The Wolf and His Wife (Wolf 2)

More heads turned my way.

She went into the chorus one more. “With arms that never let me go, a thumb perfect for the spilled tears, you’re the man who completes me. The man who owns me. The man who loves me. With a heart that will never let you go, lips perfect for yours, I’m the woman who completes you. I’m the woman who loves you.” Her fingers hit a few more keys before the song ended. Silence filled the room, and now, most of the attention was directed at me.

I continued to stare straight ahead and refused to look at the ground. All eyes were on me, and I squeezed my glass a little tighter, uncomfortable with the unwanted attention.

People finally started to applaud for her, and the attention was taken off me.

I downed the rest of my scotch and set it on a passing tray.

Arwen stood up, and the applause grew louder.

I turned around and walked off, the cacophony of noise like nails against a chalkboard. The lights suddenly felt too bright, the collar around my neck too tight. I found the front door and stepped into the cold air, letting the sting of coming winter lower the heat the exploded in my blood.

The second the breeze touched my skin, I felt a little better.

But it wasn’t enough.

19

Arwen

I spent the next hour taking questions about my music. The crowd surrounded me, and I didn’t have an opportunity to find Maverick. I assumed he would come to my side, but he never showed up.

“That was a beautiful song.” A woman I didn’t even know rested her hand over her heart. “It takes me back to when Victor and I first got married. Maverick must have been very touched.”

I hoped he was. “Thank you. Please excuse me.” I parted the crowd and ignored people’s questions as I searched for Maverick. He didn’t seem to be anywhere in the main room, and since all the men wore black suits, he was difficult to spot. It was warm in there, so I decided to check outside.

There he was, drinking a glass of scotch while he let the nighttime air lick the sweat off his skin. He stood alone as he looked across the perfectly manicured lawn of the historic estate. The valet and other workers were there, but the rest of the guests were still inside.

I walked up to him, instantly cold once I wasn’t in the protective bubble of heat the house provided. “There you are. It’s hot in there, huh?”

“A bit.” He finished the rest of his glass and handed it to a waiter as he passed. “Ready to go?”

He didn’t compliment my performance. He didn’t even look at me. Both hands were in his pockets now, so he had no intention of blanketing me with his usual affection. Just an hour ago, we were husband and wife. Now we were something akin to strangers. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah.” He caught the valet’s attention to retrieve the car.

The man took off at a run as Maverick walked toward the roundabout driveway with the large fountain in the center. He didn’t take my hand and guide me down the stairs.

I followed behind him, feeling like a dog that got her nose slapped. “Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?”

“Well, for starters, you haven’t looked at me.”

The valet pulled up with the black Bugatti then tossed the keys to Maverick.

Maverick caught them. “I know what you look like.” He opened the passenger door for me then moved to the other side.

I was so shocked by what he said that it took a second for me to move my feet and get inside the car.

Maverick drove off, driving far faster than necessary and speeding back to the house like he was racing against time.

I looked out the window, refusing to believe this was really happening. “I’m so disappointed in you… I thought we’d moved past this.”

Maverick didn’t acknowledge what I said. He kept his eyes on the road, both hands on the wheel even though he usually only drove with one. He didn’t bother glancing in the rearview mirror and drove as fast as he could, wanting to get away from me as quickly as possible.

I wanted to slap him.

We returned to the house several awkward minutes later. We pulled into the garage then entered the house.

He was on a mission to get away from me. He didn’t wait for me to catch up, even though my ridiculous heels made it impossible for me to match his stride. He entered the entryway and approached the stairs.

“Maverick.”

He stopped on the bottom step but didn’t turn around.

“You need to get over this bullshit. Be a man and buck up.”

He slowly turned around, one hand resting in his pocket. It was the first time he’d really looked at me since I finished my song. Like we were back in time, he stared at me like he hated me. It was six months ago, and he despised having to welcome me into this house. “Get over what bullshit?”