Chapter 15
CALDER
The scent of toasted corn tortillas, seasoned beef, and a whole lot of salsa, sour cream, and cheese wafted up into the cool night air.
The gift I held in my hand wasn’t much of a peace offering, but it was perfect for the situation.
I was going to need every single calorie-infused bite to win myself back into my wife’s good graces.
Thorne had nailed me dead to rights back at the restaurant.
I had egged Cassian on—rightfully so, in my opinion.
But I could have let his insults slide off my back like I had countless times before.
There was something about the way he’d spoken to me, glared at me, that had raised my wolf’s hackles.
Maybe it was because now that Thorne knew the truth, I didn’t want to hide the truth anymore.
Or maybe it was because I was randier than a dog in heat, thanks to Thorne’s and my little—little, ha—make-out session.
That lack of release had me on edge in more ways than one.
I wasn’t going to pretend I hadn’t enjoyed watching that vein bulge in the middle of his forehead. But it wasn’t worth pissing off the only person in town whose opinion mattered to me. Sometimes spite only went so far.
So, here I stood on the sprawling front porch of the Wolfe estate, with a grease-stained Hex Mex bag in hand. Thorne had told me to show up with an apology in hand, and that was exactly what I intended to do.
Reaching up, I grasped the metal door knocker’s ring and gave it a good thump. Barely a moment passed before the heavy, double-sided mahogany door swung inward with nary a sound. Someone kept those hinges nice and oiled, and that someone stood on the other side of the grand entryway.
Leopold Gish—the Wolfe family butler—hadn’t changed a day since I’d last seen him.
Nor had his posture. He still stood as rigid as ever, almost like someone had stuck a rather large stick up his ass that he’d never successfully removed.
Much like the rest of the staff employed by the Wolfes, good ol’ Leo was a werewolf.
Thorne’s parents maintained a strict policy that required keeping their inner circle—butlers included—within the species.
But unlike Thorne and her brothers, Leo sat remarkably lower on the social hierarchy, a fact he overcompensated for by looking down his bulbous nose at absolutely everyone who wasn’t a blood relative of his employers.
Like me.
I found it entirely too ironic, considering he was just as much of a mutt as I was with no clear bloodline to wave in people’s faces.
As though to prove my point, Leo’s narrowed gaze dropped to the greasy paper bag in my hands, and he gave a disapproving sniff. It was no secret that he didn’t like me—he’d gone out of his way more than once to inform me of that little fact.
“Mr. Rook,” he said, his voice flat with cold dismissal.
No matter how many times I asked him to call me Calder, he absolutely refused. He despised me, but decorum dictated he address me properly. For a laugh, I’d once suggested he use Mr. Wolfe to address me, seeing as how Thorne and I were married. The old dog nearly dropped dead on the spot.
“Hey there, Leo,” I replied smoothly, stepping over the threshold without invitation.
His nostrils flared. “It’s Leopold. I will remind you, again, that we are not friends, nor are we acquaintances who operate on a nickname basis.”
I ignored his comment—like always—and clapped a hand on his shoulder. The force sent him staggering forward a step, and he had to catch himself on the doorframe.
“Could have fooled me,” I said. “Here I thought we were best buds. Sharing in our darkest secrets and whatnot.”
Leo didn’t so much as bat an eyelash at my sarcasm. “I allowed you in because Miss Theodora explicitly requested I show you to the den upon your arrival. Were the choice mine, I wouldn’t have allowed you past the gate wards.”
I whistled between my teeth—a sound that clearly set him on edge.
“Miss Theodora,” I echoed. “Damn, Leo. You must have a death wish using her full name like that. You know how much she hates that.”
“Yes, well. Miss Theodora is a Wolfe,” he retorted while adjusting his lapels and brushing off his shoulder where I dared touch him. “She deserves our utmost respect. Something you would do well to remember. And for the last time, it is Leopold.”
I waited silently for a moment. When Leo made no effort to move, I raised my brows and gestured down the hall.
“Well? Don’t you have explicit orders to show me to the den?
” Not that I needed the escort. I knew the Wolfe estate inside and out.
But walking into the den unannounced was a grave insult in this house.
Leo possessed enough grace not to roll his eyes, but his sigh echoed through the corridor as he started walking.
He kept two paces ahead of me, his polished shoes majestically silent on the hardwood floor.
How he managed that, I had no idea. I was by no means awkward or ungraceful, but not even I moved like Leo.
I’d always thought of him more like a cat than a wolf.
He rarely hunted, and when he walked, it was with this stealthy eeriness that wolves simply couldn’t replicate.
It wouldn’t surprise me if one day I found him lurking in a dark corner, ready to tear my throat out.
Without a word, he led me through the estate. But as we approached the heavy oak den doors, the muffled sound of voices bled into the hallway.
“So, let me get this straight,” Ricky’s voice rumbled through the thick wood. “He walked away from you and shattered both your lives—”
“All to keep us off the government’s radar,” Felix finished.
“And you just believe that?” Cassian demanded.
“Yes,” Thorne shot back. “I know Calder, and I know when he’s lying. He’s not. Look, you may not like his choices, but he did what he thought was best at that moment.”
A low growl reverberated through the den and into the hallway. “That doesn’t excuse him. He should have come to us. Should have trusted we were strong enough to protect ourselves—”
“Oh, enough, Cassian,” Thorne snapped. I could practically picture her pinching the bridge of her nose. “Of all of us here, I’m the only one justified in holding a grudge. Yes, he left. Yes, you were friends. But you’re acting as though he broke your heart.”
Beside me, Leopold froze. For the first time since I’d met the man, his stoic, stick-up-his-ass mask had completely slipped.
Shock slackened his aristocratic features.
He’d clearly heard every word, and his brain was actively struggling to reconcile the mutt he despised with the man they were discussing.
I leaned toward him, hiding the sharp ache in my chest with a crooked grin. “Uh oh. Don’t tell me your opinion of me is changing, Leo. I don’t think my ego could take it.”
Leopold blinked. His spine snapped straight as he instantly composed himself, dragging his mask of superiority right back into place. He adjusted his pristine cuffs, his upper lip quivering with renewed disdain.
“Hardly, Mr. Rook,” he sniffed. “Noble idiocy is still idiocy. And you are currently keeping Miss Theodora waiting.”
Without waiting for my response, the butler reached out and pushed both heavy oak doors open without so much as a knock, stepping aside so I could enter.
The heavy doors immediately clicked shut behind me, sealing me inside the den with two emotional Wolfes, two amused bystanders, and one austere butler with a chip the size of an iceberg on his shoulder.
Cassian and Thorne stood locked in a silent standoff.
My wife hovered behind a massive oak desk, her hands planted flat on the polished wood.
She looked about ready to slaughter her twin—an expression I knew well.
I’d always carried a Snickers bar for moments like these, to appease the hangry beast when it struck. Tonight, I came bearing tacos.
Cassian, however, glared at me, his jaw locked as he clearly struggled to readjust his perspective of me.
Off to the side, Ricky leaned against the stone fireplace, his massive arms crossed, while Felix lounged in a nearby leather armchair. The two wore equally amused expressions, and for a moment, I pictured them eating popcorn while watching the drama between their two youngest siblings unfold.
Cassian actually took a step forward, but I ignored him completely and kept my focus locked on my wife.
I walked straight past Cassian and stopped at the edge of the desk.
“You told me to show up with an apology in hand,” I said, keeping my voice steady as I lifted the bag.
I reached inside, pulled out the large plastic container, and set it down right over the Wolfe family crest carved into the desk. I popped the lid off. Steam rolled out, carrying the scent of three perfectly stuffed tacos.
Thorne’s gaze dropped to the food. Her lips parted, her rigid posture faltering for just a fraction of a second as her stomach let out an audible rumble.
I took a step back and gave her a slow, careful smile. “I’m sorry for how I acted at the restaurant. It was rude and immature. From here on out, I will be the picture of a perfect gentleman.” I even drew a cross over my chest to emphasize my point.
Heat flashed in her eyes, and for a long moment, I wasn’t sure whether she was going to shove a taco in her face or drag me over the desk by my collar. Both were equally acceptable responses. Though perhaps the latter could wait until her brothers left.
Without breaking eye contact, Thorne reached out, picked up the closest taco, and took a massive bite.
Her eyelids fluttered shut for a fraction of a second as the seasoned beef and melted cheese hit her tongue, temporarily wiping away the absolute disaster of the restaurant.
She let out a soft groan of pure appreciation as the deep-fried carbs hit her system.
Cass sneered. A low, vibrating growl rumbled deep in his chest. “Seriously? You’re forgiving him because he brought you tacos?”