The Wolf’s Billionaire by Layla Silver
Chapter 6 – Bastian
Staring at myself in the giant bathroom mirror, I glowered. You are a sketchy bastard, you know that?
Irritated, I turned on my heel, whacking at the light switch with one hand as I stalked out of the bathroom and into the suite. It was absurdly late, even for me, and I could feel my long day catching up with me as I crossed the dark room. Shoving the covers down, I climbed in and flopped onto my back. I’d cranked up the heat in my room so that I wouldn’t have to wear more than shorts to bed and now it was too warm. Kicking the thin, unimpressive blankets further off to the other side of the bed, I scowled at the ceiling.
I should have just told Ainsley everything. I should have come clean about who I was and what I was doing in town during that first damn cup of coffee. She’d have understood. We hadn’t owed each other anything the night we met in Tucson, least of all our life stories. The fact that I’d used my “travel alias” wouldn’t throw her. And if I’d told her before she spilled to me about the Inn at Barcombe, she’d have had no grounds to doubt my interest in her or my good intentions.
But I hadn’t.
Instead, I’d told her I wanted to court her, for fuck’s sake, and then let her tell me all about the Inn project. Now I was screwed and it was my own damn fault because there was no way that her friend Kaia’s Renly wasn’t the same Renly who happened to have the misfortune of being Ms. Carrington’s son.
There was also no way this Inn project that Ainsley was so excited about and committed to wasn’t the project that was giving the Carrington Foundation fits. The project that my father suspected might involve fraud.
I groaned. If it did involve fraud, Ainsley was fucked whether I intervened or not. Her best friend was running the project and would almost certainly face jail time. Even if it could be proved that Ainsley knew nothing about the illegal aspect of things, she’d be out of the impressive job she’d been promised and her reputation in the industry would be compromised.
If it didn’t involve fraud, Ainsley’s job and friendships would be safe from the courts but not from the Carrington Foundation. I had no illusions that Ms. Carrington would just walk away and stop kicking up a fuss if my little research trip came back with no evidence of misdoings.
Either way, I was not in a good position.
I’d completely blown my best chance to come clean to Ainsley about who I was and why I was here without looking suspicious. Not that she struck me as being the particularly suspicious type but there’d been something in her eyes whenever her family came up. Something about the way she wouldn’t quite meet my gaze, even if she had been a second before, and the way her hands tightened around her mug, just for an instant.
It was more than being a gentle soul. Someone had hurt her. Left her doubting and self-conscious. If I all of the sudden confessed to what would unavoidably look like ulterior motives, there was every chance she’d shut me out.
Goddammit. I needed to stop bitching and make a plan. First things first, I told myself.
That much was easy, as least. Courting Ainsley had to take precedence over anything else. I needed to make sure that by the time I figured out how to tell her the whole truth, she trusted me—and wanted me—enough not to walk away.
A close second on the priority list was getting to the bottom of what was happening with the Inn project. If it wasn’t above board in any way, I needed to know so that I could get Ainsley out and get her distanced from the project before things went bad. If the project was clean, I needed to find out how prepared Renly Carrington and his new wife were to protect their investment if his mother got more direct about sending someone to cause problems.
The third priority—way down the list, really—was to start looking at future possibilities. If the Inn project imploded, I wanted to have something to offer Ainsley instead. A fresh start, anywhere she wanted. If the Inn was a solid project, then I needed to get started on the process of relocating myself here permanently. In theory, I wouldn’t have to leave my job to do that, but I was too pragmatic to let myself think I could stay at my father’s firm. If I moved here, if I made a new life with Ainsley, I’d have to be all in. That was going to require a shit-ton of work. Boring, tedious, logistical work.
That was all right. She was worth it.
Heaving a sigh, I closed my eyes. Alone in the dark, I dreamed of having Ainsley in bed beside me, her warm body snuggled safe and contentedly against mine.
I’ll make this work, I swore silently. You’ll see, Ainsley.
***
The Slopes turned out to be a photographer’s wet dream.
It was a full 36 hours after my midnight coffee date with Ainsley before everything was dug out enough and her staffing stabilized enough for us to go. Even then we ended up making the trek around the property in snowshoes.
Somehow, that only added to the haunting charm of the abandoned snack shacks we explored in the far reaches of the property with their peeling paint and cracked glass, and the glittering, untouched perfection of the ice-encrusted lifts that thrust up out of deep snowbanks toward the cloudless azure sky.
Part of me despaired that my photos couldn’t capture the crisp, clean pine scent that perfumed the air or the crunch of our snowshoes against the ground as we walked. It was perfect and being outdoors with Ainsley in the sunlight was a stark contrast to sneaking time with her at the hotel.
Free of her responsibilities and professional suit, she was vibrant. Having grown up in the area, she was a font of fascinating tidbits of local knowledge. With a little encouragement, I found she was happy to share stories of The Slopes in better days—how her sister had taught an unofficial kiddie skiing class one winter and how proud Kaia had been when she’d gotten her first job on the premises.
Piece by piece, as we trudged for miles through the snow, I started putting together a picture of her life. Every new facet I gleaned a glimpse of made me all the more fiercely protective. She never complained but she’d clearly had a rough time. She deserved good things and I wanted very badly to be the one to give them to her.
We were working our way back toward the central point of the resort when the roar of a snowmobile reached us through the trees. Ainsley stopped and I paused beside her, watching as a red Polaris geared for challenging terrain shot into view. Its rider did a big circle around us before skidding to a clean stop nearby.
“Renly,” Ainsley greeted with a smile as the rider hiked his snow goggles up.
“Ainsley.” He nodded warmly before fixing his gaze on me. “This must be your friend.”
“Bas,” Ainsley supplied, helpfully. “Bas, this is Kaia’s husband, Renly.”
Crunching forward through the snow and slinging the strap of my camera around my neck, I held out my hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”
Renly swung off the snowmobile with surprising grace and shook my hand, his firm grip making it clear that he wasn’t the type of man who screwed around or was easily intimidated. Up close, I could see that his eyes were green. Keen and sharp, they raked over me in a way that didn’t quite make me bristle but very much made me aware I was being sized up.
I swallowed a laugh. If I’d had any doubts about him being a Carrington, that alone would have put them to rest. Now the only question was whether he was made in his mother’s image or if she was unhappy because he’d decided to assert some independence.
“Same,” he returned my greeting perfunctorily. “Always happy to meet a friend of Ainsley’s.”
His tone was smooth but there was no mistaking his meaning. He had no illusions about my intentions when it came to Ainsley and he wasn’t about to sit by and do nothing if I toyed with her.
That was intriguing. I’d gotten the impression that he was a relatively new addition to Kaia’s life and therefore Ainsley’s—a timing that would square with the launch of the resort project and the Carrington Foundation’s fussing. If he’d only just gotten involved in that recently, though, he’d taken to his role as protector of his wife’s best friend unnaturally quickly.
Something else is going on here, I thought. Whatever dynamics were in play, I was missing pieces of the puzzle. Lucky thing for me, then, that I’d always had more than a little muckraker in me.
“This is a fantastic place you’ve got here,” I praised, dialing up the charm. “I’d love to hear more about it. Maybe I can buy you a drink sometime?”
Carrington’s smile was predatory. “What are you doing tonight?”
I glanced at Ainsley.
“I’m off night shift finally,” she said darting a glance at Renly before looking back at me, her cheeks pinking a bit. “I was going to go to bed early.”
“Great.” I gave Carrington—it was hard to think of him as “Renly” now that he’d squarely positioned himself as a potential adversary—an inquisitive look. “Where do you like to drink?”
“I’ll come to you.” He shrugged one shoulder. “There won’t be anywhere impressive until I open a restaurant of my own around here, but the hotel bar has enough in stock to be tolerable. Eight o’clock?”
“I’ll be there.”
Nodding, he turned his attention back to Ainsley. “I have some information to send you. Hiring stuff from the lawyers. Let me know what you think after you’ve had a chance to read it.”
Ainsley nodded. “Of course.”
“And you’ll call if you need anything.”
Ainsley bit her lip and turned a darker shade of pink. “Renly—”
He held up his hands. “Comes with the job. Just say yes, please.”
That made her laugh. “Yes.”
His job as her future boss? His job as the husband of her friend? Or something else? I wasn’t sure but I certainly intended to find out.
“Right.” Popping his goggles back into place, Renly inclined his head. “Have fun kids. Watch the construction area.”
Striding back to his snowmobile, he swung onto it, revved it to life, and rocketed away.
When the sound died down, I cocked an eyebrow at Ainsley. “He seems concerned about your safety with me.”
Ainsley’s expression tightened in a way that made alarm bells ring in my head. “Kaia…” she hesitated, her eyes dropping. “She’s responsible—she feels like she’s responsible for everyone else. It’s… complicated. As her ma—other half, Renly tries to shoulder that, too.”
“I see.” I chose my words carefully, my heart beating a little faster as potentially ugly scenarios played themselves out in the back of my mind. “But it’s just… protective. They don’t make you do anything that you don’t want to. Do they?”
Ainsley’s beautiful eyes blew wide. “No! No, it’s not like that at all.” Her face went deadly serious. “Kaia would die for us, Bas—any of us. In a heartbeat.”
Taken aback, I blinked. “Oh.”
Suddenly agitated, Ainsley spun away. “Come on, we should get going or there won’t be enough time to explore everything while the light is still good.” She started determinedly marching away, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.
Cursing myself for having triggered whatever this was, I hurried to catch up.
***
By the time the sun set and we headed back into town for dinner, Ainsley had shaken off whatever it was that I’d inadvertently stirred up. When I insisted on buying dinner, she shyly introduced me to a hole-in-the-wall Italian place I’d never have found on my own—which, given my talent for sniffing out great things, was saying something.
While I assured her the meal was delicious, in truth I barely tasted it. Watching her peel out of her various layers down to a soft, powder-blue sweater utterly ruined my ability to concentrate on anything else. Loose and modest as the garment was, it brought out the unique color of her eyes and set off the flush of her cheeks.
It also made me think of the pair of lace panties she’d inadvertently left behind in my room in Tucson. That left me unable to shake the desire to find out if she had something similar on under her various layers tonight.
More than a decade of practice in making small talk while my mind was squarely elsewhere enabled me to keep the conversation going despite my distraction, but paying any attention at all to the food was a lost cause. The only flavor my brain was interested in was the sweetness of her skin. The need to know if she’d taste even better coming on my tongue was unbearable. Not finding out during our first time together was an unforgivable oversight and not a mistake I’d make again.
When we’d eaten our fill and I’d paid the bill, we bundled back up and returned to the hotel.
“I’d invite you to my room for a nightcap,” I said as we got out of the SUV, “but I haven’t stocked the fridge with anything interesting yet.”
“Oh, I couldn’t go anyway.” She stopped on the sidewalk and glanced toward to the building. “Company rules. I can only visit guests for professional purposes during working hours.”
“Of course.” That was either going to be incredibly inconvenient or a massive boon. “Can I walk you to your door, or is that not allowed either?”
“Well, outside is all public space, right?” Her smile was impish. “I can’t see how anyone could complain. And it is a bit icy still.”
“It is,” I agreed gamely, falling in beside her as we headed for the back corner of the building. “It would be unsafe for you to walk yourself.”
As we neared her door, Ainsley fidgeted. “There aren’t cameras or anything,” she said, punching her code into the digital lock. “And none of my staff would say something if they saw.” She looked up at me through her long, thick lashes. “I don’t have anything good in the fridge either, but—”
Stepping in close, I brushed my lips across hers. The kiss was light and just enough to make her catch her breath.
“We both know,” I murmured in her ear, “that I don’t care what’s in your fridge.” I ran a fingertip down the front zipper of her jacket. “And I guarantee you’ve got everything I want.”
