The Alpha's True Love

Yellow Feathers

After taking another quick shower, with Julian, I hurried to get ready for work. He'd shared with me what they'd discovered in the woods. It made my stomach turn to think about. When Julian told me about the missing ring, my heart hurt even more. The poor girl had had a life ahead of her, and someone who cared about her. Now that was all gone. 

Before leaving for work, I'd given Julian a searing kiss on the mouth, making sure he knew I'd forgiven him. We still weren't done with our argument though. We needed to discuss the communication thing. But I let it go for the time being. My drive to my first client's home uneventful. As I drove, I though more about the dead girl. What if it'd been Amanda? I know Julian said it was a rogue who'd killed her, and he'd mentioned the possibility of her attacker possibly being a lover or significant other. I shivered, imagining how close Amanda could've come to a similar fate. Her "lover" was anything but. Amanda was still having a hard time with the whole situation. He hadn't called once since she went to the hospital and came home with me. Deep down, I think she was realizing how little he actually cared for her. Alternatively, Dominic was throwing her for a loop. Me too if I'm being honest. On the outside, he could easily be a big, ugly (I use that metaphorically because he is a hunk) brute. But when Amanda was involved, and even people she considered friends, he seemed to quell that side of him. He was willing to do anything to get her to fall for him. But she wasn't budging. In my last conversation with her, she'd been adamant that she was not getting in a relationship anytime soon. And she was toying with the possibility of moving. Finding somewhere new to start over. I did my best to help her work through the pros and cons, but it was clear to me that the biggest hurdle standing in her way would be Dominic. He was not going to like it if and when she told him she was moving anywhere BUT his packlands. I was dreading the fallout from that conversation.

My session with my first client went well. I could see they were improving immensely and would most likely no longer need my help after another two or three sessions. I visited two more clients before making the short drive to my last client of the day. Mr. Macciata.

I pulled over to the curb and parked. I winged a silent prayer to the clouds that Mr. Macciata would behave today. My vacation from work had been relatively peaceful and spent in marital bliss. I don't want that feeling to be harshly ended by a miserable SOB with wandering hands. Julian would flip if he continued to smell the man on me anymore.

Grabbing my bag, I got out of the car and walked up to the front door. I knocked loudly and waited. I could hear footsteps creaking across the floor on the other side, then the sound of locks being undone and the door opened to reveal Mr. Macciata in a stained white undershirt, frayed navy slacks and a cigar in hand. He grunted at me as he stood aside to let me pass. I held my breath as I shuffled by him; he conveniently blew out a puff of smoke as I did so. Asshole.

"Long time no see, sweet ti-"

"Good afternoon Mr. Macciata," I interrupted, setting my bag down with a thud. I left my jacket on but hung my keys on the hook by the door and put my phone in my pocket. "Let's get started shall we?" I turned to look at him, clasping my hands in front of me expectantly.

He eyed me as he shut the door, taking a deep drag on his cigar. "An eager beaver today aren't we?"

I pursed my lips. He gestured for me to follow him to the kitchen. As we passed by the closet, the smell of his house finally penetrated my awareness. Either I'd been away from his house long enough to forget the smell, or it'd gotten worse since I'd been gone. It was a rotten smell. That, in combination with the acrid smell of smoke and sticky sweet alcohol bottles left out, made it hard to breath. 

"Have a seat," Mr. Macciata ground out. 

I swallowed, noticing the usual mess on his kitchen table had grown. There were more beer cans and newspapers. Strangely, most of the papers were the obituaries. I frowned. Did someone he know die?