Page 40 of His Wolf Protector


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“I’m sure you’re pretty hungry by now. I hope you don’t mind that I arranged for dinner.”

“Not at all,” I told him before he signaled the steward.

I hadn’t been on many planes, so I didn’t have much experience with airplane food. But I had no idea that it could be so good. We had a salad named after an emperor, a steak named after a basketball player, and for dessert, ice cream named after a state. Was everything that was served on a plane named after something?

“I don’t know, you’re coming awfully close to violating the ‘fancy’ rule.”

“What, this? No, this was just what they had in back. Believe me, if they had hot dogs, we would have had that. If nothing else, I’m a man who always follows the rules,” he said, charmingly.

I laughed. “Yeah, right. Name a time in your life when you chose to follow the rules.”

Remy had to think about it, but he did have an answer. He came up with a few. And what followed was the longest conversation I had ever had with him. To look at him, I would never have guessed how deeply he thought.

“So, what was it like growing up like you did?” I asked.

“What aspect? Do you mean having access to an endless supply of cash because it was stashed in every container in our home? Do you mean, working for my father who was also New York’s most feared mafia boss? Or do you mean having to prove myself every day to wolves who could literally smell your fear?”

“Tell me about the girls,” I told him, knowing that in all of the years I knew him, he had never once mentioned one.

“Why would you want to talk about that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it turns me on,” I suggested flirtatiously.

“Why don’t you tell me about your girls?” he said, leaning forward interested.

“I had a great long-term relationship with my mother. And… There, I’m done.”

Remy laughed. “Not even one?”

“Ew, no.”

“Well, if you get the chance, I recommend pussies.”

“For what? Holding my ChapStick? Because that’s the only thing I would ever need one for.”

Remy laughed again. “So you’re not a ‘stick-it-in’ sort of guy?”

“Do I seem like a ‘stick-it-in’ sort of guy?”

“You don’t,” he admitted. “Is that why nothing ever happened between you and Hil? Because neither of you are tops? Or, has something happened?”

“Between Hil and me? No!” I said emphatically. “It would be like having sex with my brother.”

“Okay,” Remy said, looking relieved.

“But don’t dodge the question, Mr. Sneaky. I asked about your girls. I know there’s been a lot.”

Remy looked pained to talk about them.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Has there been anyone special?” I asked, hiding the terror I felt for his answer.

“No.”

“No one?”

“Not really.”

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