SHARE


    12:06 Mon<b>, </b>Sep 22


    Mated by Contract to the Alpha


    <b>Chapter </b><b>47 </b>


    Reba’s POV


    I woke to sunlight streaming through partially opened curtains, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. The sheets were softer than mine, the mattress firmer<b>, </b>and the pillow carried a masculine <b>scent </b>that made my stomach flutter with recognition.


    Dominic’s bedroom. I was in Dominic’s bed.


    64


    Memories of the previous night flooded back–the shower, the intimacy, falling asleep in his arms. I turned, expecting to find him beside me, but his side of the bed was empty, the sheets cool to the touch. He’d been gone for


    some time.


    I sat up, clutching the sheet to my chest, suddenly self–conscious despite the fact that he’d seen me naked just hours before. The room looked different in the morning light–less intimidating, more lived–in. The dark blue walls were adorned with a few abstract paintings, and a bookshelf in the corner held an impressive collection of business and economic texts alongside a few surprising titles on art and history.


    The door opened, and I tensed, but it was only Diana entering with a tray. She didn’t seem at all surprised to find


    me in Dominic’s bed.


    “Good morning, Miss Brown,” she said, her tone professional as she set the tray on the nightstand. “Mr. Sterling asked me to bring you breakfast and to let you know he had an early meeting.”


    I clutched the sheet tighter, feeling my cheeks heat. “Thank you, Diana.”


    She nodded, then gestured to the chair in the corner. “I’veid out fresh clothes for you. The room has been thoroughly cleaned as Mr. Sterling requested. All traces of the previous scent have been removed.”


    It took me a moment to realize she was referring to William’s scent on my art supplies. The reminder sent a fresh pang of grief through me.


    “My supplies,” I began, then faltered. “Were they all thrown away?”


    Diana’s expression softened slightly. “No, Miss. I salvaged what I could and ced them in a new box in your room.”


    Relief washed through me. “Thank you, Diana.”


    She nodded again, then turned to leave. At the door, she paused. “Mr. Sterling also asked me to inform you that Raymond will be here at noon to take you to Silvercrest Medical Center. Your father’s surgery has been scheduled for


    this afternoon.”


    My heart leapt at the news. “Really? But I thought it wasn’t for another week!”


    “Mr. Sterling made <b>some </b>calls,” Diana said simply, then left, closing the door behind her.


    12:06 Mon<b>, </b>Sep <b>22 </b>


    I sat there for a moment, processing this information. Dominic had expedited my father’s surgery. After our fight, after I’d brought another wolf’s scent into his home, he’d still honored our agreement–more than honored it, elerated it.


    I ate the breakfast Diana had brought–fresh fruit, yogurt, a croissant still warm from the oven–then dressed in the clothes she’did out. They were mine, items from my closet at the vi,fortable but presentable enough for a hospital visit.


    As I made my way back to my room, I passed the spot where I’d knelt the night before, gathering my broken art supplies. The carpet had been vacuumed, all traces of the scattered items removed. It was as if the incident had never happened.


    In my room, I found a new box on the desk, as Diana had mentioned. Opening it, I discovered the few art supplies that had survived both William’s purge and Dominic’s anger. There weren’t many–a few pencils, a sketchbook with water damage on the edges, a couple of brushes that had escaped serious damage.


    But as I moved these items aside, I found something else beneath them–arge, t case of polished cherry wood. My breath caught as I opened it to reveal aplete set of professional–grade art supplies–brushes of every size and shape, pencils in a full range of hardness, watercolors, pastels, even a set of expensive markers I’d once coveted but never been able to afford.


    On top was a small card with a handwritten note:


    –


    [Use new tools to start a new life. Don’t look for William again. – D]


    I ran my fingers over the supplies, almost afraid to touch them. They were far superior to anything I’d owned before, the kind of tools professional designers used. The cost must have been astronomical.


    My phone buzzed with a text notification from Dominic:


    [I expect you to be ready when Raymond arrives. We’ll discuss your design education when I return this evening.]


    The message was typical of him–direct<b>, </bmanding, allowing no argument. But after the gift he’d left, I couldn’t find it in myself to be irritated by his tone.


    I quickly responded:


    <b>[</b>Thank you for the art supplies. They’re incredible. I’ll be ready for Raymond.]


    His response came almost immediately;


    [Don’t make other ns for tonight.J


    I found myself smiling at the phone, despite the clearmand in his words. Was he jealous? The thought sent a flutter through my stomach.


    12:06 Mon<b>, </b><b>Sep </b><b>22 </b>


    I showered and dressed carefully, wanting to look presentable for the hospital visit. As I was putting the finishing touches on my makeup, the doorbell rang. Raymond was right on time.


    64


    I hurried downstairs, my mind already racing ahead to the hospital, to seeing my father before his surgery. I’d have to be careful about what I said, making sure to stick to the story about my job at Sterling Enterprises.


    Raymond was waiting in the foyer, his tall frame impable as always in his driver’s uniform. He smiled when he


    saw me.


    “Good morning, Miss Brown. Are you ready to go?”


    I nodded, grabbing my purse. “Yes, thank you, Raymond.”


    As we walked to the car, Raymond surprised me by asking, “Did you like the art supplies Mr. Sterling selected for


    you?”


    I nced at him<b>, </b>curious<b>. </b>“Yes, they’re amazing. How did he know what to get?”


    Raymond opened the car door for me, a slight smile ying at his lips. “Mr. Sterling contacted the CEO of Artisan Elitest night. Had them send over their top–of–the–line design set as a rush order.”


    I sank into the backseat, processing this information. Dominic had gone to that much trouble for me? After our fight?


    ‘He must have called them <b>as </b>soon as he left the bedroom,” I murmured, more to myself than to Raymond.


    Raymond slid into the driver’s seat<b>, </b>catching my <b>eye </b>in the rearview mirror. “Miss Brown, you should know something. I’ve worked for Mr. Sterling for five years, and I’ve never seen him go to such lengths for anyone else.


    You are the first.‘


    Chapter Comments