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She takes a deep, shaky breath as she meets his gaze.
There’s something so familiar about her. I can’t quite place it, though. Have I met her before?
“You told people you’re my niece. I only have one brother that I’m aware of. Are you saying Scott Wolf was your father?”
She clears her throat but doesn’t speak.
Henry crosses his arms, waiting for an answer. As if she weren’t already nervous enough, he will make it tenfold worse.
There’s a scuffle at the entrance. A photographer has managed to slide past the doorman and is in the lobby, snapping pictures of us as security guards close in. The distraction gives the girl time to bolt. In seconds, she’s running, ducking around bodies and out the door as we’re ushered to the elevator.
* * *
“She had to be,what, sixteen? Seventeen at most?”
“Or younger. It’s hard to tell sometimes.”
Henry stares up at the ceiling, the silky bedsheet pooled around his waist. “Scott would’ve had to be in his first or second year of college when she was born. He never mentioned anything to me about a daughter.”
“Would he, though? You guys weren’t close.”
“He didn’t hate me quite so much back then.” His lips twist. “Unless he didn’t know about her. That would explain why there’s no mention of her in his will. He was a fucking degenerate, but even he would leave something behind for his daughter. Ihaveto believe that much about him.”
Henry’s mind has been spinning over the mystery girl since we got back to the safety of our home. We have no information to go on other than the name she gave to security when they asked her why she was loitering. Violet, she said it was, but who knows if that’s true. Henry demanded the security footage. We watched as the girl sat in the lobby for four hours, her foot tapping the marble floor, her fingernails probably bitten down to the quick for how often they ended up between her teeth. She got up and headed for the door at least a dozen times before returning to her seat, as if struggling with her decision to come here in the first place.
“The way she was dressed … You don’t think she was homeless, do you?”
I chuckle. “No, she’s just a teenager.”
“She looked scared.”
“A lot was going on. Security guards, reporters. And it’syoushe was coming to see.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You knowexactlywhat it means.” The indomitable Henry Wolf, who fills a room just by stepping into it.
He smirks because he does know.
“Maybe she’ll come back.” I press my lips against Henry’s shoulder.
“I could send her picture to Dyson to see what he can dig up.” He makes a sound, as if disagreeing with his idea. “Likely nothing, unless she’s a criminal.”
“If she’s Scott’s daughter, then it’s in her blood,” I mutter, but then mentally chastise myself. It’s not her fault she got the short end as far as fathers go.
He snorts, but the frown marring his handsome face won’t relent. “Why would she come here?”
CHAPTER3
Iwake to my phone vibrating on the nightstand. I paw for it—torn between answering the call and shutting it off.
“My dear Abigail! Congratulations!” Margo’s seductive Parisian accent curls around my eardrum.
“Hmm? For what?” I blink at the alarm clock. Nine a.m., which means it’s midafternoon in Paris.
“Your engagement to Henry has made Page Six!”
The way she says Henry’s name—theHsilent—always makes me smile. “Already?”
