Chapter 3: What are you doing here?

“Mira?”

She pulled back, looking at me like I’d just grown a second head. “Yeah. You were out cold. We’ve been here for five minutes already. Dad carried your suitcase up because you wouldn’t wake up.”

I blinked twice, my eyes adjusting to the light.

So it was all just a dream.

And a huge part of me wanted it to be real.

My eyes scanned the place and that's when I realized it was the underground garage of the Ashworth building.

I scrambled out, my legs unsteady. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Mira shrugged and headed for the elevator. “Whatever. Come on. The penthouse is already unlocked.”

The ride up was quiet. Every time I closed my eyes I still saw Reynolds above me, his golden-hazel eyes dark with hunger, his voice rough as he told me who I belonged to.

I pressed my thighs together and forced the memory down.

It had only been a dream. Nothing more.

The elevator opened directly into the penthouse.

I’d been here a handful of times over the years for pack parties, but never like this.

Never with the knowledge that I would be living under the same roof as Reynolds for two full months.

They were floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city, with dark hardwood floors.

The living space was the kind that looked more like a luxury hotel than a home.

Mira was already halfway down the hall. “Your room is the second one on the left. Mine’s across from it. Dad’s is at the end. Don’t go wandering into his wing unless you want to get your head bitten off.”

I nodded and followed her, dragging my suitcase behind me.

The guest room was bigger than my entire dorm. A wide bed with white linens faced the floor to ceiling windows.

An attached bathroom was at the side of the room. I set my bag down and just stood there for a moment.

Mira leaned against the doorframe, already scrolling on her phone again. “By the way, I’m throwing a party tomorrow night. You’re going. No excuses.”

I looked up from the suitcase. “A party? Already?”

“Yes. Already.” She didn’t even glance at me. “Half the pack’s younger crowd is coming, plus some people from the city. It’s summer. We’re celebrating. And you’re not going to sit in this room like a ghost the whole time. You’re coming. End of discussion.”

The idea of being around a crowd of pack members who just saw me as an Omega, made my stomach twist.

But the idea of arguing with Mira didn't seem like an option either.

I just nodded and turned back to unpacking.

“Good,” she said, satisfied. “I’m going to shower and change. Dad’s handling some pack business in his office. Don’t bother him, if you want anything you can meet me.”

I responded with a low soft hum of approval.

Then she left, while still scrolling through her phone.

I unpacked slowly, folding clothes into the dresser, hanging a few dresses in the closet.

A part of me wanted to wander around the mansion and look for Reynolds even though Mira had told me he was busy.

But I reminded myself that I should stay in the room and unpack.

And pretend that my thighs didn't ache because of a dream that felt so real.

Instead, I choosed to wander around.

The hallway was quiet. The afternoon light poured through the high windows.

I passed closed doors, a second living area, a kitchen that looked like it belonged in a magazine.

At the far end of the main hall, a door stood half-open.

Steam drifted out of the half-opened door.

I should have turned around.

But I didn’t.

Instead I went closer to have a better view. And that's when I realized it was a bathroom.

The bathroom was massive, it had dark stone floors, a glass-walled shower big enough for three people, and a freestanding tub near the windows.

Reynolds stood under the spray with his back to me, one forearm braced against the tile, his head bowed as water cascaded down the long line of his spine.

My breath hitched. Heat rose low in my stomach.

He was completely bare. Water poured down his broad shoulders and the muscles of his back.

His hair was darker when wet, and plastered to the back of his neck.

I couldn’t move.

My mouth went dry. Heat pooled low in my belly. I watched the way his shoulders rose and fell with each slow breath.

I watched the heavy weight of him between his legs when he turned just slightly under the spray. It was thick even at rest, intimidating, and so far beyond what I imagined.

My fingers tightened on the doorframe. I knew I needed to leave. Before he turns all the way and caught me staring.

I took one careful step backward.

Reynolds’ head lifted.

He turned off the water with a twist of the handle. For a second he just simply stood there, with water still dripping down his body, then he pushed the glass door open and stepped out onto the mat.

I froze right in my tracks.

His gaze locked on mine.

His chest rose and fell. He made no move to reach for a towel. He just looked at me, his expression was completely unreadable.

“What are you doing here?”