Page 39 of Knot the One They Want

The maid opens and closes her mouth like a gasping fish, clearly at a loss for how to respond. I can practically see the gears turning in her head as she tries to decide if it's worth defying me.

I arch a brow, letting the silence stretch between us. Challenging her to refuse.

Finally, she drops her gaze, shoulders sagging almost imperceptibly. "Of course, Miss Blackwood. I'll see what I can arrange."

"Thank you… what did you say your name was?"

"Ellen," she answers in a clipped tone, as if she thinks I'm not good enough to know her name.

"Ellen," I repeat, offering a gracious smile, but it doesn't reach my eyes. I'm well practiced at being polite to people I know are gossiping behind my back. For some reason, I actually believed my mates' home would be different. "I appreciate iteverso much."

She nods stiffly, not quite meeting my gaze as she hurries past me down the hall. I watch her retreat, a small flicker of satisfaction temporarily thawing the ice in my veins.

It's a hollow victory, I know. Keeping the snooty staff in line won't change my situation. Won't make my alphas want me. But right now, I'll take any semblance of self-respect. And I won't let them think they can get away with abusing me just because I'm not an alpha.

I learned my lesson about becoming a doormat years ago. Back when Carrie, the only nanny who didn't treat me like an afterthought to my brothers and sister, turned around and framed me for stealing Vivienne's jewelry. She would have gotten away with it, if it wasn't for dad's hidden security camera in the hallway. Paranoia has its occasional virtues.

That was the day I learned that the only person I could really trust was myself. So I guess Carrie taught me something, after all.

Sighing, I lean against the wall, suddenly drained. The momentary burst of bravado fades as quickly as it came, leaving me feeling small and lost once more.

This isn't how it was supposed to be. I was supposed to be welcomed into my new pack with open arms. Cherished. Protected. Not cast aside like an afterthought.

Tears prick at the backs of my eyes and I blink them away furiously. No. I won't cry. Not again. Crying won't change anything. I need to be strong. To figure out my next move.

But what is my next move? It's not like I can leave. I'm bound to these alphas now, whether they want me or not. And even if I could...where would I go? Back to my family in disgrace?

The very thought makes my stomach heave. No. That's not an option. I'll die before I admit defeat.

I have to make this work somehow. I just...I don't know how.

Squaring my shoulders, I push off the wall and continue down the hall. First things first—I need to eat something. Keep my strength up, no matter how little of an appetite I have. Then I can worry about the rest.

One step at a time, Evie. You can do this. You have to.

Failure simply isn't an option.

I repeat the words like a mantra as I make my way to the dining room, each step measured and deliberate. The click of my heels against the polished hardwood echoes through the empty halls.

I pause in the doorway, surveying the grand space with a critical eye. The long mahogany table gleams in the morning light, set for one with a simple place setting. A far cry from the elaborate spreads I'm sure they put out when the alphas are here, but it will suffice.

I settle into the chair at the head of the table, the seat of power. My seat now, as lady of this house. At least while my alphas are gone.

Lifting the cloche, I reveal a plain bowl of oatmeal, a small dish of fruit, and a carafe of coffee. Hardly the stuff of kings. ButI suppose I should be grateful they bothered to feed me at all. Even if they had to be strongarmed into doing it.

I take a sip of the coffee, savoring the bitter bite on my tongue. It clears the fog from my head, sharpens my focus. I need to think. To plan.

The alphas may have rejected me, but I refuse to slink away and lick my wounds in solitude. That's what they'd love. For me to accept their rejection and fade into the stone walls of this place, to be invisible. Comfortable. I am the omega of the Blackwood pack, and I will take my rightful place, whether they like it or not.

A soft knock at the door interrupts my musings. Ellen enters, her expression pinched as she takes in the sight of me at the head of the table. "Do you need anything else, Miss Beaumont?"

"Blackwood," I correct her again, setting down my coffee cup with a deliberate clink. "And yes, actually. What are the dinner plans for this evening?"

Ellen blinks, clearly taken aback by the question. She's used to running this place. To being the woman in charge, but she's about to learn to endure a very different reality, just as I have to.

"The chef has a menu prepared. Salmon, I believe, with?—"

"Cancel it." I cut her off with a wave of my hand. "There will be roast lamb tonight. And a proper spread to complement it. I'll see to the lamb myself."

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