Chapter 79

I've never thought of myself as a particularly materialistic person, as I've said before, but my god there sure are some things to appreciate about living in the Alpha's mansion.

For one thing, my suite of rooms is absolutely gorgeous. I love my villa and would never want to give it up, but I can definitely appreciate the accommodations here, too.

My bed is gigantic, for one thing. Plus, the mattress is down, making it the softest bed I've ever slept in. And the curtains on the four poster are yet another bonus - I feel like I'm living out a childhood fairy princess dream every time I go to bed.

The bedroom also boasts a walk-in closet, which houses everything I had at home plus quite a few new outfits that Claire had selected and stocked for me. When I went to thank her, scolding her for doing far too much, she just gave me a grin.

The kitchenette is small but airy and light, with a good range of cookware and utensils. The fridge will be stocked twice a week for me, I'm told; all I have to do is leave a shopping list taped to the front, and a staff member will get whatever I ask for.

The living room is probably my favorite room in the suite; it's got that big fireplace, for one thing. Not especially useful in the summer, I admit, but it'll be amazing to light once the nights start getting cooler. If I'm still here, that is.

The living room itself is done in shades of blue and brass, with bookcases stuffed to the gills and antique knick-knacks scattered around. It's so fancy and literary, like living in Lord Byron's study, or something.

There's even a drinks cart, which is kept stocked with the best whiskey and gin that money can buy. And cheerful, hanging potted plants are artfully scattered around the walls - in all the rooms. Even the bathroom has a blue orchid perched on the windowsill.

And the bathroom is something else, too. Though on the smaller side, it's big enough for both a claw-footed bathtub I can really sink into plus a small shower with one of those overhead nozzles that douse you with hot water like you're standing in the rain.

All in all, I love it. It's perfect. If things in my life weren't so up in the air, I'd think I'd died and gone to heaven.

Not to mention how great it is to not have to drive to work anymore. I get 45 extra minutes of sleep every morning, and I have my first cup of coffee lounging on my antique divan in a silk dressing gown.

I could really get used to this, I think to myself one morning as I'm applying my lipstick in the bathroom mirror. I swan back into my bedroom, opening the luxurious closet and selecting a cream-colored skirt and a teal-colored silk shirt.

The full-length mirror on the back of the closet door is perfect for checking my outfit, which I do. Brown sandals complete the look, along with a pair of gold stud earrings that I found in the jewelry box that sits alongside other accessories.

My hair looks great, too, I think as I tousle it playfully, then smooth it out again. Andrea was right; it was getting too long, and the red was fading a little. I just hadn't noticed, what with everything else going on.

Maybe she's right - maybe I should keep the new style, if and when I'm finally able to come clean about my real identity.

I wouldn't mind going back to my real eye color, though, I think ruefully as I add a couple of eyedrops to each eye. The colored contacts can be a real pain in the ass on some days. But, all in all, it's better to be alive and well-hidden.

Which is another perk about living here, I have to admit. Marcus was right: I feel much safer than I ever did before. Anton stands guard over me every morning, from nine a.m. to nine p.m., and a second guard - Jesse - takes the night shift.

Jesse is a pretty quiet guy. He's from Brooklyn, a local dude, and he doesn't say much, though he's very friendly. He has deep, expressive brown eyes and skin so dark that it shines in the light.

His build really surprised me when we were introduced: he's very wiry, almost slender. I guess he could tell that I was a little dubious, because he gave me a quick grin and asked if I'd like to see a demonstration.

I did, of course, and said so. Marcus had grinned wickedly, exchanging a very boyish look of glee with Jesse, and they took me out onto the lawn for an impromptu wrestling match.

Let's put it this way: Marcus is the greatest werewolf soldier of his entire generation, and Jesse laid him out on his ass every single time. By the end of the "demonstration," I was laughing so hard I couldn't even stand upright, and Marcus's summer suit was ruined with grass stains.

Jesse did a playful little victory strut around the lawn, while Marcus laid on his back trying to get his breath. He looked up at me with twinkling laughter in his eyes.

"Only the best for you, Evelyn," he'd laughed, accepting my hand and letting me haul him back up.

I smile now at the memory, tucking my shirt more evenly into my skirt and leaving for my office, waving goodbye to Jesse as he went off shift and hello to Anton as he came on. Time to get to work.

"Ev, you have a phone call," Claire says when I answer my ringing office phone late that morning. "She obviously didn't know your extension, so called the main house. Somebody named Becki?"

I sigh, resisting the urge to grind my palms into my eyes in exasperation. What now?

What now is that Becki wants to get lunch and "talk some things over." God knows what she's gotten herself into now, but this is supposed to be part of my job, talking to her and getting a sense of what's going on at home.

I make a reservation for us at one and head out shortly after, Anton driving for me.

"Who is this handsome guy?" Becki twitters as I get to our table, batting her lashes at Anton. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Anton says nothing, only nods at me and then takes a separate table where he can keep an eye on the whole restaurant at once.

"Anton," I say. "My bodyguard. Standard protocol for anyone dating one of the Alpha children, or at least that's what I'm told."

A sour look slips briefly over Becki's face, but she smoothes it away as quickly as she can.

"How romantic," she says, obviously making a stab at sounding sincere and only falling slightly short. I smile at her blandly and open my menu, scanning the specials.

"So, I've obviously called you here for a reason," Becki says after we place our orders. I take a drink of my iced tea and wait patiently for her to continue.

"It's just –" Becki's eyes well with tears, and she starts to sniffle and whimper. Oh, boy. Here we go. I'm no stranger to Becki's little sob-fests of self-pity, and I've never enjoyed them. I doubt that's about to change now.

"It's just that, it's so difficult to keep up!" Becki wails, dabbing her eyes with her napkin. "All these society ladies, I mean. The money they spend, Evelyn. You wouldn't believe it. I'm trying to keep up, but I just can't. My mom says she's going to cancel my credit card if I keep it up, but how else am I going to get ahead?"

I murmur out a few expressions of sympathy and sneak a peek at Anton to see if he's listening. He is, I can tell. It looks like he's trying not to laugh.

We talk for the rest of the lunch - or, rather, Becki blabbers, and I listen. It's so difficult to be her. She's going to get cut off pretty soon. She got the wrong color designer bag for the summer soiree, and she was just sure everyone there was laughing at her.

And on, and on, and on.

By the time we leave, Becki's eyeliner is smeared and her hair looks slightly frizzy. I continue to murmur assurances to her as I escort her to her car, and wave at her as she drives away until she rounds a corner.

Then I slump against the side of the restaurant building and laugh harder than I've laughed in months.