Wolfe's Lair Read online

  Chapter Nineteen

  Robyn

  Monday morning seemed to come around in a blur. I’d spent the best part of Saturday working my way through my wardrobe, trying to decide what to take with me to Barcelona, and most of Sunday being engulfed by Sasha as she tried to impart a lifetime of sexual experience onto me in a matter of hours. Not that I’d asked for her advice, but she had decided I needed to be “prepared” anyway. Thank God for the bottle of wine I had discovered in the cupboard. It was the only thing that had stopped me from throttling her.

  Instead of making him come all the way up to our apartment to collect me, I had chosen to wait just inside the main entrance to our apartment block. Sasha, and her barely controlled eagerness, was also with me. Spot on ten a.m., there was a knock on the door which made my stomach flip with excitement.

  Sasha squealed, hugged me tight, then gripped my shoulders and held me at arm’s length. ‘Have an amazing time, Rob. I want you to relax and enjoy yourself. No pressure. What will be, will be! And hopefully that involves you, The Big Bad Wolfe, and lots of hot, hot sex!’ And having imparted that pearl of wisdom she landed a sloppy kiss on my cheek and dashed back towards the stairs.

  Rolling my eyes at her retreating back, I took a calming breath, smoothed down my clothes, and pulled open the front door, only to freeze with my mouth hanging open.

  I had never, ever, seen Oliver Wolfe dressed in anything other than a three-piece suit, but today he was gracing my eyes with a complete change; his feet were clad in black biker boots, worn grey jeans hung from his trim hips, and a white polo shirt clung to every muscle in his chest like it had been made to measure. Holy smokes. He was holding an umbrella up for me, too, and grinning with apparent delight, looking the most relaxed I’d ever seen him. He was so hot I couldn’t get my brain to reengage so I could say hello.

  ‘Good morning, Robyn.’ Leaning in, he performed his usual kiss to my cheek, but this time it felt different; his lips paused on my skin as they often did, but then they drifted lower, almost but not quite skirting the edge of my mouth. I could have sworn I heard him take a breath, too, as if breathing me in.

  Well, this was certainly a nice welcome.

  Stepping back, I ran my gaze over him and then kick-started my tongue into use. ‘Good morning. Wow.’ Damn, I hadn’t meant to say the “wow” out loud, but Oliver’s smile only seemed to increase, so I shrugged it off and continued. ‘You look …’ Hot. Relaxed. Sexy as hell. Completely and utterly fuckable … ‘So different.’

  ‘And you look very beautiful. As always.’

  OK. This was all starting off in a vastly different way to how I had been expecting. Not that I was complaining, I’d take compliments from Oliver all day long, but seeing as he’d said it was a business trip I’d sort of expected him to be suited and serious. I’d been wrong, and I’d never been happier with that fact.

  ‘Let John take your bag,’ Oliver murmured, just as a bald man in a suit appeared beside him. After giving me a brief smile and nod, John took my case and disappeared off down the steps, leaving Oliver and me to follow.

  It was tipping it down with rain, but with Oliver sheltering me under the umbrella and the car just by the curb, I barely even got wet, and within seconds we were sliding into the back seats.

  ‘I must apologise. I should have given you a little more idea of the direction we would take on this trip.’ Clipping his seat belt in place, he turned more fully to face me, and I used the moment to absorb his transformation into the casual man now sitting beside me. ‘I have a little business in the city, but apart from that I was hoping we could just use the trip to get to know each other more. Keep things relaxed? Just enjoy yourself. If you wish to go to Fantasia one night, we can, but if not, that’s fine too. Sound OK?’

  ‘Sounds perfect.’ I was so excited I practically gushed my reply. Relaxed sounded great to me, especially if it meant Oliver being as lovely as he currently was. ‘What’s Fantasia?’

  He smiled, nodding his head. ‘Sorry, yes, it’s the club in Barcelona I mentioned, run by my childhood friend Matías. Its full name is Fantasias Traviesas, but everyone shortens it.’ The way the Spanish rolled from his tongue almost made me quiver with delight.

  ‘What does it mean?’

  Oliver smirked, his smile darkening into something far more wicked, and then leaned in close to my ear. ‘Naughty Fantasies.’ His breath fluttered across my skin, causing a skittering of goose pimples to pop up along my neck. I flared my nostrils as I drew in a deep breath. Naughty Fantasies. How very appropriate. Since I’d met him, I’d had so many naughty fantasies about Oliver I could hardly keep track any more, and judging from the gleam in his eye, Oliver had guessed as much.

  ‘We may need to act a little differently in the club, if we attend,’ added Oliver, his tone dipping slightly.

  ‘I’d quite like to see it,’ I admitted, ‘but what do you mean about acting differently?’

  ‘It’s not quite as restrained as Club Twist. Sometimes the Spaniards – well, they can be quite passionate, quite ardent in their advances … I should know, I’m one of them.’ He chuckled. ‘If they see a pretty new girl in the club, you will be surrounded in seconds. I know we’re just friends at present, but it will be better for you if you say you are with me. No one will bother you then.’

  ‘Oh … OK.’ Two things rang in my mind as we were driven to the airport – the fact that I would be his for the week, in the eyes of the other club goers at least, and the way he’d said we were just friends, but then added the “at present” bit, which had sounded decidedly like he considered it a temporary title.

  Would we be more than friends by this time next week?

  The drive to the airport was swift, as was check-in, and after a mere two-hour flight we were pushing our way through a crowded arrivals lounge at Barcelona’s El Prat airport.

  Crowds of men in maroon and blue Barcelona football shirts were singing and messing around as they collected their bags, and they were being so boisterous that at one point I got shoved sideways by them. In a flash, Oliver was facing off against one of them, his shoulders bristling with tension as he snapped something in Spanish. Then he took my hand to pull me away from them. My eyes widened at his display, but I couldn’t deny that his protective behaviour was actually quite thrilling.

  Over the following five minutes I became more and more alert with each passing second. Oliver seemed completely unaware, but since the run-in with the football fans at baggage claim, he still hadn’t let go of my hand. I was trying to copy his cool, calm demeanour and appear nonchalant about this new progression to walking hand-in-hand status, but all I could focus on was the heat coursing around my system from his touch. My body was buzzing blissfully, and the feeling was starting to make me a bit unsteady on my feet.

  As we paused to flag down a taxi, I stared down at our joined hands, then lifted my gaze to find Oliver watching me carefully. His eyes also flicked to our entwined fingers, then back at me. He gave a small squeeze of his hand, but did not let go. ‘My apologies. I enjoy having contact with you, and I forgot myself. Is this OK?’

  Was it? What did it mean when a guy who wanted me to submit to him suddenly started holding my hand? Talk about confusing messages. I couldn’t deny that I liked the way it felt and was enjoying his touch, though, so I shrugged and gave a small smile. ‘Um, yeah. Sure.’

  Oliver grinned at my agreement, and gave my hand another squeeze before opening the door to a cab and helping me inside. As soon as we were belted up and on our way, he took hold of my hand again, leaving me sitting in stunned silence to marvel at the compete change in him since we’d begun this trip.

  As Oliver had promised, we had separate rooms in the hotel – the very plush hotel, the cost of which he point blank refused to let me contribute to – although I did note that there was an adjoining door between our suites. Upon checking, this was unlocked. After discovering this, I spent a moment with my hand on the doorknob, wondering what that m
eant. Was it just a slip by the hotel? Or had Oliver had requested it be left open? And if he had, what did that mean?

  After spending a minute getting myself worked up, I forced myself to dismiss it, and decided to try to do as Sasha had instructed and see how the week played out.

  On the drive to the hotel we had agreed that we would take a trip to Fantasia tonight, which, I had to admit, was already getting me quite excited, but before that we were sightseeing, an equally tantalizing prospect.

  After quickly freshening up, we set off, and it was immediately obvious just how at home Oliver was in the city. It was like getting a glimpse at some alter ego that he had kept hidden up until now; he was completely relaxed and smiling almost non-stop. His posture was perfect, as always, but it was more fluid, somehow, and he had a visible spring in his step. He was also still in his dressed-down state of jeans and a T-shirt, this time paired with a blazer, which was a sight I could certainly become rather fond of, if given the opportunity. On top of all of this, he held my hand at every available opportunity.

  As we paused at an outdoor café opposite the cathedral Sagrada Família for our second coffee of the day, I discreetly watched Oliver as he chatted in Spanish with the café owner about something, and realised that I’d had a strange tightness in my chest for the best part of the morning. I’d been attracted to him from day one, but now, spending time with him like this, seeing this more relaxed side to him, and being the almost complete focus of his attention, I had a distinct feeling that I’d been right in my suspicions the other day – I was well on the way to falling for him.

  As I took a sip of my coffee, I chewed nervously on my lip and tried to quell my panic. The big question was, if I did indeed fall for him, would Oliver catch me, or walk away?

  Chapter Twenty

  Robyn

  Later that evening, after a delicious tapas dinner and a change of clothes – I was in a low-cut black dress and heels, and Oliver was now back to his standard killer three-piece suit – he guided me through the warm evening past various restaurants and bars until we came to a cobbled square. We were surrounded by stunning architecture on all sides, but on the opposite side to us was the most dramatic of all – a huge Gothic stone building, complete with turrets, and decorated with flags and bright banners proclaiming the name Fantasias Traviesas. Barcelona’s very own version of Club Twist, and our destination for the night. If it was half as impressive inside as it was out here, then this was set to be a pretty phenomenal evening.

  ‘People travel from all over for this place. Let’s see what you think of it compared to Club Twist,’ Oliver said with a grin as he approached the frontage, which was painted in bright scarlet paint.

  Visually, it was bolder than Club Twist. The London club was discreetly hidden behind its façade of a disused theatre, but this place was screaming its identity loud and proud for all to see.

  The main doors were open, and people were milling about at the entrance, all dressed to impress and clearly already enjoying their evenings. Before we reached the crowd, Oliver paused and looked down at me intently. ‘Remember what I said about the clientele here, yes?’

  How could I forget? Passionate, and likely to make a move on me if I didn’t make it obvious that I was with him. Nodding, I swallowed down a ball of nerves and made the first move this time, by taking hold of his hand in mine.

  Oliver’s gaze dipped to where my fingers were now intertwined with his. He shared a heated glance with me and nodded his approval before leading me to the entrance. He had a brief conversation in Spanish with the suited man on the door, and after an obviously warm welcome and hefty handshake, the internal doors were opened for us as we were granted access.

  Immediately I was swamped by similar sensations to the ones I had when entering Club Twist; dimness enfolded us into the comfortable sense of anonymity, and the heavy beat of the music flooded my veins like an infectious substance, making me feel I could throw my body around the dance floor, safe in the knowledge that no one knew me, or cared who I was.

  I didn’t, though. I gripped Oliver’s hand, and allowed him to lead the way to the bar, which was illuminated by red neon bulbs, and clung to the entirety of the right-hand wall. There must have been at least six bartenders on duty, but they were all busy, so it obviously wasn’t overkill.

  Glancing around, I realised for the first time that this place was substantially larger than Club Twist. There was a dance floor dominating the ground floor that would rival a basketball court in its size, but as well as that, there were balconies running around the edge of the room on at least two further levels above us, all packed with dancers, indicating that this place occupied at least three floors.

  As Oliver was finishing with our drinks order, he handed me my wine and grinned at a man approaching us. Turning, I watched as he embraced the tall, dark-headed stranger, giving the local greeting of a kiss to each cheek, before also exchanging a handshake and speaking some rapid-fire Spanish which I couldn’t keep up with. I may not have understood the words, but the easy familiarity these two shared made it obvious they were good friends.

  As soon as Oliver was back at my side he retook hold of my hand, a move which wasn’t missed by his acquaintance, who gave our entwined hands a long look then raised an eyebrow in an amused glance towards Oliver.

  ‘Well, well, I don’t believe this has ever occurred before, my friend. I think introductions are in order, no?’ His English was good, but spoken with a thick undertone of Spanish to it, and with his accompanying tan I could only assume he was a local. He was handsome, too, with dark green eyes, a square jaw, and long hair that curled at the nape of his neck.

  ‘Matías, this is Robyn, my guest,’ Oliver said, giving a wave of his free hand between us. ‘Robyn, this is Matías. He’s the owner of this place, one of my best friends, and a complete rogue. Watch yourself around him.’ The warning was spoken in jest, but as I looked again at Matías and took in just how confident he seemed in his own skin, I decided that “rogue” wasn’t far wrong. He was no doubt well aware of his good looks, and probably made full use of the fact that he owned a sex club by seducing countless women who walked through his doors.

  The fact that the exact same comparison could be made with Oliver suddenly occurred to me, and I felt vaguely sick. He’d said he didn’t play with the customers at Club Twist, but was that true? And if it was, then was he getting some action elsewhere, because I got the sense that he was an incredibly sexual man, and he certainly wasn’t getting anything from me.

  A sour tang of jealousy slicked across my tongue but, luckily, I was distracted from dwelling on the unpleasant thoughts by the feel of warm fingers taking hold of my free hand and lifting it. Barely a second later, Matías had my knuckles pressed to his lips as he gave my hand a very thorough kiss, his lips lingering for far longer than was necessary as they trailed along every bump and ridge of my knuckles. ‘Beautiful Robyn, it is a pleasure to meet you.’

  Blimey. Talk about over the top.

  Oliver stepped forwards, and pushed his friend away from me with a low grumble. ‘Matías, enough,’ he growled, his warning clear in the lowering of his tone, and backed up by the squaring of his shoulders.

  Matías seemed completely unfazed by Oliver’s bristling tension, remaining relaxed and tucking his hands into his trouser pockets as he ran his gaze down my body and back up again. It was as if I was being inspected for sale, and I didn’t like it one bit. If this was what Oliver had meant about the locals being forward, then I would definitely be gluing myself to his side for the remainder of the night.

  ‘Relax, my friend.’ Matías chuckled, giving Oliver a sturdy pat on the shoulder. ‘I was just checking if sharing might be an option. But I see from your face that perhaps it is not.’

  ‘No, it definitely is not,’ Oliver confirmed shortly, dropping my hand and sliding his arm around waist and pulling me firmly into the loop of his arm.

  Sharing? My eyes widened at the implications of his wor
ds, and I briefly wondered if he and Oliver had “shared” women in the past. It wasn’t an image I wanted to dwell on for too long.

  Laughing, Matías crossed his arms. He looked well and truly amused by something as his gaze moved from Oliver to mine. ‘I am laughing, because my dear friend Oliver is never like this.’ He pronounced his name as “Olive-ee-air”, his tongue rolling around the name and making it sound so much more exotic. He leaned in conspiratorially. ‘The word I need, it is …’ He paused for a second, a frown briefly crossing his brows as he thought, then he grinned. ‘Possessive. It is both surprising, and quite refreshing to see him acting in this manner.’

  Possessive. Over me. And I was supposedly just his “friend”.

  ‘Although with a young beauty like you by his side, I can understand why. If you were on my arm, I would no doubt feel the same.’ Matías crooked his arm and offered it to me with a grin, and even though I could tell he was joking, I felt Oliver’s arm around my waist tighten considerably.

  ‘Don’t push your luck, Matías.’ Oliver warned again, his tone light, but holding an undercurrent of steel.

  Well, this was very interesting. It also made what I was thinking of suggesting during this trip a little less embarrassing to contemplate, because if Oliver was acting this possessively over me, then surely he saw me as more than just a friend? Or was he simply doing as he promised, and protecting me from the advances of others?

  Glancing up at Oliver, I saw him giving his friend an amused glance, then a slight shake of his head. ‘Good to see you, too, Matías, even if you are as irritating as ever.’

  Matías grinned, told the bar staff to make sure our drinks were on the house all evening, then left us to it, promising to see us again later in the evening.

  Oliver gave me a quick tour of the club, seeming to have access behind the scenes, too, then got us some seats in the VIP area overlooking the dance floor.