Page 12 of The Wrong Bond (Wolf Billionaire #4)

CHAPTER 12

SHAWN

“ Y ou haven’t been answering my calls,” I said to Arlene as she avoided my eyes and cleared the used beer mugs from the bar counter.

I’d been seated at my usual spot at the counter for the past thirty minutes, and Arlene had barely glanced in my direction. After the incident at the art gallery, I’d tried to reach her, but to no avail.

My parents hadn’t said anything inherently mean or demeaning, but anyone who had a brain could easily read between the lines and see what they meant.

My entire body had wanted to go after Arlene and apologize for what had happened, but I’d also felt like letting her go was the right decision.

There was a very slim chance that she felt the same way for me as I did for her, which only complicated things further. And I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Now, I was back here at this bar, trying to get her to talk to me. I would never have done this with any of my other mistresses, but grouping her with them felt like doing her a disservice.

“I’ve been busy,” she responded coldly.

“Ouch.”

I ran my hand through my hair, frustrated as I watched her back stiffen, her movements practiced. We both shouldn’t be doing this, whatever it was we were doing. It was blurring the line between arrangement and relationship a little too much.

Having sex with her had completely messed with my subconscious, and I had no idea how she felt. I knew getting intimate with Arlene would take things to the next level, but I didn’t know I would get this sucked in.

I’d assured Ethan that I would be able to cut this off whenever I wanted to, but it was proving more difficult than I’d imagined. Not speaking to Arlene for just a day had done irreparable damage to my heart, and now here I was, trying to figure this out.

I tried to think about the last time I’d done this—tried to mend a broken relationship—but I couldn’t. This was the first time, and it wasn’t even a romantic relationship, it was a mutually beneficial business arrangement, which made it even worse.

“You’re not going to speak to me?” I asked again, and this time, I was met with silence.

The only sound I heard was the busy noise coming from the bar. My ears picked up every decibel of sound: the low, mumbling hum of people having conversations; the occasional bursts of laughter and arguments, the country music playing from the dusty jukebox in the corner, and the clinking of beer mugs. Sounds were coming from everywhere but Arlene herself.

“What do you want to drink?” she finally asked, her eyes landing on me.

“Look,” I sighed, pushing myself off the stool as I studied her closely. “Can we talk?” I looked around at the crowded bar. “In private?” I added.

“I’m working a shift,” she replied, as if that obviously meant “no.”

“Okay, can we talk here?”

“About what, Shawn?” Arlene snapped.

I felt oddly guilty, but I couldn’t fathom why. My parents, as annoying and snobbish as they could be, hadn’t been truly awful at the gallery.

“About Friday night. My parents…” I trailed off.

“They were…charming,” she said, the word dripping with sarcasm.

I winced. “They can be a lot sometimes,” I admitted, the understatement burning my throat.

“Yeah,” Arlene responded simply.

I knew how overbearing my parents were, and how much they behaved like not being born and bred uptown was the worst thing that could happen to a wolf.

My parents, with their designer clothes and fake smiles, treated wolves like Arlene like they were from another planet. Like waitresses who worked at small bars were aliens, only worthy of a backhanded comment and a disdainful sniff.

“I know they were overbearing.”

“Overbearing is putting it mildly, Shawn. They looked at me like I was an insect they were about to swat.”

I sighed. “I don’t think it was like that.”

She scoffed. “Oh, so you want to tell me how I felt?”

Instead of making it better, I was digging a bigger hole for myself.

“No, but I’m just saying that they can be more cruel than that.”

She rolled her eyes. “So I should be thankful that she didn’t throw a drink in my face or call security to drag me out?”

Okay, completely wrong choice of words on my part.

I ran a hand through my hair again, the carefully styled strands falling limply around my face. “They shouldn’t have behaved that way. I’m sorry I put you in that situation.”

Saying all this was difficult because I’d never been in this situation before. No one could understand the way Arlene made my pretentious world feel shallow and bitter. I could barely understand why I was drawn to the way her eyes shined brightly, and her laughter and quick-witted remarks.

No one would understand why, despite the arrangement, despite the money, I craved more than just her body. I wanted more than she would ever give me, and everyone else could call it selfish, but I didn’t care.

“You had no control over what was going to happen.”

I sighed for the millionth time that evening. “Maybe I did.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said, finally looking me square in the eyes and offering me a small smile.

I looked away, afraid I’d get sucked in. “They don’t understand.”

“They don’t understand what, Shawn?” Her voice, laced with questions, yanked me back to the grimy reality of the bar.

“That you’re…” The words wouldn’t come, the truth too fragile, too easily shattered. You’re more than what they see. You’re more than what this arrangement implies.

I cared for her deeply, and everyone who was actually close to me could see it. Even I was scared of the emotions that raced through me every time I was with her. I wanted more for us, but the line was drawn already and the hatred between the uptown and downtown wolves grew stronger by the minute.

It was as if the entire world was working against what this could be, and maybe that was a sign.

“What were you going to say?”

“I care about you, Arlene, and I don’t want someone to speak to one of my mistresses that way.”

I had messed up, and I could tell. There was no point in reiterating the place she held in my life.

“Oh.” She nodded slowly. “Noted.”

There was truth to it, of course. I wouldn’t tolerate anyone treating any woman I was involved with, any woman who spent time with me, with such disdain. But “mistress” was a terrible word to use in this situation.

I glanced at the clock. It was almost the end of her shift.

“I’ll drop you off at home,” I offered.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

I wouldn’t let her take a cab home this late, not on my watch. I’d seen the way some of the construction workers had leered at her earlier, which had sent a primal anger curling through my gut.

“Can you just let me do this one thing?” I pleaded.

“Okay.” I watched her shrug off her apron and say something to the big guy behind the counter too. Then we both squeezed past the crowded area and headed toward the door.

Just before we got to the door, from the corner of my eyes, I saw a wolf snake his hand behind Arlene and grab her backside. A scream tore from Arlene, which quickly turned into a guttural snarl as her wolf surged to the surface.

The wolf who had grabbed her was a tall, hulking figure with broad shoulders and breath that reeked of the bar’s terrible beer. He wasn’t just some drunken customer; I could tell from his appearance that he was a rogue. .

I let go of Arlene’s hand and stepped closer to the rogue wolf.

“I’ll let that pass as a drunken mistake, but you have to apologize to the lady,” I snarled.

The entire bar had grown eerily quiet and everyone was now watching us closely. The loud conversations had stopped mid-sentence, replaced by the frantic hammering of heartbeats and the strained gasps of those who dared to breathe.

“Let’s just leave. It’s not worth it,” Arlene said, pulling my arm, her voice filled with fear.

I shrugged her off gently, my eyes never leaving the rogue.

“Apologize to her,” I snarled again. It wasn’t a request; it was a very obvious order.

“Why would I?” he said.

“Because you just grabbed her without her consent,” I growled.

“Consent? She’s a waitress here. We pay for the service,” he snarled, stepping closer to me.

“She’s not providing any service for you.”

The rogue lunged for me, which was a very predictable and stupid move. I’d seen it coming, so I knew what to do next. I dodged his attack and ducked, the air whooshing past my ear as I punched him in the stomach.

It was a loud punch, and he doubled over in pain for a couple of seconds before getting up. Arlene and the rest of the crowd gasped.

The rogue was no match for me, it was pretty evident, but I was trying to give him a fair shot to prove himself at least.

He rushed toward me again, not thinking whatsoever, and I slammed my fist into his shoulder. His face contorted in pain. Before he could recover, I was on him.

The fight was a quick blur of snarls, blows, punches, and scratches. I fought with anger and calculated blows, making sure I showed my dominance and that Arlene and I were not to be toyed with.

Finally, I pinned the rogue to the floor with my knees on his chest. He writhed and struggled underneath me, but his strength was no match for my own.

“Now,” I growled, my voice a low rumble that vibrated through the floorboards, “you will apologize to the lady.”

He panted, stubbornness in his eyes, but I pressed my knee deeper, cutting off his blood flow and making him wince in pain.

“I won’t repeat myself again.”

“I…I apologize,” he stammered, his words barely audible.

“Good,” I said, and released him. The rogue scrambled to his feet, clutching his bruised ribs, and stumbled out of the bar like a whipped dog.

I took a long look at everyone else in the bar, who were watching in silence, to inform them all that Arlene was not to be messed with. They were paying for drinks, not to grope her.

She was mine !

I grabbed Arlene’s hand and led her out of the bar and into the waiting car. I instructed my chauffeur to drive her back to her place and we sat in silence as the car started down the road.

There was nothing I could say to describe how sorry I was about how my parents had acted and what I’d said at the bar.

I’d just solidified her position in our relationship, and I didn’t know how to feel about that. She was more than just a mistress to me, but I every time I almost told her that, I chickened out.

We got to the front of her apartment building, and Arlene stepped out of the car.

“Thank you for tonight,” she said. “No one has ever stood up for me like that.”

“I’ll always stand up for you,” I assured her. “I’ll call you.”

Arlene gave me a tight smile and shut the car door. “Goodnight, Shawn.”

And with that, she walked away. The only thing I could think about was how I was going to make these last couple of days up to her.