My driver, who is also serving as my pilot and bodyguard for the day, is somewhere close by, but remains unseen by even myself. There's a reason that Jackson and I call himWraith. He's like a fucking ghost, managing to blend in with his surroundings so well that it's easy to forget he's even there.
I stare at the linen napkin-wrapped silverware and two glasses of water that the waiter just filled and cringe. Even though I always meet Mr. Wepner at a restaurant, he's the only one out of the two of us who ever eats or drinks.
Sighing, I check my watch. I'm early, of course, but I can't wait for this meeting to be over. I haven't left the island since Adeline arrived, and I feel anxious about the whole damn thing.
I had to force myself to leave my sleeping beauty. She looked so damn peaceful and angelic this morning that I almost cancelled my meeting.
That girl does something to me that I can't explain. It's like I can't get enough of her. Even when she's right beside me, I miss her.
And now that we're separated by land and sea at the moment, I crave her with an intensity I never felt before in my entire life.
Some people would call it love. Some would call it obsession.
I have no label to put on what I feel for her, because no words would ever be able to describe how deep my feelings go or how she makes me feel.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I'm quick to retrieve it. I left specific instructions to Jax to inform me of anything that happens and to keep me updated on Adeline.
Even though I wanted more of a minute-by-minute breakdown of her day today and her whereabouts, Jax clearly thought I would be okay with only updating me now.
I enter the lock code on my phone and frown. My eyes scan over the text from Jax, and I hold back a growl.
Adeline isn't coping well with your absence, but don't worry. I'm taking good care of her. ;)
Leave it to Jax to instantly piss me off with just a couple of sentences and a fucking winking emoji.
"Jax and his damn emojis," I grumble under my breath. I swear he overuses them more than a teenage girl.
Moving my fingers across the keyboard, I type out a quick and angry response that I'll be home as soon as I can and to keep her safe…while keeping his hands to himself if he still wants to have hands when I return.
The last thing I need during this meeting is to not have my head in the right space. And I'm already feeling the distraction just from that text, wondering what's going on with Adeline and why she's upset.
And it's that very distraction that has me not noticing the man coming towards me.
"Hello, Mr. Wolf," says a voice, breaking me out of my reverie.
My frown deepens as I stare up at the man standing a few inches from my table. I'm mad at myself that I didn't even hear or see him approach.
It's not even safe for me to be seen in public, let alone letting my guard down and allowing people to sneak up on me.
At this moment I'm glad this is a planned meeting, because, fuck, I could be dead by now.
And who would take care of Adeline then?
Pushing that thought, and any thoughts about Adeline really, to the side, I stand and greet Mr. Wepner with a nod.
We've met several times before this day, but always on his turf — U.S. soil. This is the first time that I've asked him to travel to see me. And even though I feel uneasy about meeting so close to the island I'm currently residing on, I didn't want to take any more time from Adeline than what was absolutely necessary.
Henry Wepner is tall with gray hair and matching eyes. He's wearing a casual suit, no tie with the top two buttons of his dress shirt undone. He looks like a regular tourist or someone here on business.
When he holds out his hand, I stare at it, not returning the gesture and keeping my hands safe in my pockets.
After a few seconds of letting his hand hang in the air, he withdraws it and nervously chuckles. "That's right. I always forget. You don't do handshakes."
I flash him a smirk as we both have a seat.
"You know, I had a friend like you back in college," he remarks.
I want to roll my eyes, but I suppress the urge. I've had many people tell me about a friend who cleans a little too much or an uncle who has to have his pens lined up on his desk just so…but none of them have ever compared to me or my eccentricities.
