Page 26 of The Alpha's Gamble
Now there was a gross thought.
MacKenna and Walter…ugh, ugh, ugh. Walter and anyone, frankly. But MacKenna and Walter? No. It made me sick.
But it also made sense. That look of pure hatred he’d given me as MacKenna told me he’d deal with me himself. The way he’d seemed too intensely invested in me and in my relationship with MacKenna.
He wanted what I had.
And gods, the irony in that. If that little fucker only knew…
The thing was, if I had it right, then Walter wanted me gone, but he wouldn’t be earning any points with MacKenna by going about it like this. If he’d made me attack him just so that I’d look bad, he was lying to MacKenna, and I knew damn well MacKenna didn’t like being lied to. And if I had it wrong, and he had some other agenda, then it couldn’t be for MacKenna’s benefit, could it? Or he’d have been honest about it.
I shouldn’t care. If Walter wanted to fuck around and find out with the vengeful, grudge-holding asshole who’d blackmailed me and humiliated me and forced me to take his cock and his knot, then I ought to be cheering him on and hoping they screwed each other over.
But I cared. I grabbed a pillow and shoved it over my face and screamed into it.
That didn’t help, and I lay there rumpled and breathing hard and hating myself.
At last I heard movement in the suite: someone coming in the door, footsteps approaching.
They knocked at my door.
Right on cue, my stomach gurgled and hissed at me, and I realized that at least half of my physical misery was simple hunger.
The girl who stood at the door when I opened it (wondering, as I did, if MacKenna would be enough of a dick to call the police on me for opening the door when he’d told me not to, even to get my food) gave me a wide-eyed once-over. Yeah, I probably looked like I’d been dragged backward through a hedge—and my werewolf nose confirmed that I smelled like it, too.
Fuck.
I thanked her and took the tray as quickly as possible, shutting the door and setting the food on the desk by the window.
Three covered plates, one large and two smaller, and a covered bowl. A strong, savory odor of lobster and salmon and a hint of chocolate rose from the tray.
My heart felt like it dropped down to somewhere around my ankles. I rushed back to the door and flung it open. “Wait!”
Halfway down the hall and about to escape this den of madness, the girl stopped short, visibly straightened her shoulders and took a second, and then turned to face me, customer service smile painted across her pretty face.
That killed any self-esteem I might have had left. Not even a real smile.
But I had to know. “Who ordered my food? Did the kitchen just choose at random?”
“No, sir. Mr. MacKenna ordered specifically off the room service menu. Is there something wrong? I can replace—”
“No, thank you, it’s fine. Thank you. Nothing’s wrong with it.” Except that now I was more confused and upset and off-balance than ever. “Thanks.”
I shut the door in her baffled face and slumped against it, breathing hard. Okay. Maybe I was imagining things. I pushed off the door and went back to the tray, edging closer to it as if it could bite me. Gingerly, I lifted off the covers. He’d ordered me salmon—only not the same dish I’d had the other day. It looked like it was stuffed with something that smelled like crab, and possibly brie. My mouth watered; it had to be one of the most luxurious foods I’d ever seen. And, of course, the soup was lobster bisque. The small plates held a salad and another flourless chocolate cake.
MacKenna had ordered this personally. He could’ve kept me on bread and water, or chosen things that he thought I’d hate. Instead, he’d gone for the most expensive items on the menu…and also the dishes I’d already shown I liked. Including dessert.
Or had he ordered them simply because they were the most expensive, and he was either running up my “bill” on purpose or mocking me for being formerly wealthy? If he wanted to do that, he could’ve ordered something super expensive he thought I’d hate. That’s what I might’ve done.
Either way, I had too much to think about. Walter. MacKenna. The police. The fucking salmon and the motives behind it, for fuck’s sake.
Freaking gods, I was losing my mind.
With no reason not to, I sat down and tucked in. Lobster bisque and chocolate cake might not solve my problems, but at least I’d feel like they had for a few minutes. My brother always thought that I was picky about food because I was an asshole who didn’t care about other people’s preferences in contrast to my own.
Well, okay. Sometimes.
But it was possibly the only uncomplicated pleasure in my life. Sleeping: there were nightmares and anxiety dreams, or at best, sex dreams with confusing protagonists and unpleasant emotions. Sex: yeah, that was a whole other can of worms, because half the things I wanted, I could never have. I didn’t want a high-powered female alpha (my parents’ ultimate goal for me), or their second-best, a high-powered werewolf woman from a prominent and wealthy family. What I did want…well, I got drunk and gave anonymous blowjobs. Yeah. I didn’t want to think about that.
