Chapter 21

I trim the roses, absentmindedly. Lucien hasn’t called since the night I showed up at the pack house. He hasn’t even sent any messages through the staff.

It has been a month, I tried to convince myself that I don't care where he goes out, who he's with, or whether I've lost the novelty I once had to him.

Somehow, I don't think he'll kill me. Exile me at most, but not outright kill me. Or he might just return me to the pack house and I'll fade away, hating both him and myself.

I look at Hugh, the landscaper. He is staring at both me and the roses with ill-concealed pity and I want to fall into the ground. I've butchered them again. That obvious, huh?

The staff have noticed too. They act too happy and cheerful around me, feeding me till I think I'll explode. They don't mention Lucien's name around me, like that would help.

In a way, I prefer judgment to pity. The looks they send my ear when they think I'm not looking. The invitation to plays, to movies, to dances…

All to help with my supposed heartbreak. I wipe the dirt off my forehead and grimace when I create an even bigger smudge of dirt there. I need to think before I lose my mind. I straighten and thank Hugh for letting me help out. He nods, telling me that if I’d like to, he would show me how to trim the roses without hurting them. I smile.

I want to tell him I doubt I would know how to care for roses and I would probably kill all of his beloved roses but I know he means well, so I agree.

I walk to the room, feeling tired and drained out. Crystal, however, is more opinionated than ever.

You should go to him. She says.

“I already did. He brought me back.” I reply, standing at the vanity and looking at myself.

Are you going to give up so easily? She asks.

“There was never anything to give up on.” I say. “I'm just his mistress.”

You're his mate. She insists.

“I was till I framed him for murder and tried to marry someone else. I'm his mistress, Crystal. Nothing more.”

Don’t you want more? She continues.

“I'm fine with what I have.” I say, taking off my clothes to get into the shower.

Go to him. She prods.

I've finally had it. The pity, the forced happiness and smiles…now this. My own wolf—a part of me I've never wanted less than I do now—is nagging. I growl, angry and frustrated, and scream, letting the water wash down on me.

“Shut up!” I scream at Crystal. “Shut up! I'm tired of it! The sad looks and the forced happiness…leave me alone!”

I feel a bit of grief as I feel her whimpering and shrinking inside me. I hug myself and curl to a fetal position, tears I can't hold back anymore running down my face.

A few days later, Cecile, the maid who brought breakfast up to me, tells me there is going to be a party tonight. She looks at my face, probably wondering why I'm not overjoyed at the thought of seeing Lucien again.

What’s the point? I wonder, picking up a croissant, when he would probably just ignore me like he has in the last month? Or would he sleep with me and go away before I can wake up the next morning?

I force a smile. “Thank you for breakfast.” I say and watch her leave.

I am in the maze butchering—I mean, trimming—the hedges with Hugh when I hear Lucien’s car roll into the driveway. I am still trying to dispel all murderous thoughts relating to the pitchfork in my hand as I raked leaves away.

“Miss?” Hugh says. I look up

“Yes, Hugh?” I ask pleasantly.

He looks slightly uncomfortable. “The alpha…he’s arrived.”

My smile widens. “Oh, I know.” I say, raking away with added vigor.

I sense, rather than hear Lucien walk up to me a few minutes later. “Corrigan.” He calls out. He sounds angry. I look up. He actually is angry. He is walking towards me in a three piece suit that really should get banned…

He takes hold of my hands, turning my palms upwards so he can see them. “What are you doing?” He asks with obviously forced patience. Well I’m at the end my rope, too, so fuck this.

“Baking a cake, Lucien.” I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You have blisters.” He says more patiently.

“Makes me a little more unattractive, doesn’t it? On my hands and knees when it’s not for you.”

He remains straight faced. “I cannot tell whether that poorly scripted joke was an attempt at crudity or bluntness.”

“Why did you come here, Lucien? Finally remembered the girl you had locked up in your hotel room?” I say, pulling my hands free and dusting them against my jeans.

“Don’t worry, Lucien.” I call over my shoulder. “A little spa session and a manicure will get me all dolled up and ready. I might even get some lingerie.”

“Corrigan, I am exactly ten seconds away from breaking this door down.” Lucien says through the door.

I put down the brush I am using on my hair and stand. As much as I would love to keep him behind that door, I wouldn’t want the staff worrying about us so I turn the lock and open the door. Lucien walks in, backing me into the room.

“Now explain to me what the hell that was about.” He demands.

I shrug. “What part?”

“The gardening, the talk. The attitude.”

“Attitude?” I echo, feigning confusion. “What attitude?”

He heaves a deep breath and takes hold of my shoulders. “Listen to me, Corrigan. Things are a bit tight at The Pack house…”

“There is absolutely no reason for you to tell me about what happened in the pack house.” I say, cutting him off. “I’m your mistress, Lucien. Not your therapist.”

Something freezes off in him. It is only for a fragment of a second, but I see it. In his expression. In his body language. Something shuts off in him. Refusing to feel anything, I sit on the bed and take my top off, arching my back so that my breasts are pushed forward.

“So are we doing this or not?” I say, schooling my face to boredom. “I’m a bit messy but…” I let my voice trail off suggestively.

“Believe me, Corrigan. I’ve never felt less like sex in my life. So it would be really nice if you held off on the siren act.”

He picks my shirt up and hands it to me. With shaking fingers and a flushed face, I take it from him. I purse my lips.

“There will be an event tonight. I will need you to act as my hostess.” He says coolly. “I assume you acted as hostess for Dante in the past?”

I nod, speechless.

“So I'll see you tonight.” He says and turns the lock, walking out without a second glance.

So that was it! He wanted a hostess for an event. He hadn’t come back because he hadn’t been able to stay away. He had come back to get the convenient mistress who had enough class to play hostess for him.

Suddenly, I wanted the explanation he had begun. The reason he had stayed away. I want that night back. The night we had had all our walls brought down. It is gone and I’m scared I’ll never get it back

My dress is a black velvet piece with a boat line neck and a cowl skirt. I dress with extra care tonight, pinning my hair at the top of my head with pins and leaving a few tendrils floating down my neck and temples. My throat is bare but I wear two diamond studs on my ears. I keep my makeup demure and simple, opting for a more natural look.

I walk to the elevator, waiting nervously for the doors to slide open. Waiting for the arrested expression on his face. That short period of speechlessness that always gets the guys in movies. I bite my lip, then let go of it so I don't ruin my lipstick.

When the elevator door slides open I feel my breath hitched and I have to force myself to be calm. It's nothing new. It's just another male, that's all.

Lucien is standing in the elevator, fixing his cuff links. His eyes are fixed on his task. I clear my throat and his head snaps up.

He stills and studies me for almost ten seconds. Almost like I'm some lab experiment.

“We're almost late.” He says, continuing with his task. I want to hit him over the head for not noticing all this—everything—but I walk in, letting the doors slide closed.

I feel his breath fanning my neck and I steel myself, forcing myself not to notice the smell of his cologne, or the sheer magnetism of his presence.

“But for what it’s worth, pet,” he whispers softly, “you’re beautiful.”