Page 38 of Cruel Alpha: Season Two

I’m not sure what to make of her, but I would’ve picked up on her air of authority even if I hadn’t just been informed that she and Cas share a last name.

“We’ll give you some privacy,” Tabatha whispers, then the next moment, she and Guinevere exit with a curtsy, leaving me to dine alone with a stranger.

I walk to the chair Penelope gestured toward, then I sit, questioning just how uncomfortable this meal will be as I reach for a plate.

“My apologies for disturbing your breakfast.”

She waves me off with a demure grin. “Please, coffee is hardly breakfast. Besides, you have no reason to apologize. This is moreyourhome than it is mine.”

I offer a gracious nod as I select a muffin from the stack in the middle of the table.

“I’ve been watching you,” she says, and I do a doubletake as I grab a strip of bacon next.

“Y-you have?” I ask, sounding small. But with the power she exudes, I’m uncomfortably aware of the misstep. It won’t happen again.

Penelope nods. “I have. By way of the media, of course. Seeing as how it’s been years since I’ve received a formal invitation onto the property.”

I get the feeling sheshouldbe bitter about that, but she sounds more amused than anything.

“The most recent highlight I read focused on your curiously abrupt exit from the Spring Ball. There’s been quite a bit of speculation as to what transpired between you and my nephew that night.”

I make a mental note of the familial connection, also feeling a bit embarrassed that she—like the rest of the clan—witnessed such an emotionally charged moment.

“I—we…”

A laugh leaves her as she drops a cube of sugar into her coffee. “Relax, dear. I’m no stranger to the men in this family being intolerable bastards. Which is why I’m certain you had your reasons.”

My heart settles with her words, and I’m surprised by how genuine they feel.

“Tell me, how are you enjoying life here in the estate?”

So many thoughts flutter into my head, but I weed them out, remembering I’m speaking to a member of the alpha’s family.

“Well, the staff is friendly. I can’t think of a single thing I want or need that hasn’t been provided for me.”

I finish speaking and Penelope stares, not saying a word for several seconds.

“Hm. What a poised and proper response,” she says, tilting her head as that look in her eyes intensifies. It’s in that moment that I see the resemblance between she and Cas. “Now, I’d like to hear yourrealanswer.”

The request catches me off guard, and my brow quirks. “I beg your pardon?”

“You spoke as though my nephew were in the room, looming over your shoulder. Now, I want to hear yourtruethoughts. The ones that make you toss and turn at night. The ones that prompted you to storm out of the room during the Spring Ball.”

My heart races again and those thoughts I’d quenched before have returned. Her gaze stays trained on me while I think, feeling tempted to tell someone in her position, someone with herpower, exactly how this godawful place makes me feel.

But that doesn’t feel safe. For all I know, this is a trap and?—

“Whatever you’re thinking, whatever has you so tightly wound that you’re about to melt that fork you’re squeezing, it isn’t real,” she says. “Despite my last name and whatever assumptions you’ve made about me,noneof it’s real. We’re just two women, enjoying one another’s company on this lovely morning.”

She smiles a bit as she sips more coffee.

I loosen my grip on the fork when her eyes flit toward it again, and she isn’t wrong. Iamtightly wound. Like a thread on the verge of snapping. Her gaze settles on me again, and I get the feeling she isn’t a woman who easily accepts ‘no’ as an answer, so I’m compelled to speak.

The truth, this time.

“It’s… suffocating here. Sometimes, I literally feel like I’m unable to breathe,” I admit, and I feel overwhelmingly anxious. “The staff is kind, yes, but… that’s the extent of it. I have the freedom to come and go as I please, but it’s more like anillusionof freedom. When I’m not being used as a pawn, I’m being dressed up like a doll, and then I’m placed on display at whatever gala is on the event schedule that week. Like some unfeeling, unintelligent, inanimate…thing.Then, on top of that, there’s always someone telling me what to wear, or where to be, orhowto be. And the worst part is that I have no fucking voice! I’m just supposed to accept any and every situation that’s dumped into my lap, and it’s just all very… exhausting.”

Penelope nods slowly, and I can’t believe I’ve just said so much. She’s probably reading between the lines, understanding that my last statement has everything to do with the women her nephew intends to bring into this house.

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