Daddy's Little Brat: The Alpha's Temptress

07|Woman under the table

Eleanor pov

My gaze was vacant as I sat on the bed, my breathing slow and steady. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock.

Soft.

Slow.

Relentless.

As if it were quietly mocking me, one second passed, then another in utter silence and then–

Knock. Knock.

The soft sound came from the other side of the door, pulling me out of my daze. My eyes shifted toward it, cold, empty, yet I neither moved nor spoke.

I simply watched.

The door creaked open slowly, and a young girl stepped in. She was dressed in blue, her head lowered. At first glance, she looked no older than fifteen or sixteen.

She closed the door carefully behind her before speaking.

“This servant offers her greetings.” Her voice was quiet. Respectful.

I didn’t respond.

Another second passed in complete silence, and just as the clock ticked again, she finally lifted her head, her eyes met mine and the moment they did, she drew in a sharp breath, her gaze flickering over me in something close to recognition before she swallowed hard and spoke.

“This servant’s name is Cecilia, and the master has ordered me to be your personal attendant from now on. Please allow me to assist you with your bath. Dinner has been prepared, and you will eat with master, where he said the second phase of the lesson will begin.”

She said it all in one breath, her eyes lowered the entire time. At her words, my mind drifted back to him.

To the devil from twenty minutes ago.

The way he had spoken.

The way he had touched me.

The way my body had betrayed me under his hands.

And those last words—

“Use this… not this.”

A sharp breath slipped past my lips and my hands clenched at my sides, nails pressing into my palms as my gaze hardened, something shifting behind my eyes as I forced myself to regain my focus.

I drew in a slow breath, then another, before finally pushing myself to my feet, my spine straightened, my chin lifted slightly.

I nodded once, firm, parting my lips as I spoke.

“My name is…”

I paused for the briefest second.

Then without hesitation—

“Delilah.”

The name rolled off my tongue smoothly. Easily. Like it had always belonged to me.

The name he had given me.

Cecilia’s lips curved into a small, respectful smile as she lowered her head again. “Greetings, Madam Delilah.” She hesitated slightly before stepping closer.

“May I?”

I gave a small nod.

“Yes.”

She moved carefully, her steps light as she approached me. Her hands were gentle as they reached for the zipper of my dress, slowly pulling it down.

The fabric loosened and slipped from my shoulders, falling silently to my feet. She worked efficiently, unclipping my bra without a word, her expression unchanged, calm, practiced, like this was nothing new to her.

I didn’t react or move. My eyes shifted instead to the mirror standing just beside us, my reflection stared back at me.

Red hair.

Green eyes.

Full lips.

A face many would call beautiful.

Gorgeous, even.

Just like my twin and yet, there was something off, something cold. My expression was hard, almost too still, unsmiling and unapproachable.

My gaze lowered slightly as Cecilia continued, pulling the last piece of fabric away, my body reflected back at me, curves in the right places.

Full. Defined. Strong but not perfect.

Never perfect.

Scars stretched across my skin, each one a memory of battles fought, of blood shed, of loyalty given to the pack, to my family.

To him.

People who had once meant everything to me, people to whom, I had meant nothing.

My head tilted slightly as I stared at myself, different thoughts swirling in my head but the next second, beside me, Cecilia stepped back, her posture straight as she gestured toward the door, her head lowering once more.

“This way, Madam.”

My eyes shifted to her.

Then, without a word, I turned.

Stepping forward, I walked toward the bathroom, my expression unchanged as I crossed the threshold.

***

My eyes stayed glued to the door before me as I stood right in front of it.

After the bath, Cecilia had helped me into a blue dress, exactly my size, like it had been made for me. It hugged my figure perfectly, soft fabric tracing my waist, a slit at the side revealing a line of thigh with every step.

I didn’t wear things like this. Not usually but I said nothing.

Cecilia lowered her head and opened the door for me. I took a slow breath, lifted my chin and stepped out.

One step. Then another. Light, controlled.

My heels clicked softly against the polished floor as I moved through the hallway like I already knew the layout.

Which I did.

I had been here three times, after all. The first time, I had been surprised.

Wealth didn’t even feel like the right word for it. The packhouse was nothing compared to this. Even the Alpha’s wealth, even everything Ethan controlled as pack leader… it didn’t come close. Not even in the slightest.

Alexander didn’t live in the Bloodtorn pack. He lived outside it, an unclaimed territory deep in the forest that automatically belonged to him, that no one dared to take, no one even tried and at its center stood his mansion.

A towering structure of black stone and glass, rising above the treeline like it owned the sky itself. Inside, chandeliers hung high, casting golden light across marble floors that reflected every step.

Everything here screamed power, not the loud kind Ethan ruled with.

The kind that didn’t need to announce itself.

Maybe that was why he had always been cautious and scared of Alexander because if that man ever decided to take the Alpha position…nothing and no one could stop him.

As I walked, women in maid outfits stood in precise formation along the corridor. Perfect posture. Blank expressions. Hands folded neatly in front of them.

All of them lowered their heads as I passed, their stance cold and controlled, observing without looking like they were. Cecilia followed silently behind me.

I didn’t need to look twice to know they weren’t ordinary servants, they were dangerous. Alexander’s trained assassins.

I knew because I had fought them before.

The first time I came here to kill him.

They had moved with great strength, speed and intensity. Even if they weren’t stronger than me individually, it had been obvious from the start…they were trained to kill.

And only one person could train something like that.

Alexander.

As I moved forward, their gazes followed me with warriness but I didn’t look at them again, I simply stopped at the top of the staircase and looked down.

There he was.

Alexander.

Seated like he owned every inch of the world beneath him.

His back was slightly reclined against the chair, one arm resting lazily as he swirled a glass of wine between his fingers, the movement was slow, almost absentminded.

He had changed into a black silk shirt, and black matching trousers.

From here, I couldn’t even see his face properly, just the tilt of his head, the faint curve of his mouth like he already knew I was there.

Like he had been waiting.

My fingers tightened slightly at my side.

Second lesson.

The image from earlier flickered into my mind, sending heat straight to my spine, however, I exhaled slowly, forcing my expression steady, then started down the stairs.

My heels echoed through the silence, behind me, Cecilia stopped at the top.

At the bottom, an elderly man in a clean suit stood waiting. He lowered his head immediately as I reached the final step.

“Good evening, Madam Delilah,” he said respectfully. “My name is Butler Edward. Please, this way.”

I gave a small nod and followed him.

He led me to the table. Past Alexander, I didn’t look at him even once but I felt it.

His gaze.

Heavy, unmoving, locked on me like I was the only thing in the room worth watching.

Edward pulled out my chair and I sat.

He tucked it in carefully, bowed again, and walked away without a sound and just like that it was only us.

Silence stretched across the dining hall, the tension in the air threatening to snap as I finally lifted my head and looked at him.

He was already watching me.

That same lazy smile still on his lips, wine glass lifted slightly as if he had been waiting but then my gaze shifted.

Just slightly.

Under the table and I froze.

Hidden partly by the long cloth draping the table was a woman.

On her knees.

Head moving in a steady, humiliating rhythm.

Soft, broken sounds barely slipped through the silence—choked breaths, faint gasps, the kind of sound that didn’t belong in a dining room.

My breath caught before I could stop it.

My eyes snapped back up to him instantly.

Alexander’s grin widened.

Slow. Deliberate.

Like he had been waiting for that exact reaction.

He took a slow sip of his wine, unbothered, unhurried, then set the glass down with a soft clink.

His voice followed, low, rich, amused.

“Well,” he murmured, leaning back slightly as his gaze dragged over me with unfiltered lust in his gaze as he hummed “don’t you look stunning in blue, Miss Delilah.”