SLEEPING WITH WOLVESEN

Dear reader:

This book is the translation of one of my books in Spanish. I am a Spanish-speaking author, but I am doing my best to translate this beautiful novel into English. If you find an error, please comment to correct it, but please do it with kindness and consideration.

I hope you enjoy it.

Thank you!

Day

CHAPTER 1

He looked up and was lost far, far away, where the sea fiercely devoured the rock.

—I beg you, Ian, do it for me!

He tried to escape from her voice, from her whole figure sitting in front of him in a second—rate café in the port of the island, but her insistence finally brought him back to reality. It was always difficult to escape from Katherine! The Italian gave her a two—second glance: thirty years old, brunette, with tousled hair and a body any model would have killed for.

—Enough, Katherine, you didn't beg me like that even when we were having sex!

—I'll beg you if that's what you want. —She tried to seduce him, and suddenly it became all too obvious that this was the only bond between them—. Ian, we were together three years ago, and we've been friends ever since. Help me, I beg you!

True, lovers, and now Kathy ran the art gallery, owned by the Di Sávallo Empire, where he exhibited. She had been a good lover, cheerful, uninhibited, and above all married, with two children. She was adult enough to understand what so many women had trouble with: that no one stayed at her house, that he didn't want serious relationships and above all, that he didn't take responsibility for himself when he had a beautiful woman in front of him.

—I am thirty—one years old —he replied—, a lot of work and a perfectly balanced life. The last thing I need is to get complicated with Leah.

—But she needs it!

“Damn!", he roared inwardly.

He wasn't a selfish man, God knew he wasn't, but giving in to Katherine's request would be the most absurd thing he'd done in thirty years.

The island sang with euphoria in the early afternoon, and dozens of curious tourists wandered the small harbor. Ian had visited almost a decade ago, and since then he used to spend long periods of time in the residence he had acquired at one of the farthest ends of the island.

Camera over his shoulder, he had fallen in love with the jungle and the sea. He loved the serenity, the tongues of warm salt water in front of his house, the semi—wild lifestyle he led and above all his freedom. Twenty—six degrees and a peace that was only broken by the squawk of a blue heron or the howling of his wolves.

He put two fingers to his temples. Katherine must have been desperate to ask him to use the force of his character to control Leah. They both knew for a fact that he was an extremely domineering man, and if she had met the rest of his family, she would have been even more convinced: where a Di Sávallo commanded, everyone ran to obey.

But for the time being he was just Ian Blake, a stranger whom the press didn't bother, and he had no intention of altering his way of life either for Katherine or for better lovers.

—I'd like to be the solution, my dear, but I'm not —he said, crossing his arms—. I know that the loss of a child is a fatal blow to any family, and that someone must support Leah to get her back on her feet, but don't you think that the way you want to do it might be a little... harmful to her? Leah is sad, she is weak, she needs love and patience, not discipline.

He did his best to make his voice affable and conciliatory. He was far from imagining such suffering, and insensitivity was not one of his many faults.

—I have thought about it, of course I have thought about it! —Katherine choked on every word—. If I turn to you it is because I have seen no other way out. Leah has taken a path that can only lead to self—destruction, and I'm afraid. My God, I'm so afraid! She needs to get out of that house, she needs a strong hand to guide her, to force her to live.

—And why me?

—Because I don't know anyone as authoritarian as you! —Ian smiled internally; she would never think the same if she ran into Marco, or Fabio—. The last thing she needs is someone who treats her with pity and I know you won't!

For a few seconds he debated between what he didn't want to do and what he shouldn't do, which was the same thing, and made his decision: the most selfish perhaps, but the wisest.

—I will not do it. —On this occasion he was categorical. He got up from the table and left a bill beside the half—finished cup of hot tea—. You know I have a very special regard for you, but I'm afraid I can't help you.

—Ian, please! At least for a few days...

—Enough! —and that determination reminded him of who he was, even if no one on that little island had any idea of his true identity—. Enough, Katherine! Not for days, not for hours! I'm not taking your sister to live with me!

*********

Katherine wanted to make a gesture to stop him but restrained herself. If she knew the Italian at all, she was sure he wouldn't change his mind, not for her or anyone else. Ian Blake was a man of few words, so few that she hardly knew anything about him: he was a superb artist of photography, born in Florence, with many brothers whom he visited regularly, and highly prone to pack his bags and get lost with his wolves when no one was expecting.

That was all, and Katherine didn't mind knowing so little about his life. It was enough for her to know his character, and she was convinced that he was the only one who could bring Lia out of that painful lethargy.

He was six feet tall and weighed sixty pounds, with an irreverent spirit that never faltered in the face of anything. Ian was tough in every sense of the word, maybe for that reason and only for that reason, spending a few days with a man used to being obeyed would do her sister good. But her conviction was not enough, and she knew she had only succeeded in annoying him.

He turned to leave. The fact that Katherine had been his mistress made him treat her with some consideration, but she had gone too far, whether justified or not by her grief. To ask him to take care of Lia for a few weeks was stupid!

—Kika?

In the midst of their outburst, they hadn't noticed someone approaching them, and behind them a man's firm voice startled them.

—Ah...! Hello Johan. —Katherine greeted the newcomer with a rough wave of her hand, instantly regaining her self—control.

Ian noticed the latent awkwardness spreading like an icy fog, and couldn't help but be intrigued by the familiar interaction. It was obvious that they were related, only those closest to her called the headmistress of Galagas: Kika; however, he found her tensing her muscles to force a smile, and he understood that the encounter was not particularly pleasant for her.

—Johan, this is Ian Blake, he is one of the gallery's best—selling artists. —She flattered him in the introductions—. And this is Johan Carson, my brother—in—law. —No flattery.

The Italian was of a curious nature, and suddenly reached out his hand to greet Mr. Carson. A strong, sincere handshake, loaded with that innate confidence with which men of command carried themselves. He didn't seem at all the sort of fellow who couldn't deal with his wife's conflicts.

"Go away, Ian, you're on time." He said to himself, and in the same second disobeyed.

—Coffee? —he asked, knowing Katherine would appreciate it if he stayed by her side.

Johan hesitated for a moment but ended up agreeing. He dropped reluctantly into one of the wicker chairs and ruffled his hair restlessly. His face was taciturn and troubled, like that of a man who has suffered from long insomnia.

—I can't stay more than a minute, but thank you. Kika, I need to talk to you later... you know, about Lia.

Katherine's fingers lost all vestige of self—control and twisted hidden in her lap. After her two children, her sister was the most important person in her life, her friend, her comfort zone.

Ian was surprised that Johan would bring up such a delicate matter in front of him, who was after all a complete stranger, and exasperated that it didn't stop him.

—What's going on with Lia? —The anxiety in the woman's tone was finer than the finest of daggers.

Her brother—in—law hesitated for a second and then shrugged his shoulders, as if it were of no importance to acquaint a stranger with the inner workings of his household, and the gesture of scathing indifference transformed him in an instant in the Italian's eyes.

—I don't know what to do with her anymore, Kika, she's getting worse and worse.

—You have to understand her and help her. —Katherine's accent suddenly became authoritative. There were no tears and self—pity—. She just lost her baby, you have to be patient.

—Our baby, Kika —he corrected her, but his gestures reflected a deep apathy—. She was my daughter too.

—But you didn't carry her in your womb for nine months! Lia needs to heal, and you must give her time.

Johan played with the cup of black coffee the waitress had brought him.

—It's been almost three months —he murmured, losing himself in the circles he was drawing in the dark liquid with the spoon—. I'm sorry....

—What? What are you sorry for?

And like his wolves, Ian could smell the fury of the coming gale.

—I can't go through with this.

—Johan! What can't you go on with? What do you mean? —Katherine rebuked him.

The table shook with the shrill whistle of the cell phone and Mr. Carson took the call with a stern face, his brow straight, his teeth clenched. Who would think he wasn't capable of helping his wife?

—I'll be there in five minutes —he declared and turned to Kathy with confirmation of the disaster reflected on his face—. You'd better come with me, Lia is missing.