Page 5 of In the Mouth of the Wolf

The attorney grabbed my arm. “There’s still a lot to take care of here, and your father’s will…”

I ripped myself from his grasp, pointing my finger in his face while my body shook with rage. “I don’t want anything that man left me. Don’t touch me again; don’t contact me again. I’m getting on the first plane out of this backwater hellhole.”

I slammed the office door behind me and stormed off into the parking garage, plopping down in my car and bursting into tears. All that testosterone in the room had me on a weird edge. What the hell was up with all that growling and posturing between the counselor and the attorney? This was all just so insulting and bizarre.

It reminded me of when I was a teenager and my boobs had come in. Like a bat signal to creeps, they had started following me around whenever I was out, telling me I smelled nice and asking for my phone number.

But back then, I had had Ezra to put them in their place.

God, I really was alone now.

After wiping my cheeks and blowing my nose, I took out my phone and called Mike.

“Hey, did you make it okay?”

His voice instantly made me feel better, and I took a deep breath to start, but he could tell just from the slight shuddering sound that something was wrong. “Shit, I should have come with you…”

I let out a pained laugh. “Yes, but not for the reasons you think.” I gave him a brief rundown of what had happened at the hospital, and as I spoke, it sounded even more bizarre.

“Jesus Christ, what year is it over there?” he asked. “Do you need me to come? I can try to find a flight tonight.”

I opened my mouth to respond when I heard a woman laughing in the background.

“Where are you?”

“At the office. I have that project, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” I sniffed. “Tell Jen I said hi.” I had met Jen at a few of his company parties. She was always really nice to me. She kept asking if I wanted to get drinks with her and have a girls’ night. After dealing with those two men, a girls’ night was actually starting to sound pretty damn appealing, and I made a mental note to take her up on that offer soon.

“Of course. By the way, I brought in some leftovers, and apparently, you’re right – sweet potatoes taste better with marshmallows.”

“They’re amazing, Marlowe! Your fiancé has no taste!” Jen yelled into the phone.

I chuckled at the confirmation. “Told you. Anyway, don’t worry about coming. I’m going to try to change my flight and return today. There’s no point in my being here. I’m sorry you paid so much for my ticket. This was a colossal waste of time.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he said, reassuring me with his calming tone. “At the very least, you got some closure, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I sighed. “I’ll let you know when I’m supposed to arrive. Do you think you can pick me up?”

“Definitely. I love you, my Lunessa.”

He had started calling me that pet name in the past year, and my face warmed whenever he said it. “Love you, too.”

I hung up and stared out of my windshield, through the open space between the concrete floors of the garage. Fluffy snowflakes floated lazily in the air, and my anger subsided enough that the chill was finally seeping through the woefully thin jacket I was wearing. I hadn’t needed a proper winter coat in years and had forgotten how essential they were here. I shivered and turned on the car to start the heater, then opened the airline app on my phone to go about changing my ticket.

A sudden knock at the window made me scream, dropping my phone somewhere between the seat and the center console. My dad’s attorney looked at me apologetically, and I grumbled as I lowered the window. “What do you want?” I snapped.

“I apologize for the way the counselor treated you and if my initial reaction to the situation offended you. You came all this way, at least let me take you out for breakfast. Then if you’re game, we can head to my satellite office and discuss your father’s estate.”

“Estate?” I asked. “Did he leave me a bunch of useless, impractical junk that I now gotta deal with?” Wouldn’t that be the cherry on this shit sundae, finding out I’d inherited his collection of obscure jazz records or antique spoons or something stupid?

“Not exactly,” he replied. “There’s a diner not too far from here called Betty’s. Why don’t you head over there? I’ll meet you. Besides, I don’t know if you’ve checked the weather, but a winter storm is coming through, and I don’t think you’ll have much luck flying out for the next few days.”

“Crap,” I groaned. Combined with the holiday weekend rush, I might be screwed until the middle of next week.

In that case, diner breakfast was sounding pretty good at the moment, too, if I was being honest. “Fine, I suppose you can buy me a meal.”

Elias smiled, and my breath almost stopped. He was far too gorgeous for his own good. “It would be my absolute pleasure, Ms. Linden.”

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