The Wolf and His Wife (Wolf 2)

Her eyes stayed on Nadia. “Do you know her?”

“Yes. That’s how I know her name and what she does for a living.” I couldn’t block the sarcasm from my voice.

She gave me a look full of attitude. “You know that’s not what I was asking.”

I stared at her blankly, having no idea what she meant. “Speak your mind because I can’t read it.”

“Did you sleep with her?” She turned blunt.

My eyes gently shifted back and forth as I looked into her gaze, surprised she would ask such a question. She didn’t cross the line into my personal life and rarely expressed interest in it. “Because she’s a model, you assume I slept with her?”

“Am I wrong?” she challenged.

She had me backed into a corner. “No.”

She smiled slightly, as if in victory. “I figured.”

“A bit of an assumption.”

“You two have nothing in common in terms of business, so I doubt there was much talking going on.” Her voice was borderline condescending, as if she judged me for having an affair with a beautiful woman.

It was almost as if she were jealous. “Since when do you care who I sleep with?”

“I never said I cared.”

“Seems like you do.”

She stepped in close to me, looking up at me with eyes that matched the color of her dress. With her dark makeup, she looked more alluring than usual, so when she copped an attitude, it was somehow sexy. Now, she was so close, she could kiss me if she wanted to. And the closer she became, the more it seemed like her lips were about to touch mine. We hadn’t kissed in public unless it was for a show. But this one would be genuine.

She moved in until her lips lightly pressed against mine, soft like rose petals. She kissed me as she held on to my arm for balance. The embrace was unexpected. She told me she didn’t care who I slept with, but now she was kissing me like she wanted me to be hers.

It was ironic, considering Nadia wasn’t nearly as beautiful as Arwen was.

But I would never tell my wife that.

She pulled back, a slight smile on her lips, like she knew a secret she would never share.

“Maverick DeVille.” Franco Mancini approached us with his wife in tow. He was the owner of one of the most historic hotels in the city, a building that had been standing for hundreds of years. It’d been renovated but contained the same unique architecture that made it timeless. “Nice to see you, young man.” He shook my hand.

“You as well, Franco. How’s the hotel business?”

“No complaints,” he said with a smile. “And the cheese business?”

“I have no complaints either.” I smiled politely then introduced the woman beside me. “Franco, this is my wife, Arwen.” It was strange to say those words out loud, to introduce this woman as my wife. It started off as a ploy, but now it felt more real than ever. “Arwen, this is Franco Mancini. He owns the historic Le Sirense hotel here in Florence. And this is his wife, Carla.”

“Nice to meet you both.” She shook hands and allowed Franco to kiss her on the cheek. “I’ve seen your hotel, and it really is beautiful. Had lunch a couple of times.”

“Thank you,” Franco said. “It’s in a lovely spot.”

Carla smiled at both of us. “You two look really happy…definitely newlyweds.”

My arm returned around Arwen’s waist.

“Just like with cheese, you have great taste,” Franco said. “I’ve known you for a long time, Maverick, and I’ve never seen you so happy. That’s what happens when you fall in love… Same thing happened to me.” He looked at his own wife. “And you’ll be happy for a very long time.”

“Please sing something, Mrs. DeVille.” Charles, the host of the party, practically begged my wife to serenade the room with her beautiful voice. “We would be so honored if you would sing us a song.”

Even though Arwen was certain of her capabilities, she always looked shy when someone asked her to perform. She turned to me and silently asked permission.

I didn’t want to let her go because she made this party more bearable, but I knew I couldn’t hog her forever. “Just one song.”

Charles took her by the wrist and pulled her away. “Thank you so much, Mrs. DeVille. I’ve seen you at the opera so many times…”

I stayed in the back with my glass of champagne, knowing people would swoop in for conversation any moment. We’d spent the evening talking to dozens of people, making small talk about the end of summer and work. Nadia didn’t come near me because she spotted me with my wife and steered clear.

I still didn’t know if Arwen was jealous or not.

Arwen sat at the piano with her chin tilted toward the keys. She avoided the gaze of everyone in the room as they stared at her and waited for her to play her song. She was used to attention, used to having an auditorium of people stare at her for hours, but these intimate gatherings softened her. Maybe it was because she played her own music instead of whatever the production provided for her. Perhaps it really was more intimate.