Page 17 of Wolf Fated
"Go away," I mumbled.
"Don't be like that, Brook." Drake pushed open the door and strode over to the bed.
I sat up, debating throwing my pillow at him, when he set a silver tray with all kinds of breakfast pastries between us.
"Hungry?" He grinned. "Since you didn't eat dinner last night, I thought you might want something."
"Thanks, I am famished." I chose a cherry, cream-cheese Danish, and bit into the icy goodness. "Hmmm... this is amazing. Where did you pick these up from?"
"These aren't store-bought, I made them from scratch." Drake pulled two bottles of water from his jacket pockets and set them on the nightstand beside the bed.
"Shut up." I took another bite. "No freaking way."
His smile brought out two dimples I hadn't noticed before. "If you're good, I might share the recipe with you."
I gestured to the pile of baked goods. "Aren't you and the others going to eat too?"
"Nah, we ate earlier."
"God." I rolled my eyes. "Don't tell me you three are morning people." Occasionally, I had customers like that who would practically bubble when the sun came up. They were so chipper and awake that it gave me a headache. Which was why I always asked for the nightshift. Staying up late was my jam. Except when staying at a strange mansion with wolves outside.
He chuckled. "Let's just say we don't need as much sleep as some people."
"Oh, I wish. I would love to be able to get three to five hours of sleep and be able to function. I'm usually a nine-hour gal." I'd be able to catch up on all my favorite romances if I only had to sleep half the time. "Hell, I could even take a college course on the side. Always wanted to study something fancy like bio-chemistry or shit."
"Then why don't you?"
He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world to drop everything and go to school. And why not? The guy was loaded and from what I could tell, their jobs allowed them to do whatever the fuck they wanted.
"Um." I chewed my food. "It's not that easy. Some of us have twelve and fifteen-hour jobs to barely scrape by."
"Quite. Have Stephen support you and go to school full-time."
I choked on the Danish, coughing. He handed me a bottled water and I nodded my head in thanks. The water was cool as it slid down my throat. When my coughing eased, I wiped my mouth with one of the paper napkins on the tray.
Drake’s eyes darkened, then he shook his head. "Right. I don't know anything about you or your life aside from the bare minimum. I've no right to judge." He reached out, taking my hand, and pulling it up to his lips. His lips were velvet soft against my knuckles. "Forgive me for making assumptions. Enjoy your food. The seamstress should be here with the first delivery of clothes for you to try on."
Where he kissed my hand tingled, but before I could think more about it or his words, he left and closed the door behind him.
10
Since I couldn't hide in the bedroom forever, I forced myself to finish one of the Danishes and took a shower instead of the leisurely bath like I wanted. Best to get this over with and find out exactly what I was doing here and what they wanted from me.
The closet, with all the clothes and shoes in my size, made me both giddy and break out in a cold sweat on the back of my neck. Had Stephen given them my measurements? I didn't think he paid attention enough to know what sizes I wore. He'd never asked, and I'd never told him, but he had never given me anything to wear except my engagement ring. I twisted the ring on my finger now as I debated what to wear. They'd said a seamstress was coming— which often I had to have my clothes adjusted as they were either too short or too baggy for my lengthy frame. But many of these looked like they'd fit me without too much trouble.
I tried on a pair of underwear and a bra. Aside from some gapping around the top of the cups, the fit was okay.
I eyed the jeans, but those were notorious for fitting oddly. Often, I had to try on fifteen different styles and a couple of different sizes to get decent ones. Instead, I chose a pair of black slacks that hit me just above the anklebone. Not ideal, but not bad. Then I picked out a button-down peach-colored shirt. The long sleeves were way too short, and I rolled them up to my forearm.
Feeling better that I was dressed, I opened the door to go downstairs when a woman with her hair in a dark bun blocked my path. She wore a measuring tape like a necklace and dressed in a designer suit with pins sticking out of it.
"Oh, you are Brook?" she asked in a faint French accent.
"Yes. Who are you?"
"Isn't it obvious?" She smiled and came into the room. Drake and Nathan trailed in behind her carrying armfuls of various fabrics. "Set them on the bed, gentlemen."
"I know you're the tailor, but I don't know your name." I tried again.
