Page 112 of The Alpha's Protective Mate

Her lips curve slightly, and I think I hear her say, “Look after her.”

But she’s already walking toward Ricky, and I wonder if I just imagined it all.

“Angie,” I hear Ricky greet her. “You look exhausted.”

Her laughter is soft, and as I close the door behind me, I can hear the weariness in it. It saddens me for some inexplicable reason, and I have to stop myself from turning around and looking at her.

Getting into my car, I think about what I just learned, and my fingers tap against the steering wheel. Is it possible that Charlotte and I are mated? It would explain why I knew where she was that night with Terrence. I could feel her presence. I never had the chance to think about it since Florian was found murdered that very night, and then other things kept happening.

But what if…?

I close my eyes, searching for a flicker, just one hint of Charlotte’s presence within me. When I come up empty, my eyes flutter open, and I stare at my hands clutching the wheel, disappointed.

My lips twist in a wry smile.

I got a little too excited, I guess.

Starting up the car, I begin the drive home.

******

There is a broken cup in the kitchen trash when I get home, and I wonder if she broke it in anger. She doesn’t seem the type, but as I pick up the handle and see the design on it, I realize it’s her favorite cup.

“Oh, she definitely smashed this one,” I mutter to myself. I can see the coffee stains on the wall, as well, and somebody’s poor attempt to clean it up. “What did you do, Robert?”

Fortunately, when I go to check on her, Charlotte is fast asleep in bed, but I see the tear stains on her face, and my heart nearly stops. My hand comes to rest on her shoulder, wanting to wake her up and ask what I did to make her sad, ready to grovel if I have to.

“I don’t like it when you cry.” My thumb strokes her soft cheek, and she moves toward my hand, as if seeking the heat.

I would like nothing more than to get into bed beside her, but I’m filthy, and I don’t think she’ll appreciate waking up to see me next to her when I’ve clearly done something to piss her off. Maybe a nice breakfast tomorrow would soften her up toward me.

I head off to take a shower.

As I’m about to get in, Harry calls.

“What do you want, Harry?” I turn on the hot water and watch the steam rise.

“Basta called. Apparently, you asked him to design a diamond set.”

“Yeah, is it ready?” My lips spread into a pleased smile.

“Yep. He’s asking if he should bring it by the office tomorrow.”

“During lunch,” I tell him. “What about the books I told you to find for me?”

My assistant and younger brother groans. “I found one book series, but finding first editions is really hard, Robert.”

“And you’re a very capable young man.” I grin into the phone. “I don’t care how expensive it is, Harry.”

“Are you sure Charlotte even wants first editions of those books?” Harry asks, grumpy.

“I want her to have them.” I recall how she went on and on about starting her own book collection. She was incredibly drunk, so I doubt she remembers it. But I do. I managed to get the names of some of the authors she likes, and the rest of the information I found in her apartment, on the small book shelves.

Women usually like diamonds and jewelry, but I think Charlotte has a preference for simpler things and hobbies.

Harry ends the call, still complaining, and I set aside the phone to wash the day’s dirt and filth off of me. By the time I get out of the shower, it’s nearing midnight, and I yawn. Rubbing a towel through my hair, with a second one wrapped around my hips, I look out the window idly, and then, I go still.

A figure is walking away from the house.

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