Marriage Claws Read online

  Oh yeah. A platonic friendship with the sexy Prince Charming of Wall Street after all of this should be easy-peasy.

  For the next several hours I played Angry Birds on my phone in the back of Jack’s limo. Then we stopped at his office for three hours, where I played Angry Birds in the office break room. At least I got to speak to people as they came in and out. But the second they realized who I was—the future Mrs. Jack Pensione—the conversation grew cold and formal.

  At around the four-and-a-half-hour mark, it was Jack who came striding into the break room. “I’m sorry.”

  I paused my game. I was on the verge of beating my high score. “Sorry?”

  “For showing you the longest, most boring day of your life,” Jack said, bracing his hands on the back of the chair across from me. “I can take you home if you want. Or drop you at the diner.”

  I straightened, snuffing any signs of disappointment as quickly as I could. “Oh. Uhm . . .”

  “Or . . ,” Jack said, before I could answer. “You could stick it out for just a few more minutes. I have to grab a few things from my office and then I was going to head over to the building on Fifth. Still interested in seeing it?”

  “Yes,” I said, convincing myself my spark of excitement was all about seeing the renovation project and not about being in Jack’s company again.

  “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.” He smiled, and my heart did a little double-tap. “C’mon.”

  Twenty minutes later Alan was opening the limo door. I slid out behind Jack, taking the hand he offered to steady myself on the sidewalk. He didn’t let mine go.

  The building was beautiful. Gleaming marble floors, gilded sconces, a shiny brass elevator, and forty-three floors of top-of-the-line condos. After a touring a few of the apartments, we rode the elevator back down to the lobby so Jack could meet with the head contractor.

  Just as we stepped out I noticed the glass door off to the left of the main doors. Jack was already offering his hand to the burly contractor, his construction hat an odd mix with his three-piece suit.

  I broke away unnoticed, slipping through the glass door into the pristine dining area of some yet-to-be-named coffee shop. My brain went to coffee shop because of the giant brass espresso machine behind the shiny green marble counter. It wasn’t a huge space, only eight tables out front along the floor to ceiling glass wall of windows. The windows were covered in paper, as was the glass door at the far end that would open to the sidewalk allowing outside traffic as well as residents.

  The shiny new counter with a large display case built in at the end, would be perfect for pastries, pies and cakes. The end of the counter had hidden hinges and I lifted the top to slip in behind the bar. I ran a hand along the back counter, over its two, deep basin, stainless steel sinks, under the built in soap dispenser and brushing my fingers over the never-been-used coffee grinder next to the espresso machine.

  Long shelves filled the back wall, and my mind filled them with flavor dispensers and a multitude of different coffee beans held in big glass containers ready for grinding. The top shelf I reserved for a branded merchandise display, like mugs and stuffed teddy bears, maybe a logo embroidered apron for sale. My gaze flicked to the giant chalkboard at the short end of the bar, where it stood out against the brick wall behind it—the perfect place for writing specials and shop announcements in bright colors for customers to see.

  The place was a blank slate, ready and waiting for the right touch to fill it with love. They’d already installed the high-tech computer ordering system, though in a place this small it was kind of overkill. I ran my fingers over the wide touch screen, half wishing it would flicker to life.

  “It’s kind of small compared to your place,” Jack said and I looked up to see him standing just inside the door—watching me.

  “It’s perfect,” I said softly, more to myself than Jack.

  “There’s a little kitchen in back. Did you see?” he asked and I perked at the question, pushing through the gray steel door to see the prep tables, the double oven, the freestanding coolers.

  “Too small for a diner,” Jack said following in behind me. I doubt they’ll even use this. I’m pretty sure the plan is to just bring in a coffee business. Either a franchise or a small startup business.”

  “What, no gym? Thought your father didn’t like diners in his buildings,” I said with no small amount of attitude.

  “Building’s already got a gym,” Jack said. “It’s on the top floor, with an indoor-outdoor swimming pool on the roof. My father doesn’t have anything against diners or coffee shops. But once he sets his mind to something he won’t change it no matter what. He considers indecision a sign of weakness. This space used to be the doorman’s residence, but we moved that and remodeled. You like it?”

  I swallowed hard, pushing back through the door to the front of the shop, emotion suddenly clogging my throat. “It’s beautiful. Really nice. Do you have anyone interested yet?”

  Jack shook his head. “Don’t think it’s even on the market yet. There’s no rush. The condos are all sold, so we’ve already tripled our investment. We can take our time here . . . find the right fit.”

  My heart leapt. I wasn’t even sure why. I had a diner, but this place, with its pastry kitchen in back, its smooth marble countertops and brass finishes, the big old-fashioned espresso machine and the gleaming pastry case out front . . . It was as though someone had spied on my childhood dreams and made them real. It was exactly the sort of pastry shop I’d wanted ever since I was a kid, since I’d started baking George sweets to make him feel better after mom died.

  Back then I’d wanted a place just like this. Not too big, not too small. A place where I could spend time honing my skills, learning new recipes, making a name for myself as a self-taught pastry chef. I was the perfect fit for the little shop.

  At least I would’ve been—if I wasn’t already responsible for the diner which gave my brother a place to use his education, Diego a place to earn money while he waited for his citizenship, Marbella a place to supplement her income that didn’t care how old she was, Madam Opal a place that let her dress how she liked, Brittney a place to help support her growing family and Cece a place to wait for her acting dreams to come true.

  Who was I kidding? My life came with too much baggage to fit into a quaint little space like this now. And since I dearly loved all the people in my life, dreaming of what could’ve been was pointless.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, cutting loose the old dream, and sighed. When I opened my eyes again, I managed a smile. “It’s lovely. I’m sure it will make someone’s dreams come true.”

  Just not mine.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “It’s not gonna be as bad as you think, sis,” Lenny said refilling my wine glass. “The Pensiones are super cool peeps.”

  He and George were throwing their first dinner party at my old apartment they now shared. Never mind that only Jack and I had been invited and the evening centered around preparing me to meet my future in-laws this weekend.

  “I know,” I said, sipping my wine. “Jack told me they took you in when your family—I mean, pack kicked you out of theirs.”

  “Kicked me out.” A bitter laugh bubbled out of Lenny, and George reached over and squeezed his hand. “Right. That was after they tried to kill me. Said they didn’t want me spreading my defect to future generations.”

  I glanced from Lenny to my brother and Jack then back again. “You mean homosexuality? But that’s . . . that’s crazy.”

  Lenny sighed settling lower in his chair. “That’s pack mentality. My dad told me, We’re meant to breed, boy. You can’t make babies with another guy so what good are ya? Whatever went pear-shaped in that head of yours needs to stop with you. Can’t risk weakening the pack. And then he pulled out his pistol and shot me.”

  “Ohmygod . . . Lenny, I’m so sorry,” I said, my mouth gaping like a fish. “I didn’t think bullets could kill werewolves.”

  “Silver
,” Lenny said.

  “That really works?”

  “If it’s shaped into a bullet and shot out of a gun?” he asked, then shook his head. “No.”

  The three of them chuckled at my confusion and I resisted the urge to flip my fellow dinner guests the bird. I’m all about etiquette.

  “Sorry, sis,” Lenny said. “Truth is we’re hard to kill, but we’re not immortal. Our kind has what you might call an allergy to silver. It slows us down, and hurts like hell if it gets inside us. But it won’t kill us on its own. A bullet, though? If it rips through vital organs and we don’t shift before we bleed out, yeah. It’ll do the deed.”

  “Then what’s the point of using silver bullets?”

  “Keeps the dude from shifting,” Lenny said. “Can’t shift, can’t heal. My dad used a silver bullet to keep me from shifting, then loaded me in car and dumped me in the woods to die. Bastard.”

  George squeezed his lover’s hand again and the two shared a comforting look.

  I blinked, trying to wrap my brain around the mental image. Lenny’s father really was a bastard. “How did you survive?”

  “Whaddaya think? Dug the fuckin’ thing outta me, shifted, and got my ass as far from those sick fucks as possible.” A cheery smile suddenly lit his face. “Hopped a bus cross the country and started fresh in New York City. Where I bang whoever I want.”

  Jack chuckled. “That’s one way to describe it.”

  I looked at Jack. “And your pack took him in? They don’t have a problem with homosexuality?”

  “Jack took me in,” Lenny hurried to clarify. “It was Jack who smelled me running the streets here. He found me and gave me a choice. Join his pack or get the hell out of the city. After I told him my sad tale, he made the same ultimatum. So I joined his pack.”

  Jack’s gaze shifted to me. “My family is very much tied to nature, accepting its example as law. Homosexuality occurs in all species and is therefore an undeniable part of the natural order. We cannot know the purpose for the occurrence and we are not so disrespectful as to withhold acceptance until Gaia, or God, or . . . whatever explains itself to us. For us, it is enough that nature allows it, and so we accept. What nature sees as unnatural it destroys without our aid or input.”

  “Lenny’s original pack doesn’t seem to share your live and let live mentality,” I said.

  Jack’s gaze shifted to his pack mate. “No. Unfortunately there are those of our kind who have been influenced by humans over the centuries. I don’t know that there’s anything to be done about it. But, as I said, nature is quite capable of correcting that which defies her law without the aid of mankind—or wolfkind.”

  “Right,” Lenny said, pushing his fork through what was left of the peas on his plate. “Though she takes her good ol’ time about it.”

  Jack exhaled, knowing Lenny’s desire for nature to avenge him all too well. He turned to me. “The point is that my family is open-minded and accepting. Just . . . be yourself and they’ll love you.”

  Lenny snorted. “They better or Jack’s screwed.”

  Worry stabbed through me. “They really have to give you the okay before you can marry?”

  “Yes and no.” Jack took a gulp of wine, showing his frustration. He swallowed. “If I want the alpha position I have to find a mate that the pack will follow. In that way, yes, I need their approval. But it’s not like I don’t have a choice.”

  “Would you ever make that choice?” I asked, swallowing around the sudden knot in my throat. “Marrying for love over position?”

  Jack’s eyes met mine. “I . . . don’t know. My plan has always been that I’d never have to find out.”

  “But plans rarely work out the way we think,” I said.

  “True.” His smile flickered at the corners of his mouth—the good smile, the one that said he was being honest with both himself and me. “Let’s just say that I still want to lead my pack and change the direction my father has taken some things. But . . .”

  “But?” I asked.

  He looked away for a second, staring at his half empty wine glass. “I’m a well-educated man. I’ve been preparing to become alpha my whole life. I’m attuned to my pack and I have a clear vision for its future. I’ve always known what I wanted and what I didn’t want. But . . .” He lifted his gaze to mine. “I’ve begun to wonder lately if what I once saw as a painful obstacle to be avoided might possibly be the one thing that makes life—and all its triumphs and disappointments—survivable.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Lenny said, turning his attention to George. “Havin’ someone in your corner, someone you can count on and trust, someone you love, makes everything better. Success, failure, whatever.”

  “Yes, but saddling yourself with the wrong person can mean a lifetime of misery,” Jack said, then finished his wine in one long gulp. “Just ask my parents.”

  “You’re not your old man, dude,” Lenny said. “He threw away a good thing because he was too full of himself to see it.”

  “My father is stuck in the past, yes. But he’s also smart, decisive, driven. He holds pack above all else. Trust me, I know. His love of pack blinds him to everything else, even the pain his actions bring to those he loves. There is nothing he wouldn’t do, or sacrifice, for the greater good of his people.” Jack’s eyes turned cold and he stared across the table at Lenny. “Tell me I didn’t just describe myself. I won’t make his mistakes. I won’t allow someone to be foolish enough to love me.”

  “You’re not stuck in the past,” George said. “You’re the one who’s going to lead your people into the future.”

  “That’s right,” Lenny said. “You’re nothin’ like your father. Not really.” The last sentence wasn’t said with the same confidence as the first and I felt the doubt chilling the air.

  Time for a topic change. “So, what are your plans for the pack? I mean, besides the whole marrying for life thing.”

  Jack’s green eyes shifted to me, and their iciness made my breath catch. He looked away, reaching for the wine bottle, refilling his glass. “It’s not that I’ll do away with mating for life, but if one discovers they’ve made a mistake they won’t be forced to stay in that relationship.”

  Jack took a sip, then set his glass on the table beside his empty plate. “Our people deal in absolutes far too often. Mated, not mated. Alpha, omega. Loyal, disloyal. We don’t accept middle ground on anything. That attitude works for wolves, but not for people. We evolved from humans, after all. Our intelligence enables us to question, to reason, to think independently of the whole. We hesitate, we make mistakes. We should not be judged based on those all-too-human qualities. If we make a mistake, it’s ours alone rather than the fault and responsibility of everyone in our line.”

  “You’re thinking of little Mike,” Lenny said. “You’re right. Totally.”

  “Little Mike?” I asked checking my brother’s reaction. George shrugged telling me he was as much in the dark as I was.

  “Marcus’ younger brother,” Lenny said.

  “There are rumors that Marcus plans to challenge my father for alpha,” Jack said. “If he succeeds he’ll take over the pack and everyone in his line after him will stand as heirs to his position. If he fails . . .”

  “Frank Pensione will have him, and his line, banished from the pack as a threat,” Lenny said. “Right now that’s just Marcus and his younger brother. But once they marry, even their kids and their kid’s kids will be enemies to the pack.”

  “That’s awful,” I said. “Why would he even risk it?”

  Jack shrugged. “For power. It doesn’t happen often. In fact, I don’t remember the last time someone challenged the line of succession. But Marcus is the son of my father’s beta. So beta is the highest he can rise in the pack. Unless he makes a challenge for a higher rank.”

  “Beta,” I said. “That’s like second in command, right? Second letter in the Greek alphabet.”

  “Yes and no,” Jack said. “Our pa
ck has a council of elders who help the alpha make decisions. The pack beta, while high ranking, is more of a, um, peacemaker. He settles disputes and helps enforce the alpha’s commands. It’s a respectable position, but apparently not enough for Marcus.”

  “That asshat’s always had designs on your life,” Lenny said. “Been causin’ you grief as long as I’ve known you.”

  Jack smiled, but I didn’t really think he found any of this funny. “We were rivals from the moment we met. If I did well, Marcus complained that I’d gotten special treatment. If I failed . . .” He shook his head with another snort of laughter. “Jesus, he’d never let me live it down. I couldn’t win. The guy made my childhood a living hell.”

  “And all the while, you had to know that one day you’d have to count on his conceited butt to have your back—to be your beta,” Lenny said. “Bet you never imagined you’d have to fight him for your birthright.”

  “Actually, I did,” Jack said, brows going up as he looked across the table at his pack mate. “He used to whisper it to me all the time. I’m gonna be alpha one day, he’d say. And I’m going to kill you to get it.”

  “Nice,” I said, sarcasm on full.

  Jack raised his glass, chuckling. “Yeah. He’s a peach alright.”

  “Wait. Does he fight you or your father?” I asked.

  Jack swallowed and lowered his glass. “The challenge is made to the current alpha. Right now, that’s my father.”

  “Marcus is a big guy,” Lenny said. “Most betas are. But Frank Pensione’s no shrinking violet. He’s older, though, and the pack’s ready for a change. It’s not all about brute force. An alpha has to have the pack behind them. Their loyalty gives the alpha a kind of power that . . . well, I’m not sure how it works, but you can’t win a battle for alpha without it. Marcus stands a better chance of beating Frank than Jack, but the odds are still against him.”

  “So he’s a coward and a traitor?” I asked

  Lenny barked out a laugh. “You said it, sis.”