Chapter 2 THE DEVIL IN MY ROOM

Frederick

I woke up feeling a bit tired and strange.

“Someone is in this room,” I thought, jumping up with a start.

“Oh, Heather.” My face paled as I stared at her for a minute. She was lying naked on my bed, my duvet comfortably covering her. Unconsciously, I started counting her breaths as she heaved up and down. Snapping back to reality, I realized I was already married.

“All of this is wrong,” I muttered. I put on my shirt and tried to sneak out from under the duvet, but Heather’s hands found mine.

“Don’t go,” she said sleepily, holding me tight.

“Why?” I sighed heavily.

“I just want you beside me,” she said, peering up from the duvet and meeting my angry stare.

“That’s not a very smart thing to say,” I replied flatly, swatting her hands away.

“Why not?” She sat up. She was braless, and my throat tightened.

“Why?” I breathed in and out. “You left me for…God knows where….”

“France,” she interjected instantly, holding my hand again.

“I don’t give a fuck where you’ve been,” I snapped, swatting her hand away and tucking it back under the duvet. “You left me, then came back the day I brought my wife home, and now you’re curled up naked in my bed, telling me you want me beside you.”

Heather shook her head. “People won’t get the real picture when you say it like that,” she said calmly, no longer looking sleepy.

“Please, paint me the real picture,” I said sarcastically.

“A girl.”

“Hm, huh.” I nodded repeatedly.

“You’re distracting me,” she glared. “A girl who wants to travel the world and the love of her life who is stuck being an Alpha. I grew up in Torrance, Fred; you don’t expect me to remain here for the rest of my life, do you?”

“You wanted to leave, Heather,” I said heatedly. “This has nothing to do with seeing the world.”

“It has everything to do with it,” Heather raised her voice slightly. “Do you know I’ve been to Paris?”

My brows creased. “You think you’re the only one who’s traveled?”

“Wow!” she exclaimed. “You didn’t tell me that. It’s a beautiful city, isn’t it?”

“I’ve been to the United Kingdom,” I nodded, ignoring her last statement.

“If you mention one more country, you must have traveled far wider than me,” she chuckled.

"I'm married now; you shouldn’t be here," I said curtly. "When the day breaks, please leave. I don’t want to make this mistake with you again."

I got out of bed and put on my trousers. Heather stared at me expressionlessly as I stormed out of the room.

The hallway felt cold when I stepped out; it wasn’t the time of year for such coldness, so why was the mansion so chilly?

I strolled downstairs, hoping to reach my study—the only place in the house where I was guaranteed absolute peace.

As I descended the last steps, I saw a figure looking up at my painting. My wolf recognized her scent before I could register who she was. Charlotte glanced at the painting, and the look in her eyes didn’t seem like she appreciated it. She looked around as though she could sense me, but I knew she couldn’t, since I was in the shadows, and she wouldn’t let her wolf search for me.

She walked toward the hallway that led to another set of rooms. "Where is she going?" I wondered.

"What are you doing, Charlotte?" I asked, stepping out of the shadows. My face was arched, and I stepped forward, expecting an explanation.

She stopped in her tracks and smiled nervously. I could see her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“I… I was looking for the kitchen,” she stammered. “And the laundry room,” she quickly added. “I’d like to get a head start on my duties in the house.”

“What?” My face twisted in half amusement.

"I'm looking for…," she began to repeat herself, but I interrupted her quickly.

"I heard you the first time." I raised my hand, signaling that I didn’t want her to speak just yet. "You think you need to do chores here?" I asked.

"Do I not?" she threw my question back at me, shifting around nervously.

"Just go to your room," I said, shaking my head and waving her off. "It’s past midnight." I looked at her incredulously. "Goodness, you must have been so traumatized at home."

"But at least I should…" she began, but I cut her off firmly.

"Charlotte, you’re not in your father’s house anymore. If you love that place so much, I can ask Thomas to take you there when the day breaks." I could see the fear my words put into her.

I turned and walked back to my room. Heather was still sitting up when I entered.

"What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost," she asked, studying me.

When I didn’t answer, she shook my shoulders. "Have you?"

"You won’t believe what I saw downstairs," I said, my eyes wide.

"Try me," Heather urged.

"Charlotte was down there trying to find the laundry room," I pointed downstairs, my voice low.

"Charlotte? Your wife?" I could hear the amusement in her voice.

"Yes," I answered slowly, suddenly regretting that I’d told her.

"Wow, what a traditional housewife. We don’t breed many of those wolves anymore," she said sarcastically, laughing.

"Mind your tongue," I glared. "That’s my wife you’re talking about." I dove under the duvet, then brought my head up after a while. "You should be gone when the sun comes up."

"You keep reminding me," she muttered, getting out of bed to sit on the couch.