After Six Years The Alpha Begs For My Return Chapter 11
“You don’t get to decide what’s enough, Mr. Locke.” I bit down on the title. “Control your contract mate and keep her from arranging my life again. I’m busy. I don’t have time to play happy families with all of you.”
Then I turned to Reese. “Let’s go upstairs. I want to see my mother.”
He looked down at me once. His hand shifted from my waist to my shoulder, maintaining the public posture of protection.
Behind me, I heard Ophelia’s suppressed sobs, Gideon’s low voice trying to soothe her, the sharp tap of my grandfather’s cane, and Franklin’s furious reprimands.
I didn’t look back.
The moment the elevator doors closed, Reese let go and stepped half a pace away. The cool, fir-and-leather scent of a high-ranking Alpha receded with him.
“Done with the show?” he asked lazily, his voice nothing like it had been downstairs.
“Done.” I leaned against the elevator wall, suddenly feeling drained. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. You owe me dinner.” He pulled an unlit cigarette from his pocket and put it between his lips. “That adopted sister of yours is a better actress than you are.”
The comment drew a ghost of a smile from me before it vanished.
“The way Gideon looks at you,” Reese said suddenly, “he doesn’t look like a man who’s let go.”
The elevator chimed, the doors opening on the nineteenth floor.
I walked out first, and I didn’t answer him.
My mother was awake.
She was propped up against the headboard, the oxygen mask gone. Her face was still sallow, but her eyes held more life than they had yesterday.