The Lone Wolf (Wolf 3)

When Sabrina gave him a rubdown the other night, I immediately wanted to claim my property and chase her off. My unease disappeared when I remembered Maverick wouldn’t reciprocate her advances even if he wanted to. There’d been lots of offers throughout the last few months, but he didn’t take them. Only when things got real did he turn to someone else. It was no excuse for what he did…but I understood Maverick wasn’t a two-timing liar.

That didn’t mean I was ready to forgive him. I couldn’t see that happening for a long time.

The silence continued, and it didn’t seem like Maverick was in the mood to talk. He thrived in tense silence. It gave him the upper hand in every situation. He could tolerate the void that made everyone else uncomfortable. He swirled his glass then took a drink.

“How was work?”

He took his time getting the red liquid down his throat. “Same.”

“Then how was your workout?”

He shrugged.

“You asked me to dinner, but you don’t seem to want to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk about stuff like that.”

“Alright…then what is there to talk about?”

“You.”

“There’s nothing interesting going on in my life…other than the fact that your father wants to kill me.”

“You’ve been writing new music. How’s that going?”

When I’d composed that song about him, it only took me thirty minutes to complete it. When I was emotionally charged, the words just flowed out of the pen and onto the paper. “Good. I’ve been writing a lot lately.” I had a lot of material to cover.

“Have you ever thought of being a musician?”

“I already am.”

“You’re an opera singer. I meant, have you ever considered being a contemporary singer. Just you and the piano. I really think people would love it. I know the opera doesn’t pay you much, so if you had your own production, maybe things would be different.”

“I don’t know…that sounds like a lot of work.”

“It’s not work if you love it, right?”

“I just meant doing both.”

“You don’t have to do both,” he said. “You can quit the opera whenever you want.”

Not everyone was rich like he was. “I can’t quit. I need to work.”

“But you don’t.” He leaned forward with his hand still wrapped around the stem of his glass. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If you want to save your voice for your own act, that’s a great idea. My money is your money. You’re my wife—on and off paper.”

I’d never used the money he gave me. I had debit and credit cards that he allowed me to have, but not once had I used them for anything. I cashed my checks from the opera and spent that on gas, clothes, and anything else I needed. Taking even a euro from him had never crossed my mind.

“Sheep.”

I stopped ignoring his stare. “I asked you to stop calling me that.”

“Well, I’m not going to. Listen to what I said.” His left hand rested around the glass so his ring was always in view. Dark like charcoal and deep like his eyes, it was the perfect ring to suit his appearance. It was still strange to see him wear it…but it looked just right at the same time.

“I don’t want your money.”

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t want it. Legally, it’s yours. If we really filed for divorce, you would have every right to take half of it.”

“I’m aware.” It would have been easy for me to demand half his estate because I was entitled to half his holdings. My love for Maverick had nothing to do with the assets he possessed, so therefore, I didn’t want anything. I didn’t touch anything that he’d worked so hard for. “I’ve never been interested in your money. You’re the only thing I’ve ever been interested in.”

His chest rose slightly as a deep breath entered it. His eyes softened as he let the air escape through his nostrils.

“I heard those two girls talking. I could see the dollar signs in their eyes. I could see the way they looked at you as some kind of sugar daddy. If you want a pretty girl who only cares about your money, mission accomplished. But I’m not one of those girls. I actually know you, Maverick. I like you…respect you.”

His eyes filled with guilt.

“So, no, I don’t want your money.”

“I asked you to try. That’s part of the deal.”

“Why do you think I’m here?” I countered.

“I’m sorry I fucked things up, but I’m here now. I want this marriage to work. If I didn’t, I would just shoot my dad and let you go out on your own. Even if he were dead, I still wouldn’t want you to leave. I would want you to stay…because I want us to be together no matter what. I know I should have said this sooner and I shouldn’t have screwed things up, but I’m fighting for you now.”