The Alpha's Protective Mate

29

Charlotte Sanguinite

Clearing my throat, I begin walking back to the cupcake display, my heartbeat unsteady. Jazz trails after me. “So what if he’s some crazy rich guy? He’s clearly head over heels for you! That’s gotta count for something.”

I open the display and start setting up the cupcakes. “I want a simple, peaceful life, Jazz. Robert Montgomery is the furthest thing from that kind of person.”

“He seems peaceful enough.” Jazz leans over the glass display case, watching me. “Besides, if a man looked at me like he was just looking at you, I’d be eating him up.”

“What?” I stare at her. “Eating what up? And I thought you had a boyfriend. Aren’t you and Marcus madly in love?”

“Yeah,” Jazz shrugs. “But Marcus is a boy. Robert is a man. A much older man.” Her brows wiggle. “More experienced, more willing to spoil you, more—”

“So, you want me to make him my sugar daddy?” I gape at her, unable to follow her train of thought.

She rolls her eyes at me. “You don’t have a single romantic bone in your body, Charlotte. I meant that older men know what they want. They’re looking to settle down in life, and when a man looks at you the way Robert does, he’ll put the whole world at your feet if you just ask.”

I close the display case and get to my feet. “You, Jazz, read too much into how he looks at me. The man has ‘trouble’ written all over him. I don’t play with trouble. Trouble needs to keep a ten-foot distance from me or get tased.”

My friend scoffs. “Like you would tase Robert. I saw the way your cheeks were all red. He’s not the only one who’s got the hots.”

I can’t really argue with that, so as I fix the disposable cup stand, I say, tightly, “It’s complicated, Jazz. And shouldn’t you worry about your own relationship? I haven’t seen Marcus for a few days now.”

Jazz’s expression darkens. “Neither have I. Do you think Dad paid him off like they do in the movies? ‘Take this check for fifty thousand dollars, and stay away from my daughter!’“

She mimics her father, and I chuckle. “Somehow I find it hard to see your father giving anybody that amount of money.”

“True,” Jazz says ruefully. “He’s such a miser. I’m not worth fifty grand to him.”

“You’re priceless to him,” I remind her. “He dotes on you.”

Jazz makes a face. “He hates Marcus, though.”

I choose not to comment on that. I met Jazz after she started dating Marcus, but from my few random conversations with her father, it’s clear that Marcus is the reason Jazz changed her whole personality. I’m only a few years older than Jazz, but perhaps my life experiences were harsher, so I’m quite critical of her boyfriend. Not that I would say anything. Marcus does seem to like her, so at least there is that.

“Anyway,” Jazz changes the topic. “Shelby told me something was wrong with Mano. She’s been at the vet?”

The mention of my cat has me grinning. “Oh, yeah. She wasn’t eating that much, but her stomach was bloating, so I asked Ricky to take a look at her. I dropped her off at the shelter the other morning.”

Jazz studies my face. “I’m assuming it wasn’t bad news?”

I chuckle, still a little shocked by the surprising outcome. “Apparently, the little hussy went and got herself knocked up by my neighbor’s cat. I thought she was fixed. Ricky thought she was fixed. I don’t know what happened. She’s got little babies growing in her. He came by after work yesterday to let me know because my phone was off.”

Jazz’s lips part. “Wait! Mano’s having kittens?!”

“Yep.” I beam.

“Can I have one?”

“Sure.” I shrug. “If she doesn’t mind parting with one. I’m not making any promises. She’s very possessive. But if she doesn’t want to give up her babies, we have five newborn kittens at the shelter who will be up for adoption after two months. I can bring you pictures if you want.”

Jazz rests her chin on her palm. “That’s okay. I’ll come by myself after work sometime this week. I’ve never seen the shelter, so it’ll be nice to check it out.”

I glance at Jazz silently. Things must be really bad between her and Marcus for her to want to visit the shelter just to have something to do. Normally, she spends every waking minute outside of work with Marcus. I know not to pry. When she’s ready, she’ll talk about it. I doubt it’s as simple as Marcus just avoiding her.

Turning my attention back to the cups I’m setting up, I frown to myself. I shouldn’t be worrying about Jazz when I have a wolf Alpha chasing me.

I just don’t understand it.

There is nothing remotely appealing about me. That’s not to say that I consider myself ugly by any means. I simply don’t have anything that someone like Robert would be drawn to. If anything, I’m a workaholic. My hobbies are introverted. I keep to myself. I’m not exciting or interesting enough for anybody, especially a wolf Alpha, to pursue me.

So why does Robert want to date me? Why is he so adamant about uprooting this quiet, calm life that I have managed to build for myself?

I don’t understand his logic. I don’t understand his interest in me.

But I won’t bend to his will.

It doesn’t matter what I want or how I feel. I have to use my head, not my heart.

Besides—a soft smile forms on my lips—I’m going to have my hands full with Mano and her little babies soon enough. I won’t have time to think about the blue-eyed Alpha with his charming smile.

******

Robert waits a couple of days before he launches an attack.

And it’s not what I was expecting.

“Delivery for Charlotte Beaumont!”

I look up from where I’m preparing a latte for a customer. “That’s me. I’ll be right with you.”

Putting the lid on the coffee, I hand it over to the customer before rounding the counter toward the delivery man. “Yes?”

“Sign here, please.” He holds out a clipboard with a piece of paper on it.

“I don’t remember ordering anything,” I mutter as I make sure the name and address are correct. It doesn’t make sense that the delivery address is the cafe. I’ve never had anything delivered here. I have a post office box near my house where I pick up my packages.

However, the name and address are correct.

Reluctantly, I sign the slip.

The delivery man hands me a large package tied up in brown paper.

“What is it?” Shelby asks curiously.

“I don’t know,” I reply, confused. Putting the parcel on one of the unoccupied tables, I open it carefully. My eyes widen a moment later.

“No.”

“What is it, Charlotte?” Jazz is impatient and decides to look for herself. She makes a sound of disappointment. “Oh, it’s just books.”

I’m not listening to her, though. My blood is thundering in excitement.

“These are—How did these—”

I can’t even form a coherent sentence, just staring at the hardcover books. They are a fictional detective series from a foreign author who doesn’t sell his novels outside his country. I’ve only managed to read his books online, from no legitimate sources. I never dreamed I could ever own actual copies of his work, including his new releases.

“Are you crying?!” Jazz looks horrified.

“No,” I sniffle, feeling overwhelmed. A card slips from one of the books, and I lean down to pick it up. There is a crudely drawn wolf on one side, and the other side reads, “You mentioned your favorite author while you were drinking all that tea.”

I stare at the message, and incredulous laughter spills out of me.

I have a feeling Robert’s never going to stop reminding me of my mix-up with iced tea and the Long Island variety.

I don’t remember talking about the author. I must have been very drunk.

“Charlotte?” Jazz asks curiously, peeking over my shoulder to look at the note. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” I shake my head.

I should throw the card away, but when I hold it over the trash bin, my hand refuses to release it. Sighing, I tuck it back into one of the books.

Devious, devious man.

He knew exactly how to get under my skin.

If it had been flowers or chocolates or any of the normal gifts guys send, it would have been easier to be unaffected. This is much harder. It’s as if he reached inside me, took a small desire that I never had any hopes of achieving, and turned it into a beautiful reality.

“Jerk,” I mumble to myself.

As I hurry to the back room, hugging my precious bounty to my chest, I hear Jazz say, “Who gets that excited over books?”

I put the novels in my bag and close my locker before smiling giddily. I can’t wait to get home and look at them again.

The day can’t end fast enough for me, and as evening falls, Gina reminds me, “You have to lock up today.”

I close my eyes. Damn it.

Locking up alone means more work.

Unfortunately, this is my job, and I can’t exactly say no. I flip the closed sign once the hours are up and begin putting the chairs on the tables. Gina was kind enough to prepare the mop water for me today; I quickly clean the floor, then go into the bathroom to drain the bucket. After washing it, I put it in the small storage room we have in the back for cleaning supplies. As I’m about to close the door of the storage room, I hear a sound coming from outside.

Frowning, I take off my rubber gloves and make my way to the front of the cafe.

A woman is standing there, near the counter, her back to me.

“I’m sorry,” I begin. “We’re closed.”

Two things happen at the same time: I see the way the front door lock has been broken, and the cold energy that can only belong to a vampire reaches me.

I freeze.

This is not good.

The woman slowly turns, and I recognize her almost instantly. My blood runs cold.