Chapter 115
[ 1,061 words ]
Arabella Toussaint:
“I don’t know why I find it so nauseating when those two are together,” I said, grimacing as I paced beside the bed. For a second, there was silence on the other end of the phone.
Then I heard Maya’s voice, “Umm… by those two, you mean…”
“You know exactly who I mean,” I snapped, turning sharply at the foot of the bed.
“Are you talking about Beta Bradley and that Omega, Ara?” she said, sounding amused.
I rolled my eyes and dropped back against the pillows. “Don’t be a bitch. I’m talking about Lucien and Jasmine.”
“Ohhh,” she drawled.
“Don’t ’ohhh’ me,” I muttered, grabbing one of the pillows and clutching it against my stomach.
Maya chuckled softly, but I wasn’t really in the mood to laugh. I fell back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds. “She kissed him right in front of me this morning,” I muttered in disgust. “With that disgusting sound… pushing her tongue down his throat!”
“Yuck!” Maya groaned.
I picked at a loose thread on the pillow, then pulled it free. “I don’t know why it’s bothering me, Maya. Which is stupid because they’re engaged. She has every right to kiss him.”
“And you have every right to hate watching it,” she replied.
“I don’t hate watching it. It just makes me uncomfortable.” I clicked my tongue inside my cheek.
“Sure,” she said, clearly not convinced. I pressed the pillow over my face for a moment.
“How are you really doing, Ara?” Her teasing faded, and her voice became more serious.
That question wiped away whatever little amusement I had left. I lowered the pillow into my lap and sat up slowly. “I want you to come here, Maya. I need you,” I admitted quietly.
This time, her silence lasted longer. “You want me to come to the palace?” She sounded surprised.
“Yeah.” I hugged the pillow tighter against my chest.
“Ara, you know I will.” Relief came so quickly that I closed my eyes and sank back against the headboard.
“Maya, I just…” I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the pillow. “I think I’d feel better if you were here. There are so many things to tell you… I want someone who… trusts me.”
“Then I’m coming.” She whispered.
“What about the café?”
She let out a long sigh. “The café is currently trying to murder me.” I laughed despite myself, tossing the pillow beside me.
“I’m serious,” she continued, sounding exasperated. “Yesterday the milk delivery was late, Chloe mixed up two supplier invoices, and Toby apparently believes being five minutes late doesn’t count as being late.”
“He learned that from you,” I teased, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.
“Watch your mouth, Toussaint,” she shot back, and that made me smile. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about hiring a manager. Things have been pretty rough since you left, and we’re finally making more than enough. So, now we can afford one.”
“You’re replacing me already?” I asked, feigning offense.
“Oh, absolutely. I’m putting up a sign tomorrow. Wanted: manager who doesn’t disappear for three years and then get kidnapped by a Lycan King.”
“I wasn’t kidnapped,” I protested, getting up from the bed and stretching my arms.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” she said with a snort. My smile faded a little at those words. I returned to the bed and sat on the edge, my hands falling into my lap.
If only she knew about my weird dreams. I pushed the thought away before I was tempted to tell her. “When can you come?” I asked.
“Give me a little time to sort things out here. I can’t just abandon everyone in the middle of a shift,” she said, her voice softening.
“I know.” I sucked in a breath.
“And Ara?” Her voice softened. “You’re not doing this alone, okay? Whatever is happening in that palace, I’m coming. Just give me a little time.”
A lump formed in my throat, but I refused to get emotional over the phone. I pressed my lips together.
“You better,” I said, trying to sound stern. “Or I’ll come back and fire you from your own café.”
“Bitch, I’d like to see you try,” she retorted with a laugh. When the call ended, I was smiling to myself like a silly ape.
I stared at the phone for a moment, then fell back onto the bed, pulling the pillow over my face with a sigh. I had barely put my phone down when someone knocked on the door.
Assuming it was one of the Omegas, I didn’t bother moving. “Come in.” My voice came out muffled beneath the pillow.
The door opened. “Hey. I hope you’re not resting.” That definitely wasn’t an Omega. I pulled the pillow off my face with a frown and sat up quickly.
“Bradley?” Beta Bradley stood in the doorway, looking slightly apologetic.
“Sorry for disturbing you, Arabella.” He stepped aside and gestured toward the corridor. “But there’s a seamstress here to see you.”
“A seamstress?” I repeated, getting off the bed. “Why?”
“She’s here to make sure you have something suitable to wear for dinner tonight.” I stared at him, wondering if he was serious.
“Come on, Beta Brad. I have clothes. I don’t need a seamstress.”
“I know.” Bradley gave me a look that suggested he was only the messenger and had no intention of taking responsibility for whatever royal nonsense was happening.
I folded my arms. “I’m not the same slave who lived here three years ago. I actually own clothes now.” And some of them were pretty damn nice.
The thought dragged up an old memory I could have happily lived without.
There had been a time in this palace when I owned almost nothing appropriate. Lucien had once joked that if I couldn’t find something suitable, he wouldn’t mind seeing me parade around naked.
Three years later, I had a suitcase full of perfectly decent clothes and enough self-respect to tell anyone who disagreed with them to mind their own business.
“So please tell whoever sent her that I’m capable of dressing myself.”
Bradley scratched the side of his cheek. “You can tell him yourself.” My arms slowly dropped.
Him? Lucien?
Bradley understood because he gave me a small, almost sympathetic nod.
Of course. Who else?
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