“I’m Irene Conridge Van Holtz.”

“Ric’s aunt. I’ve heard a lot about you. And I think you met my sister, Ronnie Lee.”

She looked up at the town house. “Is there a problem?”

“Pardon?”

“You work in security, right? That’s what Dee-Ann says. You and your brothers. So if you’re here at my friend’s house with the children I consider family, I’m wondering if you’re here about a problem.”

“No problem.”

“Dee-Ann’s cousin lives across the street with that wild dog pack, correct? That’s what Holtz told me.”

“Holtz?”

“My husband. I call him Holtz. Anyway, I assumed you were here to make sure there were no threats to the wild dogs.”

Ricky smiled. “That was checked out before they put down their first piece of luggage.”

“I see.”

“Anyway, I’ll let you get in and see everybody.” He again started down the stairs. “Maybe you can rescue poor Toni. It’s as if her kin descended on her like the hounds from hell.”

“Have a nice night,” she told him.

“You, too, ma’am.”

Irene watched the wolf head across the street. She had to admit, she’d always thought her mate was unnaturally large, especially around the shoulders and neck. But every one of the wolves she’d met from the Smith Pack had proved to her what unnaturally large truly was. Thick necks. Enormous shoulders and chests. And bizarrely large feet—especially on the women.

Yet what Irene really liked about all wolves was how easy it was to figure out what they were thinking or feeling just by watching the expression on their faces.

And Irene knew what she’d seen when the wolf mentioned Toni.

Irene walked up the stairs and into the house, motioning for the limo driver to put her bags on the floor by the door.

While he took care of that, she headed down the marble hallway until she found the Jean-Louis Parker family in the living room. Toni stood in front of her seated family, a notepad in her hand.

“All right,” she was saying, not realizing that Irene was there. “This will not be hard to manage. I’ll pull together schedules for everyone, and I’m sure there is a way to manage the number of rooms we have in this place for you all to get in your work or daily practices.”

“I should get the ballroom,” Oriana snapped. “I need the most space.”

“And the most mirrors,” Troy muttered.

“Don’t you have a protractor to stick in your mouth . . . pointy side first?”

“Spell protractor.”

“I can spell pathetic lonely loser!”

“Yes,” Kyle dryly cut in, “which when you hit thirty-five and your career is over you’ll so definitely be.”

“Enough,” Toni barked. And it was, literally . . . a bark. “I alone will decide which rooms go to whom and you will suck it up when I do.”

There was some angry muttering but none of the children were brave enough to challenge their sister.

Toni looked down at her notebook. “Now, let’s see . . .”

That’s when Irene realized something: Toni wasn’t going to tell them. Anything.

So it was a very good thing that Irene was known for her cold, brutal, and heartless ability to cut through to the heart of everything. If Toni wasn’t going to say anything, Irene would.

“Congratulations, Antonella,” Irene said from her spot by the big entryway.

Toni’s head snapped up, brown eyes locking on Irene.

“Hey, Reeny!” Paul called out. Since Jackie had dragged that poor jackal home so many years ago, he’d insisted on calling Irene “Reeny.” Irene had hated it initially, but then the nickname, like Paul, had grown on her.

“Hello, Paul.”

“So what are you congratulating my girl for?”

Irene feigned surprise by raising her brows. “She didn’t tell you?”

With the entire family’s attention focused on Irene, they didn’t see Toni bare a fang in warning.

“No. She didn’t tell us anything.” Paul looked at his daughter. “What didn’t you tell us?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Is it about your job interview? Did you get the job?”

And that’s why Paul had grown on Irene. Not a lot of men had that sort of hope and eagerness in their voice when asking an adult daughter about an office job that would mostly involve using a copier.

Toni shrugged. “They made an offer, but with all that we have going on here—”

“What?” Kyle dryly asked. “You’re not snapping up that job where you can be an office drone all day? What are you thinking?”

“Oh,” Irene informed the family, slowly walking into the library. “They’re actually giving that job to someone else. Probably a college kid since it’s just for the summer. It only paid an intern stipend and was really for college credit.”

“So she couldn’t even get the office drone job?” Oriana snickered.

“No. But she did get the Director of Team Travel and Promotions job, which I believe starts in the six figures, comes with a company car, extensive travel, full benefits, including artery repair—apparently all those who join the team get that and I decided not to delve further into why it’s necessary—and a yearly, substantial bonus depending on her performance. I seriously doubt this will be a little office drone job for our Antonella. This is a full-time career for her. Aren’t we all proud?” she asked, and began to politely applaud.