Chapter 3
three
Morgan
I decide not to fight Alex on getting the rest of my stuff packed up, because truthfully, there's no way I could have done it on my own anyway.
I end up trashing most of my furniture that I bought second hand, nothing worth taking other than my clothes and a few personal items. The truck is far too big for how many boxes I end up putting in it, but that's okay, it's more annoying for him, so I'm into it.
I guess I can also be into the free meal when he pulls into a steak house for lunch, and begrudgingly, I’m into the room he shows me to when we finally get done for the day.
I’m very into the lock on the door.
The house is as nice as I was expecting it to be, and I hate that I have to rely on somebody else for my basic needs right now, but if I peel back all the irritation at how pushy this guy is, I’m grateful for what he’s providing for me; a home that is much nicer than what I’m used to, an actual desk I can put my old sewing machine on, and a closet bigger than I need that makes organizing my upcycled fabrics all the easier to do.
I know I’m being more difficult than necessary, but would it kill the guy to just apologize for being so heavy handed? I know finding your fated mate is supposed to be a big deal, but he hasn’t given me a single decision to make since we realized who we are to each other.
I do not want to be trapped in a relationship where I’m somebody else’s property and have no way of taking care of myself should I need to. I’ve been on my own for too long to so easily hand over the reins.
A knock on my new bedroom door has me bracing myself for yet another confrontation.
Surely, we would be less annoyed by each other if we were actually meant to be together?
But it’s not like he’s made a single move to actually be with me since we met.
He’s been overbearing and assumptive, but hasn’t actually tried to be a mate, so maybe he’s not actually looking for that, either.
Maybe this is all just about control for him.
“Yeah?”
“I wanted you to come meet my cook so you can talk to each other about what kitchen duties she’ll want you to take care of.”
Remember the paycheck, Morgan. “Okay, no problem.”
He seems confused when I don’t fight him on that, but I shrug because if I’m going to just be his employee, then it makes sense to meet my coworkers.
He leads me down the hall, getting closer and closer to all the incredible smells I was picking up earlier.
He doesn’t make any sounds as he approaches his cook; she senses him and turns to him automatically, a smile on her face and ready to serve him. Fuck. Hope he’s not expecting that behavior from me. Why do I get a thrill out of her smile faltering when she sees me? Explain, please.
“Rayna, this is the woman I told you about, she’ll be keeping the house clean.”
I extend a hand to the very put together woman that’s also intimidating as fuck, wearing a fucking cocktail dress and heels to cook in. She might have even more disdain for me than Ellie. Great, it’s a trend. Maybe they’ll have meetings and talk shit about me.
She touches my hand the least amount she can get away with while still calling it a handshake. “Charmed,” she drawls, running her eyes over my ratty clothes with disgust.
“I know you don’t like other people in the kitchen with you when you’re cooking, so just go over your schedule with Morgan, would you?
Let her know your expectations so we can all get along,” Alex says with a wink.
He spins around and heads the opposite direction to do who knows what, leaving me standing there with a woman that I’m fairly sure doesn’t like me.
“For starters, I’m not cooking for you. My schedule is taped to the side of the fridge, and if you can read, it will tell you which hours I’ll be in here.
I’m also not responsible for buying groceries for you.
Whatever you want ordered you’ll have to get yourself.
On your own time. Just make sure you remember to put your clothes back on when you leave the house,” she says with a hair flip and a clear dismissal.
Right.
Well.
I have a stipend for clothes to wear while working, but I know my sizes better than anybody and have perfected the art of making undergarments.
Thankfully, the contract only requires me to wear a bra and some sort of skirt that’s somewhere above the knee, not be completely bare on top like I was afraid of.
I have no idea what Alex did about housekeeping before he kidnapped me, but he has a killer laundry room that I made sure to put to use immediately, giddy as all get out (not that I let him know) that I won’t have to lug my laundry to the public laundromat anymore.
After I pull my stuff from the dryer, it’s time to take stock of what I’ve got to work with, and what I want to supplement my wardrobe with, and it will take a solid hour to put together a new set of undergarments, but if I’m expected to clean in them, I’m using the fabrics that I know are comfortable.
Who cares if they’re upcycled sheets? Not me, I’ll tell you what.
When I don’t show up for dinner, Alex comes to find me to question why I’m not down there with him.
“I was informed that Rayna only cooks for you and that I am responsible for my own food. So, seeing as you threw away the items in my cupboards earlier and I haven’t had a chance to take myself to the store yet, food is going to have to wait a bit.”
“Get your ass downstairs. You’re eating with me.”
Ah, another caveman moment, brought to you by Alex.
He throws me over his shoulder for the second time that day to carry me back down to the massive dining room, stopping a pissed-off Rayna mid-bite as I wave at her. She raises her eyebrow at Alex’s over-the-top antics and then continues to watch as he puts me in a seat.
“Go grab her a plate, would you Rayna? Thanks, doll.”
She clearly thinks they're having a nice dinner together, but he's under a completely different impression, I see.
“I only made enough for two.” Rayna goes right back to eating, and I swear to you this man is half a second away from taking her plate away so I can have it.
Desperate to break the tension, I try to get out of this. “Wouldn't be the first time I've missed dinner. Promise I'll be fine.”
Alex is looking at me very seriously, and I know it must be killing him to not start lecturing me about something, but instead, he pushes his plate to me, and then calmly gets up and goes to the kitchen.
The fridge opens and closes, so does the cabinet, and then he's pouring himself a bowl of cereal at the dinner table next to us.
“Alex, you're being ridiculous. I made you a wonderful meal, you cannot tell me you'd rather eat cereal,” Rayna says with pure venom. Aimed at me, obviously. Why blame the man?
“Morgan is a part of this household now.
I pay you to cook for me, do I not? Would it have killed you to make enough for three people?
I paid for the ingredients. I'm paying for your time.
I'm paying for your boarding here. Is making one more plate too much of an ask?” Alex asks very calmly but sternly.
And then he glares at me, not moving, breathing, or blinking until I take a bite of his food.
So maybe it's the best roasted chicken I've ever had, but I will never admit that out loud. When I give in and have a mini ‘gasm in my mouth, forcibly shutting my eyes, he nods and goes back to his cereal.
“She's just a maid. Last I heard, they don't eat with us.”
“Did you forget you’re the help as well? Please go finish your meal in the kitchen. Your sour attitude is affecting the taste of my cereal.”
I'm immensely enjoying this, but I dare not show it on my face.
Rayna’s mouth drops open. “You cannot be serious. What's so special about her? None of the other maids have ever eaten at the table with us.”
He sets down his spoon, wipes the corner of his mouth off with a napkin and puts his shoulders back. “And none of my other cooks have eaten dinner with me and my companion. I don't wish to give you any more warnings. If you cannot follow instructions, I will find somebody who can.”
Rayna scoots her chair back incredibly noisily, visibly shaking with anger as she grabs her glass of wine and carries it to the kitchen. Stomps, actually. Cute.
Once she's gone, I feel comfortable enough to speak again. “You don’t have to go through so much trouble for me.”
“Morgan, I do not do things that I do not wish to do.
I know you must be in some sort of shock because you just met me, but I can only be patient for so long.
I suggest you figure out quickly what it is you want from me.
If you do not wish to be mated to me, if you'd rather just live here as nothing but the help, that is up to you.
But do not mistake my thoughtfulness, as weakness.
I have not informed Rayna of what we are to each other, because you haven't given me any hint that that's what you want. So for now, I can hold off.”
My stomach is all twisty now, making it hard to want to eat any more.
“And what if I'm not good enough for you?
Rayna thinks it. I feel like your sister thinks it.
I'm pretty sure you would, too if you looked deep enough.
Thank you for dinner, but I'd best be going to bed. I want to be well rested for my first day of work tomorrow. Have a good evening.”
I don't feel great walking away from him after that conversation and my wolf is beating at me to go back and accept him and work our frustrations out on him.
I have to be smarter than that, though. The second I give myself over to him, I'm trapped.
I don't know what kind of man he is, and I intend to find out before I do something that can't be taken back.
Still think he’s a creep for offering me this job, fated mate or not.