Page 52 of The Alpha's Protective Mate

My wolf growls.

Who is that? Why is Charlotte touching him in such a familiar manner?

As they begin walking down the street, jealousy burns within me.

She moved on. She didn’t wait for me. She’s already got someone else.

My wolf wants to tear that man limb from limb.

But I can’t forget the look on her face.

Has she ever smiled at me like that?

Perhaps when she was drunk.

What am I doing?

I turn around and stare at my empty office. I’m letting her walk away from me. And if she does, it’ll be the most convenient thing for everyone.

Everyone but me.

I wish I hadn’t told Harry to take Zeno home with him. The office seems lonelier without his yapping.

I grab a bottle of unopened wolf whiskey and head over to the couch to drink it. A few chugs have my insides burning, and I throw my head back on the couch, gazing at the ceiling. This was my whole life before Charlotte: working, getting drunk, and going to sleep. On the days I didn’t get drunk, I went home to an empty house.

Charlotte’s presence brought the spark into my life that I’ve always craved. And now, I’m letting her slip through my fingers.

What was so great about that man, anyway, that she had to wrap her arms around him? His face was admittedly not the worst—better than mine, at least. I lift my hand to touch the scarred tissue. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she does find my scars hideous. Maybe she’s pleased that I’m no longer bothering her.

A knock on the door has me looking over, but I ignore it. I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone.

“Robert? It’s me, Cynthia.”

I blink, surprised.

“It’s open,” I call out reluctantly.

The woman who walks in has beautiful silver hair, which is tied into a knot on her head, and she’s wearing a suit.

I take another swig from my whiskey. “I’m sorry, but this is a bad time.”

“We have an appointment,” Cynthia says, frowning at me. “Your company wanted to work on a project with mine. Remember? You emailed me a month ago. We said we’d meet after hours?”

“I’m sorry, Cynthia.” I glance at her. “I’m having a shitty day, and I just want to get drunk and dwell in some self-pity, if that’s okay with you.”

I expect her to leave. Cynthia is Adam’s mate; she and I get along, but we don’t spend a lot of time together. The polite thing would be to leave.

Cynthia raises a brow. “You can get drunk after our meeting.”

I glare at her. “I don’t want to have a meeting. I just want to be left alone. I’ll reschedule.”

“I’m very busy this month, Robert.” Cynthia shoots me an annoyed look. “Why’re you getting drunk, anyway?”

I go back to staring at the ceiling after taking another swig from the bottle. “My love life is a shit show.”

Cynthia decides to offer sympathy. “Oh. Got your heart broken?”

“Something like that,” I sigh heavily.

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