The Wolf and the Sheep Read online

  I took another puff of my cigar and felt the rage boil in my blood. “Maybe if you said something interesting, I would.”

  Martin and I took our seats in the first row, but there was no sign of his daughter.

  Maybe she’d had a change of heart.

  If only.

  Martin didn’t look as sickly when he was dressed in a suit, but his pale skin was more noticeable when the stage lights hit him. “My daughter doesn’t know about my condition…and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention it to her.”

  I had no interest in family affairs. I gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. “Where is she?”

  “You’ll see her in a moment. She’s the opera singer in the production tonight.”

  An opera singer? I imagined a large woman blowing her pipes so the entire auditorium could hear every single note of her monstrous voice. I’d never asked for her age or a description of her appearance. Regardless of how she looked, I would despise her all the same. But if she were considerably older than me…it would just be awkward.

  Minutes later, the curtain rose and the symphony began.

  Standing in the center in a tight black dress was a petite woman looking out to the crowd like she owned the auditorium. She hadn’t moved her lips or made a sound, commanding the stage with her silence. White gloves reached her elbows, and the pearl necklace around her neck made her seem like royalty. With pink cheeks, lips painted the color of red roses, and thick brown hair that was pinned to the side, she looked like a porcelain doll. Her eyes were the most obvious because they were a startling blue, like the deepest ocean in the world. She didn’t blink once as she absorbed the audience, fearless as a warrior, a soldier who used her voice as a weapon. Then she began to sing…and shatter glass with the power of her voice. Strong and controlled, she weaved a beautiful picture with just her words and the way she sang them. It was loud like a cannon breaking down the entrance to a fortress, but it was so uniquely stunning that it was hypnotizing.

  It only took me seconds to recognize her…the woman from the portrait.

  She finished on a high note, sucking in the souls of every person in the audience before the curtains came to a close. Roses were tossed on the stage, slipping from the hands of male admirers. The symphony pulled their bows away from their strings, and the silence that followed was almost depressing.

  The audience rose to its feet and clapped loudly, echoing off the high, gold-plated ceilings. It seemed to last for five minutes straight before people finally filed to the exits, wearing their suits and ball gowns.

  When Martin looked at me, fatherly pride radiated from his smile. “Amazing, isn’t she?”

  I hadn’t clapped for her, and I continued to relax in my seat as everyone else dispersed.

  “I know I’m asking you for the favor, but you couldn’t do better than Arwen Greco.”

  I wouldn’t insult the man with a sarcastic comment, so I remained silent. She was definitely beautiful. If I saw her in a bar, I would have bought her a drink. That voice would be amazing to listen to in bed. But no amount of beauty or talent could make me grateful for this marriage. She could give me beautiful children…but that wasn’t relevant because I didn’t want any.

  Martin took me backstage, and after weaving through different members of the production, we approached Arwen from behind. She was sitting at her dressing table, the white bulbs sticking out of the mirror frame to give her the ultimate lighting. She pulled the ribbon and flower out of her hair, letting the thick strands fall across her shoulders and slender neck.

  We stopped behind her, and that’s when I recognized this vantage point. This was exactly where she’d been sitting when the photograph was taken, which was then turned into a portrait.

  I felt as if I’d stepped back in time, to the moment I met her countenance for the first time.

  She looked up and recognized her father in the mirror. Within seconds, her carefree expression faded into one of obvious dislike. Her eyes fell in disappointment, and her anger was seething. It was the same look I gave my father—so I recognized it right away.

  She turned around on her stool and rose to her feet, her curves outlined in the skintight clothing that could barely stretch enough to allow her lungs to expand to make those incredible sounds. Her waistline was incredibly slender, so small my fingers could cup one side of her waist completely. Her petite stature didn’t mask her womanly charm, especially her fuckable chest. “What are you doing here?” She ignored me completely and faced her father with enough fire that it seemed like she could breathe it out of her mouth like a dragon.

  Martin remained calm despite his daughter’s rage. “Arwen, I’d like you to meet Maverick—”

  It was the first time she looked at me, and she didn’t look at me the way other women did. She wasn’t the least bit attracted to me, impressed with my broad shoulders or the way I filled out my suit. My structured jawline had no effect on her at all. She was indifferent. “It’s not nice to meet you. Disregard whatever my father told you. I’m not marrying you.” She grabbed her purse then stormed past us and headed to the exit.

  With a stony face, I turned back to Martin, realizing I’d made the wrong assumption. This woman despised this plan as much as I did, but instead of being relieved at the notion, I was concerned. Neither one of us wanted to participate in this vile arrangement proposed by our fathers, but if it didn’t happen, my mother would never be avenged. My father would never find peace.

  Martin sighed. “I’m sorry…she’s a little stubborn.”

  “A little?”

  He shrugged. “Gets it from her mother. She’ll come around…eventually.”

  I didn’t believe that for a second. “I’ll try to talk to her.”

  Martin released a sarcastic chuckle. “Maybe you are used to making mountains move—but not this one.”

  She left out of the back exit and took the stairs to the sidewalk near the road.

  I caught up with her, moving toward her as her heels clapped against the concrete path. She was still in the shadow of the theater, close to the statues of the two lions that protected the grounds of this historical landmark.

  “Arwen.”

  She stilled at the sound of her name, jumping because she’d assumed she was alone when she ducked out of her secret passageway. She turned on her heel and looked at me with the same fierce expression as before, her purse hanging off her shoulder. Now she looked even angrier at my appearance. “I said I don’t want to marry you—”

  “And I want to marry you even less.”

  Finally, she shut her mouth, shocked that I was the first man who didn’t want her. She pivoted the rest of her body and faced me, suspicion in her eyes.

  “I have no interest in being a married man. There’s no woman on this earth that could possibly keep my attention long enough. I like my life the way it is—working, drinking, and fucking. You may be beautiful, but not beautiful enough.”

  She never dropped her guard, but she didn’t seem offended by the rude comment I’d just launched at her. Her hoop earrings shifted with every movement she made, reflecting the distant light from the street corner. It was a warm night, and a gleam of sweat formed down her cleavage. “Then why are you chasing me?”

  “Because you’re running.” I spoke like a smartass because I wanted her to know exactly who I was. I was a fucking asshole—all the way through.

  “Don’t be a dick.”

  “I’m not being a dick. I am a dick.”

  She stepped closer to me, like she had a knife hidden somewhere in that skintight dress and she was looking for the perfect place to cut me. “Why did you agree to marry me? If you’re as powerful as my father says, then no one can force you to do anything.”

  Only one man could. “It’s my father’s wish.” When she was this close to me, I could smell her perfume, her hair spray, and the scent of the dusty curtains of the opera house all at the same time. I could even smell her confidence because it had a scent…of fresh
flowers.

  “It’s my father’s wish too, but you don’t see me bending the knee like a pussy.”

  My eyes widened because I couldn’t believe something so harsh came from such a pretty mouth. “You’ll be bending the knee with your ass in the air every night if your father’s enemies find you. They’ll fuck you bloody then stab you in the gut until you bleed out and die, scared and alone. Then they’ll hang you in the countryside until the police find your corpse, your eyes plucked out by the crows. I’m your only chance of survival.”

  She kept up her fearless stare, but her eyes showed a hint of doubt, like my vivid picture scared her on some level—as it should.

  “You’re too stupid to understand how dire your situation is. You literally have two options—life or death.”

  She continued to hold my gaze, not backing down or intimidated like most people. She was alone with me, her screams too far away to reach someone who could help her. But she didn’t seem to care about the danger she was in. She didn’t seem to understand the magnitude of her defeat. “Then I choose death.” She gave me a final look of dismissal before she turned around and walked off, her heels echoing against the concrete as she made her way further into the dark night.

  5

  Arwen

  What was I going to do?

  I couldn’t marry him.

  I wasn’t naïve about my current position. Everything Maverick said was true. I had no options right now. I could either marry him or subject myself to the cruel torture of the men who wanted to punish my father.

  I wasn’t stupid.

  I was just stubborn.

  My life had been perfect before this happened. I loved my job, I loved the man in my bed, and I loved my independent existence in this luxurious apartment. But all of that disappeared with the snap of a finger.

  Now I had to give it all up.

  Maverick warned me about the men who would hurt me.

  But what about him? Who was he?

  Would he hurt me just the same?

  I grabbed another bottle of wine from the cabinet and uncorked it, the room filling with the sound of the audible pop. I drank directly from the bottle once again, not wanting to hand-wash all the glasses sitting in the bottom of my sink.

  A knock sounded on the door—but I wasn’t expecting company.

  Then it opened, even though it’d been locked just a moment ago. Maverick emerged into the entryway, wearing dark blue jeans and a black t-shirt. Last time I saw him, his frame had been hidden underneath a suit, but now his clothing showed muscular arms, thick veins, and narrow hips. When he spoke about his bachelor life, it didn’t surprise me at all. He picked up ass on the town and fucked pussy until he wanted a different flavor. Why be with one woman when he could have them all?

  But that didn’t impress me. I’d been with men just like him before. Nothing special about him at all.

  A knife was sitting on my table, so I grabbed it and gripped it in my hand, the blade pointed in his direction. “Didn’t your mother teach you to knock?”

  “Yes. But I was a terrible child.” He walked farther into the room, making himself welcome when my hostility was unmistakable. He came right up to me and took the bottle from my hand. “Barsetti vineyards… You have good taste in wine.” He helped himself to a drink then sat in one of the dark wooden chairs, resting the bottom of the bottle on his thigh while his fingers still grasped the neck.

  I kept my grip on the knife even though he didn’t seem hostile.

  He took another drink and eyed the weapon in my hand. “Are you going to smear some butter across my abs?”

  My fingers loosened at the mockery. “Get the fuck out of my apartment, or I’ll stab this in your neck.”

  “Geez…you are not a lady at all.”

  “Did I say I was?”

  He set the bottle on the table. “Your father made it seem that way. But I guess he was just trying to make a sale.”

  I was being compared to livestock—and I didn’t appreciate that. “Get out.”

  “No.” His long legs stretched out beneath him, his knees apart and his muscles obvious in the places where his jeans hugged his body. His shirt was tight across his chest because his pectoral muscles were thick enough to make a dent in his clothes. His skin was very tanned, like he didn’t spend much time indoors—unless he was fucking. To every other woman in the world, he was a handsome and rich man.

  But to me, he was just a bastard. “I said, get out.”

  “And I said no.” He nodded to the other chair. “Take a seat.”

  “I’m not a dog.”

  “Never said you were…even though you’re acting like a bitch.”

  With lightning speed, I slammed the knife down onto his thigh, intending to stab him as deep as I could.

  He moved his leg out of the way then caught me so I wouldn’t slam into the hardwood floor underneath his chair. “Be careful. Don’t want you to hurt yourself.” He took the knife out of my hand and started to help me up.

  I pushed off him and straightened.

  “You’ve got great speed but terrible aim. I can give you some pointers if you want.”

  “Sure.” I crossed my arms. “How about we practice on you?”

  A slow grin crept onto his face, the first one I’d seen him make. “You’re a pain in my ass, but at least you’re entertaining. I’ll give you that.” He tossed the knife on the table. “You know why I’m here. You need to change your mind because we’re running out of time. Make this easier on everyone and take advantage of your only option.”

  “I said I’d rather die.”

  “Then you must not understand what death means if you choose that.”

  “No, I understand perfectly.”

  “Alright…” He crossed his legs and rested one ankle on the opposite knee, getting comfortable in the wooden chair. “Then you must not understand how terrible it feels to be raped by a group of men. How painful it is to be a punching bag. And since you’re so entertaining, they probably won’t kill you…so your one way out won’t be available to you. It sounds like I’m your only option. Never thought I’d have to work so hard to get a woman to marry me when I don’t even want to marry her.”

  “I think the answer is pretty obvious—you’re soft.”

  His smile disappeared immediately, like I’d provoked the beast within. “Trust me, I’m not soft.”

  “You’re begging a woman who despises you to marry you. That’s pretty pathetic, if you ask me.”

  “I’m negotiating a deal—a deal that needs to happen.”

  “To please your daddy?” I mocked. “I thought women were the ones with daddy issues…”

  His gaze darkened once more, like I was poking at a wound that was festering. “My mother was kidnapped, raped, and beaten. Before my father and I could rescue her, they killed her. You wanna know how?” He tilted his head as he looked at me. “They hanged her. Your father came to mine and said he would give us the man who destroyed my family if I married you.” He raised his hand and pointed it at me. “Why would I want to marry some annoying brat who doesn’t understand her father is trying to save her life? Why would I want to marry someone so goddamn stubborn, she actually thinks she has another way out? Why would I want to marry a little girl who thinks she’s some big, tough man? Trust me, the last thing I want to do is see you in a wedding dress and give you my name.” He rose to his feet, towering over me the second he stood upright. “But I have a duty to my family—to my mother. If this is the price I have to pay, so be it.” He stepped closer to me, his face coming near mine as he stared me down with pure loathing.

  It was the first time my tongue felt too big for my mouth, when I knew I’d shoved my foot too far down my throat. I shouldn’t pity this man, but I did—and I felt terrible for the insensitive comments I’d made. “I’m sorry about your mother…and the mean things I just said. I take it back.”

  “No such thing as takebacks.” He stepped back, his presence still dwarfing ev
erything in the room. “I need you to marry me because I have to avenge my mother. You need to marry me because no one will touch you as my wife. We need each other. So, stop prolonging it and just give in.”

  That was what anyone else would do…but I wasn’t like everyone else. “You don’t know me very well, but I’m not the kind of person that just gives up.”

  “Marrying me wouldn’t be giving up. You would be choosing life, not death. If you run, you won’t make it very far. If you stay, they’ll find you even quicker. Taking my name will blanket you with invincibility. My family isn’t a family you go to war with—especially not for a woman. You can keep your life, just with a few subtle changes.” He grabbed the bottle and took another drink, his head turning and showing the prominent angle of his jawline. It was so sharp, it seemed to be carved out of glass. His chin was covered with a shadow of hair, just as it’d been a few nights ago. With classic dark looks and brown eyes almost the color of coffee, he was pretty on the outside…but dark within.

  “I’m seeing someone.”

  “So? I’m seeing lots of someones.” He turned back to me.

  “I won’t sleep with you.”

  “Is that supposed to bother me?” The corner of his mouth rose in a smile. “You think you’re so beautiful that every man wants to fuck you? Sorry, sweetheart, but I’ve seen better.”

  I’d never met a man so cold and cruel. I didn’t care if he found me beautiful or not, but he was so vicious, it was hard to believe. But at least he wouldn’t force me to do anything I didn’t want to do. “I’ve seen better too.”

  “I doubt that…”

  I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at his misplaced arrogance. “Will you hurt me?”

  “Depends.”

  “Depends on what?” I demanded.

  “If you piss me off. Just don’t piss me off, and we won’t have any problems.”

  “Well, don’t piss me off, and I won’t kill you in your sleep.”

  He chuckled like I was nothing but comical to him. “I always see what’s going on—even with my eyes closed. Any other requests?”