The Wolf in Sheep's Skin

Chapter 14

Gwen

I leaned against the counter, trying to catch my breath. My wrist tingled where he’d grabbed me, and my heart fluttered.

He didn’t really say that, did he? My head swirled as I collected my thoughts. How can he be so rude, so brazen, insensitive? I’d wanted to shout at him, to tell him how insolent he was being, but I’d been frozen, like I was trapped.

A growl escaped my throat. How could I just stand there? I didn’t even defend myself! All he did was bash me and my baking, making fun of my cookies!

The thought of cookies made my face burn, and something twisted in my core. I sucked in a breath between clenched teeth. My skin felt hot and itchy, like it needed to be touched.

Giggles came closer towards the kitchen, along with clacking heels.

D*mn it, Gwen! I growled at myself and stormed to the bathroom. My skin was lobster red. I rinsed my face with cool water, trying to calm my racing heart and erratic thoughts.

But his words kept replaying in my mind, and all I could see were his intense eyes peering into my soul. His words kept repeating in my head. He’d sounded so sure, so intent, like it was a promise and not a threat. Warm wetness spread between my legs, and I squeezed them together.

My heart raced faster, and my mouth went dry. I’m not some sniveling schoolgirl! I shouldn’t be affected like this; he’s brash and rude and says awful, vile things!

I’ve never had a man say things like that, so crass, so-

“Exciting? Invigorating?” Lilith offered.

Go away!

“Can’t you enjoy anything?” She asked, as if it was a genuine question. Thoughts popped into my head of him touching me, his hands trailing up my thighs, touching me there. My heart sped up, and I gripped the sink tight, like the earth was spinning too fast.

“Stop it! Get your thoughts out of my head!” I hissed at the bathroom floor; my fists clenched.

“But he’s so pretty.” Lilith laughed; a conniving sound filled with mischief.

But the thoughts went away, and my heart slowed down. Women spoke in the distance, not close enough for me to make out what they said. Perfect. Now I’m missing the committee.

I glanced at myself in the mirror again. My hair was messy, coming out of the half updo, with strands falling into my face. My skin was shiny from being sweaty and I had a smudge of black grease on my cheek.

I held up my hands. The wrist he’d grabbed had a smudge of grease on it, which I’d gotten on my face. After washing it off in the sink, I checked my dress.

A big, black blotch of car grease was rubbed into the soft purple fabric.

There’s no way I can get that out! They’re going to think I’m some slob, completely unhinged! My shoulders dropped, and I looked around. I could just stay in here?

But Alpha Ansel knew I was here, and I’d already signed the sign-in sheet for the meeting.

After attempting to fix my hair, and making sure my skin was free of car grease, I left the bathroom. Everyone had already filtered out of the dining area and had moved into a room nearby. I grabbed my bag and joined them.

Everyone went silent and stared at me as I went into the room. It was a typical business meeting room, with a long table, women sitting on both sides, with Olivia sitting at the far end. A big whiteboard was behind her, and a stack of papers was in front of her.

All the women were seated except her, and their eyes burned into my skin.

Bridget was sitting at the front by Olivia. She grinned at me and gave me a little wave. I kept my head low with my shoulders hunched, so there’d be no mistake I was submissive.

“The meeting stared at 4.” Olivia said in a harsh tone as she squinted at me.

“Sorry, I was in the restroom.” I glanced at the clock. 4:03. I’m barely late.

“Have a seat then.” She glared at me, and I looked away from her, hunching my shoulders. I sank into a chair next to me.

Olivia droned on about the upcoming party, telling everyone what the theme was. “French” was the newest theme, and she showed us printed pictures of her ideas for how things would be decorated.

The woman sitting next to me pulled knitting supplies out of her bag and expertly worked the yarn.

I opened my own bag and pulled out my spare embroidery supplies. I’d packed a half-finished shirt that I’d been adding on a little red fox too. Olivia kept speaking, and occasionally asking questions.

Someone would raise their hand and suggest something. Either she’d curl her nose and add her own idea, or she’d nod thoughtfully and praise whoever had given the idea. It didn’t take long for me to figure out this was more of a game of figuring out what Olivia thought was a good idea, instead of suggesting your own idea.

Bridget seemed good at Olivia’s game, and Olivia beamed at her. I waited for Olivia to reach out and pat Bridget on the head like a good dog, but to my disappointment, it never happened.

My thoughts kept wandering back to the kitchen, no matter how hard I tried to corral them. I kept picturing the way his brows knitted together when he was mad, or how his muscles tensed in his neck. Even in his grimy state, he’d looked good, like he couldn’t help it. His stained shirt and jeans were somehow just as fitting as the black button-down shirt and black slacks he’d worn the other night.

My skin continued to tingle where he’d touched me, and I kept checking for a bruise or some kind of mark. But there was nothing there. The only indication the whole thing wasn’t made up in my mind was the black blotch on my dress.

Disrespectful, useless man. Getting in the way, making me late. I stabbed at the fabric as I worked on it. Eating all those st*pid cookies. He could’ve been nicer about them; I bet they tasted fine. I scowled, thinking of all the other desserts that had been laid out. Couldn’t he have eaten someone else’s dessert? Now I don’t have anything for the group, and they’re going to think I’m rude.

I scoffed at the idea of them finding me rude, while Jay was out running around, saying vile things.

“Have a suggestion, Gwen?” Olivia’s question cut through my thoughts. I snapped my head up at her. Her arms were crossed, with a brow raised. Everyone’s eyes were on me.

Panic washed over me, making my hands go numb.

“What was the question?” I asked meekly, kicking myself internally.

“We need a display for the main table, a focal point.” Olivia sighed and tilted her head at me. She squinted at me, and I lowered my gaze to the table in front of her.

“Uhhh… what about… a macaroon tower? Macaroons are French, right?” I racked my brain, hoping what I’d said was at least accurate. I lowered my head to the point I was cowering. I pulled my hands close to me, not daring to look up at her. Please think I’m submissive. The shop needs to work. I need her to forgive me.

She pursed her lips, and her foot tapped while she thought. My stomach turned to knots, and I wished I could get up and run out of the room.

“If we add some flowers around it, that could work.” Her face neutralized, and she went onto other topics. I sighed in relief, and the woman next to me gave me a reassuring smile.

Olivia continued asking questions, and I frowned at my fox. It had turned wonky; like one of its hind legs had been run over. That man is no good! He keeps interrupting my perfectly good thoughts.

Olivia clapped, making me jump. “Now that we’ve finished all the topic points, who wants to sign up for managing different chores? There aren’t enough jobs for everyone, unfortunately.” She gave us a mock pout and waved the sign-up sheet in the air. Finally, it’s almost over.

I waited for women to volunteer, but Olivia pointed to a woman and set the paper down and began writing.

“Harriet, you can be in charge of the cooks.” Olivia pointed at a woman, who leaned in with big, hopeful eyes.

Wait, she picks who does what? Icy tendrils went down my spine, and I prayed to the heavens she didn’t pick me. What did we talk about?

“Bridget, you can handle setting up the displays.”

Bridget smiled and glanced at the women around her, puffing out her chest. Olivia continued, and finally, she stood up and put her hands on her hips.

“That’s it! So sorry to anyone who didn’t get put on the list, maybe next time.” Olivia turned away from us and neatly tucked away her papers into her bag. Everyone stood and chatted with the woman next to them.

I sighed in relief and packed my things away.

“Don’t worry, I’ve been here two months and haven’t been put on the list.” The lady next to me leaned in and whispered to me. I gave her a small smile, and she returned it.

Is that a good thing or a bad thing?