you, my family doesn’t believe in divorce. Once married—mated—it’s for life regardless of what the human courts rule.”

  “And you can really turn yourself into a wolf,” I said, keeping a straight face. “Or is it more of a wolf-man kind of . . . creature?”

  “Both,” he said. “Depending on the circumstances. Normally, however, we prefer a full shift to wolf-form. Retaining human aspects is difficult and . . . painful.”

  I stared at him a half-minute then snorted. “Are you messin’ with me?”

  He looked away with a loud exhale then turned back. “I need you to wrap your brain around this, Kate. I need you to accept it. You’re meeting my family this weekend and things could get . . . awkward if you’re still in denial about our existence.”

  I blinked at him. I’d gotten the week’s schedule, so I knew about this weekend. “You’re serious. You really believe you’re a werewolf?”

  “Yes,” he said, eyes widening with emphasis.

  “But . . . it’s not possible,” I said. “There’s no proof, no science, no remains of a half-human, half-wolf species. Something like that would’ve made the news.”

  “The only proof is in our blood,” Jack said. “When we pass, we appear as human as you. We have our own doctors and plenty of our kind hold positions in different fields that make keeping our privacy possible.”

  “Isn’t there some rule or something that you’re not allowed to tell humans about your existence?” I asked, hoping his delusion didn’t include some—I’ve told you, now I’ve got to kill you-clause.

  “Yes. But we make exceptions for trusted humans and those who we’re taking as mates,” he said. “I’m trusting that when this is all over you’ll keep what you’ve learned to yourself.”

  “You bet. Sanitarium green isn’t really my color,” I said. “So, how long . . . I mean . . . Where did you come from?”

  “We have our creation myths, just like humans,” he said. “But as near as any of us can tell, we evolved right alongside humans. I can’t say with absolute certainty when the first of us came into being, but there are stories and anecdotal evidence about our origins that stretch back as far 750 BC. We’re a very tight-knit people, normally only socializing, dating, and marrying among our own kind. Occasionally, though, an outsider is bitten, either by accident or for love.”