The Wolf and the Sheep Read online

  Flattery wouldn’t work on me—even if he meant it. “I’m still so angry all of this is happening. The only reason I’m marrying Maverick is because he foretold my fate if I rejected him. He’s a cold and irritating man, but I’ll admit he’s better than the alternative…” At least the man wouldn’t rape me. At least he wouldn’t hurt me…I think. I tried to stab him and he didn’t retaliate, so I was probably safe. “But I’m losing Dante…I’m losing my freedom…I’m losing everything.” My hands rested on the table, and I finally lifted my gaze to meet my father’s eyes. “I’m so angry with you for all of this. This is entirely your fault.” It was a cruel thing to say, but I didn’t care. “I’ll never marry a man I love because of you. I’ll never have the family I want because of you. You’ve given me to Maverick to protect me, but if you really wanted to protect me, you should have made different choices.” It pained me to speak to my father this way, but the situation was crushing my chest.

  My father looked at the table as he gathered his bearings. After a deep sigh, his shoulders sagged, and he looked at me again. “You’re absolutely right, princess. It is my fault. I shouldn’t have been so arrogant. I should have been more cautious. Now I’m leaving you with nothing… It’s terrible.”

  Hearing his admission didn’t make me feel better. It didn’t give me any satisfaction to be validated. The pain was exactly the same.

  “I’d do anything to take it all back…”

  I knew he would. My father had made a mistake, but he wasn’t evil. “I know…”

  “I wish this wasn’t happening. I wish you weren’t marrying a man you don’t love. I wish for a lot of things…but wishing doesn’t get you anywhere.”

  No, it doesn’t.

  “But Maverick is a powerful and honorable man. He’ll keep you safe.”

  I wasn’t looking for a man for security. I was looking for a man for love.

  He saw the disappointment in my eyes. “I understand if you hate me.”

  His actions were enough to garner that reaction, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel that way. “I don’t. I never could.”

  His hand moved on top of mine, like that meant the world to him. “Princess, there’s something I have to tell you…”

  My eyes lifted to meet his. So much terrible news had been dumped on my plate already. Could there possibly be more? Why couldn’t the universe give me a break? Why couldn’t life be fair…the way it used to be.

  He squeezed my hand as he took a deep breath, wincing like his words were painful before they even came out of his mouth. “I have cancer…and I don’t have much time.”

  8

  Arwen

  Just when I hit rock bottom, I fell a little further.

  Now everything was numb, ice-cold, and fragile. My fingers were frozen to the bone, my heart stopped beating with the same vitality, and my legs weren’t strong enough to hold my weight. The idea of marrying Maverick killed me…but this was so much worse.

  So much fucking worse.

  I couldn’t show my tears, not when my father was the one who had to die. My job was to be there for him, to help him through this difficult time and make him as comfortable as possible. He only had weeks left, so I put aside our issues and was the daughter he needed.

  I stayed at the house, cooked all of his meals, watched TV with him, and helped him with anything he needed. We watched his favorite movies, looked through old photographs, and tried to remember happier times.

  But when he was asleep, I let myself cry.

  Let myself sob into my darkest night.

  I sat at the dining table with a cup of hot tea in front of me, watching my tears splash into the steam. When my father left this world, I would be the last of my line, the last of my kind. With no brothers or sisters, I was completely alone in this world.

  Maverick would be my only family…by name.

  I still didn’t want to marry him, but my father’s demise made me understand how alone I truly was. He wouldn’t be there for advice. He wouldn’t be there for guidance. I would be completely on my own—with vultures following me.

  Perhaps Maverick was my savior after all.

  My phone rang, and Dante’s name popped up on the screen.

  I answered it, tears audible in my voice. “Hey…”

  He sighed when he heard my sadness. “I’m so sorry…”

  “I know.” I wiped my tears with the back of my thumb and willed myself to stop crying. Crying wouldn’t change anything—but I was so devastated.

  “Is there anything I can do?” His deep voice came over the line, carrying the weight of his sorrow.

  “No. But I’m going to stay with him until…it’s time.”

  “I understand. If there’s anything I can do, just let me know.”

  “Okay…” I stared into the hot tea in front of me, wishing this were a nightmare I would wake up from. I wished this were just a bump in the road. But the harsh truth was my reality…and it was unbearable.

  “So, it’s still happening on Saturday?”

  “Yeah…” I really had no choice now. There was no going back…but there was nowhere for me to go. Dante certainly couldn’t keep me safe. He would be murdered with me. “You told me how you feel about it, so I understand if you want to stop seeing each other…” The last thing I needed was to lose the only comfort that I had, but I knew he couldn’t fix this for me. No one could.

  “No…I’m not ready for that.”

  “Good.” I needed a man to get through the dark nights I was about to face. “Me neither.”

  When I opened the large mahogany door, I looked up into the face of Maverick.

  With his dark hair, coffee-colored eyes, and the shadow of hair along his structured jawline, he stared at me with that stony expression, as if he had no grasp of what a smile was. The bright sunshine of the summer behind him brought a darkness over the front of his body, matching the dark blazer he wore and his dark jeans.

  I kept my hold on the door handle and stared him down, matching his stoniness with my coldness.

  He shifted his weight slightly, straightening his shoulders as if I were an opponent rather than his fiancée. Whenever this man was near me, his posture was always hostile. Maybe that was directed me—or maybe that was just how he was.

  “Are you going to invite me inside, or should I just barge in like usual?”

  My hand gripped the handle because I was tempted to slam the door in his face. “Why are you here?”

  “Your father told me you were looking after him.” Instead of waiting for my invitation, he stepped inside and pushed past me.

  I stared at the landscape through the door, the red geraniums blooming out of the pots along the walkway. It was a beautiful day, but I was in no mood to enjoy it. I shut the door and turned around. “You knew the entire time.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Yes.” At over six feet, he made a dent in the enormous room. His muscled shoulders stretched out his blazer, and his veined hands peeked out from the ends of his sleeves. His jeans were snug, showing the definition of his muscular legs in some places. He was a beautiful man with a beautiful body—but an ugly soul.

  “And you didn’t think you should mention that to me?”

  “It’s not my place.”

  Hearing that my father was dying was horrifying—no matter who said it. “He’s sleeping right now.”

  “I’m not here for him.”

  “I hope you aren’t here for me—because I’m not yours yet.”

  The corner of his mouth rose in a smile, like he found my attitude comical rather than intimidating. Sometimes, Dante was put off by my brashness, and other men didn’t appreciate it either. They said I was too much to handle. But Maverick clearly thought I was a joke. “I have something for you.” He pulled out a small black box from his pocket then stepped toward me. He snapped open the top and revealed a princess cut diamond ring with diamonds along the band. The diamonds were clearly flawless—because they were practically b
linding.

  I stared it, shocked that Maverick was capable of picking out something so elegant and stunning. It was exactly the ring I’d always dreamed of getting. It was so simple but so sleek. I yanked my gaze away from the brilliant diamonds and looked at him again.

  “You like it.”

  “I never said that.”

  He pulled the ring out of the box then grabbed my left hand. “You don’t need to.” In something akin to a romantic gesture, he slipped the ring onto my finger. Except it wasn’t romantic at all, just a formality. He kept his eyes glued to mine as he released my hand.

  It was a perfect fit. Just to be stubborn, I didn’t raise my hand to admire it, even though I would the second he was gone.

  He slipped the box back into his pocket. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Your father and I have business to discuss.”

  “I’ll let you know how he’s feeling. He’s getting worse by the day.”

  “Then we can’t put this off.”

  “Thanks for being so sensitive about it…”

  He stepped closer to me and lowered his voice. “I’m sorry your father is dying. But my mother is already dead. Don’t expect me to cry a river for you.”

  “At least you still have a parent…” This man was evil—right down to the bone.

  His eyes shifted back and forth slightly as he looked into mine. He could command soldiers with that look, lead countries with that stare. He was strong and ominous, every bit as unnerving as my father described. If there had to be someone looking out for me, it seemed like there was no one better. “The grass is always greener on the other side…”

  9

  Maverick

  Father reached the door first. “He better not die today, not before he gives me what I want.” He pounded his fist against the door, slamming his knuckles into the wood like he was there to capture the fortress rather than just pay a visit.

  If Arwen thought I had no compassion, wait until she met my father. “We’ll get what we want. But let’s be delicate. The man only has weeks, if not days, to live.” I didn’t have much pity for Martin—but I did pity his daughter.

  My father turned on me like I’d insulted him. “Was anyone delicate when your mother died?”

  God, I knew he’d say that.

  When his cheeks started to puff, I knew he was losing his temper. “Was anyone sensitive to my wife being raped—”

  “We’re here and he’s alive. So let’s just get what we came for. No need to make a scene.”

  “What did I say about interrupting me?” He grabbed me by the neck and started to choke me.

  I threw my arm down and pushed him off. “Enough.”

  “If I had my gun, I’d shoot you.”

  You’d think I’d be numb to his cruelty, but it was like a fresh wound every single time. “Then how would you hold up your end of the deal? I’m the one marrying her—like you asked.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I’d shoot to wound, not to kill.”

  “Be careful. Because I shoot to kill—every time.”

  My father stared at me coldly, his eyes turning aggressive at my threat. He’d been getting away with his offensive behavior for almost a year. His wife died, so he thought it entitled him to be the world’s biggest ass.

  I could only tolerate so much.

  Arwen opened the door. “That’s quite a loud knock you’ve got there…”

  My father looked her over, unimpressed, and then stepped inside the house without issuing any kind of greeting.

  She watched him move past her before she cocked an eyebrow and looked at me. “I see where you get it from.”

  That was the worst insult she’d ever given me. I followed my father inside. “How is he?”

  My father wouldn’t even tolerate the simple question. “It doesn’t matter how he is. He made a promise to us, and he will keep it…unless he wants his daughter to end up like your mother.” He walked off and headed to the dining room in the rear of the house.

  She watched him go, her eyebrow staying raised like she couldn’t believe his audacity. She turned her gaze back to me, still in shock at his rudeness.

  “Now I don’t seem so bad, huh?” I smiled even though I didn’t feel an ounce of joy inside my body, then headed to the entryway.

  “I’ll get my father…” Arwen took the stairs.

  When I passed the kitchen, I took a bottle of wine and a few glasses then joined my father.

  He was huffing and puffing like a wolf about to blow the house down. He looked straight ahead and drummed his fingers against the table, so noticeably anxious that he made all the figures in the paintings anxious too.

  I poured the wine and pushed the glass toward him.

  He ignored it.

  Maybe it was an evil thought to have, but sometimes I wished my father had died and my mother had lived.

  At least she was a good person.

  Martin walked into the room moments later, looking worse than the last time I saw him. He walked a little slower, breathed a little heavier, and it seemed like his skin was about to drip off his face.

  Arwen pulled out the chair for him and helped him sit down. Concern was in her blue eyes, and she looked after her father with obvious love. She wasn’t the fierce woman with an attitude that could bite. Now she’d been reduced to her rawest emotions, her fears. Her father was going to die, and there was nothing she could do to help him…but she tried anyway. “How about some water?” She rubbed his shoulder as she looked down at him.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  She walked off, her diamond ring shining on her left hand.

  My eyes went to the portrait of her on the wall. Now I noticed a distinct contrast between the painting and her physical appearance. That ring made all the difference in the world, and without her wearing it, she seemed like a changed person. It subdued her somehow, like a bridle on a horse.

  My father cut right to the chase. “Ramon. Where is he going to be and when?”

  Martin turned to me. “It’s nice to see you again, Maverick. I’m sorry I missed your visit yesterday—and thank you for the beautiful ring—”

  “I asked you a question.” My father took over the conversation once more, ignoring anything else that wasn’t relevant to what he wanted. He was focused on one task only—to the detriment of everyone around him. “I don’t give a shit about your pleasantries. We made a deal, and you need to spit it out now or I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Arwen stepped into the room, carrying the glass of water in her hands. She wore a dark blue dress that complemented her dark hair. Pearls encircled her neck, and her hair was pulled to the side, hanging down in a braid. The glass hit the table with a noticeable thud as she faced off against my father.

  Arwen didn’t understand boundaries.

  But neither did my father.

  Martin cleared his throat. “Princess—”

  She raised her voice a little louder, matching my father’s rage with her own. “Or you’ll what?”

  My father stared her down, clearly surprised someone was standing their ground against him. He didn’t know if he should get up and slap her in the face or just smash her head into the wall.

  “Asshole, this is how deals work.” She placed her hand on her hip. “You get your shit when both sides of the deal are completed. I haven’t married your son, and you haven’t gotten your information. That means we don’t owe you a damn thing yet. So shut your mouth, or I’ll shove this bottle of wine so far up your tight ass—”

  My father launched to his feet. “You—”

  “No.” I was in between them, so I rose to my feet and blocked them from each other. My father wouldn’t hesitate to hit a woman. I’d seen him do it before—just not to my mother. I grabbed his arm and kept him steady so he wouldn’t launch himself at Arwen. “We both need something here. So let’s all shut our mouths and focus on what matters. Father, sit.” I turned to Arwen. “Be silent.”

  She grabbed the water again, still staring at
my father with obvious threat. She wasn’t scared of him like most people—because she had no idea what kind of crimes he could commit. She walked to the other side of the table, her heels clapping against the floor as she moved. Then she set the glass of water in front of her father.

  I guided my father back down into the chair. “Let’s get what we need and leave.”

  When my father’s attention was directed to the reason we came here, he calmed slightly. He lowered himself to his chair, his back rigid with tension, and finally stared at Martin.

  I looked at Arwen. “Leave us.”

  Her attitude fired up again. “So you can berate my father—”

  I stood instantly, my next words exploding like a command. “Don’t make me ask you again.” I was ordering her out of the room for her own good, because I couldn’t protect her from my father if she provoked him too much.

  “I’m not a dog,” she said calmly. “I don’t obey orders—”

  “Princess.” Her father patted her hand. “Let the men talk. I’m getting hungry, so how about you start dinner?”

  She was too smart to believe anything he said. She stared at me with those narrowed eyes and tightly pressed lips, like this was far from over. Then she turned on her heel and slowly left the room, her hips shaking from left to right because of her feminine curves. When she was finally gone, so was the tension.

  My father got right down to business. “I need all the details, Martin. Since you’re almost dead, time is of the essence.”

  When my father got what he wanted, he stormed out of the house and left me behind.

  He didn’t need me anymore. He disappeared just as abruptly as he’d arrived. He didn’t say another word, didn’t even give his condolences to Martin about his illness.

  I drank my glass of wine until it was empty.

  Martin stared at the painting of his daughter for a long time like I wasn’t even in the room. “When I lost my wife, I was the same way. Bitter about everything. I didn’t lose her in such a violent way, so I can’t even begin to imagine how your father feels.”