Chapter 29
MYA
“Wolves are among the most socially intelligent animals on the planet. They share information constantly through posture, sound, and subtle shifts in movement.”
Onscreen, a pack moves through the forest in quiet formation, each member aware of the others without needing to look.
“They don’t just hunt together,” the narrator continues. “They raise their young collectively. Protect the vulnerable. The survival of one depends on the awareness of all.”
Brianna leans closer to the television, eyes bright. “See? That one’s the leader. But he still waits for the others.”
I smile, nudging her gently. “Because leaders don’t go alone.”
“They’re a pack,” she says simply, like that explains everything.
A gray wolf lifts its head, ears twitching, and the others respond instantly, changing direction as one.
“They talk without talking,” Brianna adds. “That’s why they’re so smart.”
I nod. “They trust each other.”
The front door opens.
Moments later, Worth steps into the living room, jacket draped over one arm, pausing when he takes in the sight of us on the floor—pencils scattered, a half-finished wolf sketch laying between us.
“Did I interrupt something important?” he teases.
Brianna looks up at him, grinning. “We’re learning about wolves.”
Worth looks at the screen, then back to us. “That explains the serious atmosphere.”
I smile. “Brianna is very invested.”
“She’s been talking about this documentary for weeks,” he says, setting his jacket aside. “I assumed it was a cartoon.”
Brianna scoffs. “Cartoons are for kids, Dad.”
A chuckle escapes him. “Noted.”
I lean back on my hands, watching the two of them—how naturally Brianna gravitates toward her father, how easily he softens around her. It’s been a few weeks since the gala—and even though nothing sexual has happened again between me and him, everything has shifted.
I’ve been here every day. Just… here. Some days we just sit on the floor, drawing wolves, as Brianna explains—in great detail—why they’re better than dogs and how one day she wants to see them in the wild.
Sometimes it’s just the two of us, sometimes Maggie is there too, and Worth joins us for dinner when he can.
Bri and I have grown fond of each other quickly. Faster than I expected. Faster than I probably should have.
Worth watches us now with a smile.
“How about I take my girls out for dinner when the doc is done?”
My girls.
My stomach flips, tiny dancers somersaulting in my chest.
Even though I keep reminding myself that this is just for the sake of the arrangement, my heart can’t help but react to Worth’s softness.
In front of the world, he’s this big bad wolf, a man people fear crossing.
But in front of Brianna, he’s something else entirely.
Gentle in a way that feels almost guarded, like softness is a language he only speaks at home.
I could get used to this life. I can picture it too easily, which is exactly why I can’t let my mind drift there.
The only part that truly breaks my heart is losing this connection with Brianna. She’s such a strong girl, and I’ve loved getting to know her—the way she thinks, how deeply she feels, how fiercely she loves the things that matter to her. It’s going to hurt when I have to cut ties.
But maybe I won’t have to.
I’m sure Worth wouldn’t mind if Bri and I stayed friends.
After the documentary ends, we head out to a small Greek restaurant Worth has been raving about.
The moment we step inside, the owners greet Worth like family, ushering us toward a private table near the back, close to the open kitchen where the cooks move with ease.
“Kalispera, Worth!” the cook calls out with a grin.
“Kalispera, fílos mou!”
I blink. “You speak Greek?”
Worth laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t get too excited. That’s about the extent of it. Greetings, thank you, and whatever helps me get fed faster.”
Brianna giggles, and I grin.
We order mezze to share—warm pita, tzatziki, dolmades, grilled halloumi—followed by souvlaki for Brianna and lamb for Worth. I let him order for me, something I don’t usually do, and I don’t miss the satisfaction in his expression when I ask him.
Midway through dinner, Brianna launches into an excited explanation about her school hosting an art show next month.
“I’m showing one of my wolf drawings,” she says proudly. “I really want you both to come.”
Worth looks at me. “Are you in Mya?”
“I’d love to come,” I say without hesitation.
Brianna beams, practically vibrating in her seat.
The rest of the evening blurs into easy conversation and laughter.
When we’re finishing up, one of the owners comes by.
“Dessert is on us.” He ignores Worth’s protests, as a waiter brings out loukoumades—golden and warm, drizzled with honey and dusted with cinnamon.
Later, Worth excuses himself to use the restroom, and the moment he’s gone, Brianna turns to me, her expression suddenly serious.
“I’ve never seen my dad this happy. I’m really glad that you’re in our life.”
Emotion swells in my chest, sharp and sweet all at once. I reach for her hand, squeezing gently. “I’m really glad too.”
And I am. Which makes it hurt all the more knowing it’s temporary.
Does it have to be? my mind wonders.
In the privacy of Worth’s home, we fit effortlessly.
Out there, though? Worth is the blue collar playboy.
And I’m just… Mya.
A nobody.
I shake off the intrusive thoughts just as Worth reappears, and somehow, he immediately senses the shift.
“Are you okay, Kitten?”
“EW!” Brianna exclaims. “Why would you call her that?”
I burst out laughing. Worth’s expression doesn’t falter, though I know he’s fighting a smile.
“Because she’s—”
Brianna holds up a hand. “Please spare me the explanation. I might gag.”
That finally does it—Worth chuckles. “I just love getting you riled up, Piglet.”
She groans dramatically, but she’s smiling.
After a good fifteen minutes of lingering goodbyes with the owner, we head back to Worth’s place.
When we pull into his driveway, I hug Brianna tightly, promising to see her tomorrow. She heads inside to get ready for bed, then I turn toward my car.
“Leaving already?” Worth calls after me.
“Yeah. It’s a work night. I shouldn’t be out late,” I joke.
He joins me beside my car, eyeing it critically. “We need to get you something new.”
“We absolutely do not,” I protest. “My car is fine.”
Worth circles the vehicle. “You sure about that?”
He nudges a loose piece of metal with his shoe. It clatters to the ground, rusted clean through.
I gape at it. “Well, if you didn’t go around kicking my precious vehicle, maybe!”
Unbothered, he reaches into his pocket and presses a button on one of his key fobs. The garage door rolls open, and my jaw practically hits the pavement.
Inside sits a fleet of cars. Four of them. Plus two motorcycles.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Take your pick. Although I’m guessing you don’t ride bikes, so maybe steer clear of those.”
I drift closer, still stunned. “Who needs this many cars, Worth?”
He shrugs. “I used to have more. Sold a few. Figured six sports cars was excessive.”
“I am not taking one of your cars.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s too much. And like I said: I’m not a charity case.”
He stops in front of me, expression serious now. “Mya. Just borrow one of the cars.”
“I don’t want to.”
“I can’t sleep comfortably at night knowing you’re driving that monstrosity. Please.”
I sigh. “Fine. Which one is the most normal?”
Worth lets out a low laugh. “Normal might be a stretch.”
He steps closer, coming up behind me, and his scent wraps around me. I inhale deeply.
“How about the least flashy one?”
His chest brushes my back, close enough that I can feel the steady rise and fall of his breath. His mouth hovers near the shell of my ear, grazing it, and my skin prickles in anticipation.
“That one,” he says, nodding toward the sleek black car. “Porsche 911. Fast. Loud. Fun. But it attracts attention. And you don’t strike me as someone who enjoys being watched.”
My pulse skips as his knuckles skim my hip, goosebumps erupting all over my body.
Worth chuckles, darkly. “Unless you do. And I’ve been missing out,” he whispers.
“The red one over there,” he continues, voice lower now, “is the Ferrari Portofino. Beautiful, but impractical. You’d freeze half the year, and I don’t like the idea of you being uncomfortable.”
I swallow.
“And that one?” he adds, nodding toward the polished Audi.
“Smooth. Controlled. Looks innocent enough until you push the gas.” His body shifts, pressing into mine.
“Just like a certain kitten I know,” he breathes into my ear, his hand settling at my waist as he leads me to the last vehicle.
Wetness pools at my center, and I muffle a moan, pushing my ass against his crotch.
Worth groans in response, turning me around and pressing me against the car, successfully trapping me in between him and the large SUV. Hiding us in plain sight.
His expert hands travel up my thighs. “Fuck. I love when you wear skirts and dresses around me, like a filthy little tease.” I gasp and my body tenses.
“This is the one,” he decides, eyes settling on the Range Rover behind me. “It’s spacious. Solid. You could fit your whole life in there if you needed to.” His lips close enough now that I feel the warmth of his words against my mouth, “and safe, because I need to know you’re protected.”
He leans closer, as if about to kiss me and my breath hitches. Just as soon, he pulls away. The loss is abrupt and unfair.
I huff in protest, heat still throbbing beneath my skin, my body desperate for what my brain knows I shouldn’t want.
Even though I know it’s better for us not to engage in anything sexual, deep down, I still wish Worth would use his expert hands to make me come.
We’ve been dancing around the tension like it might bite if we get too close.
It’s almost as if something opened between us, but also built a higher wall neither of us has dared to climb.
Maybe because we’re both afraid of what is waiting on the other side.
Of how far we’d fall if we let ourselves step over it.
At least, that’s why I haven’t.
But to say I don’t crave him would be a lie. Every brush of his hand, every look that lasts a moment too long, chips away at whatever’s left of my restraint.
I try to avert my gaze, shame and want wiring violently inside me. I know this is the right decision. I know stopping is smarter.
It doesn’t stop the ugly sting of disappointment.
Worth pinches my chin between two fingers, bringing my eyes back to his. “Hey. Don’t do that. Don’t shut down.”
“All of this is a bad idea, Worth,” I whisper. “We keep saying we’ll respect the lines and then we end up here again.”
His face falls. “I’m sorry. I got carried away.”
Worth takes a step back. He drags a hand through his hair, as if he’s just as frustrated and he hates that he can’t do a damn thing about it.
He walks toward the far end of the garage and retrieves a set of keys. Then presses them into my palm.
I’m still leaning against the Range Rover, trying to wrap my head around my conflicting feelings but coming up short.
Worth leans over and kisses my forehead.
“Get home safe, Mya.”
“Yeah,” I breathe, not trusting myself to look at him. “Okay.”
I climb into the SUV, fingers trembling on the steering wheel. Then, I drive away.