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Every one of my suspicions was correct.
There’s my husband, who’s supposed to be convalescing from a serious injury, sitting propped up in his bed in a navy-blue velvet dressing gown, with a half-naked red-head beside him, scrambling for cover.
“Darling,” Nathan says, as if he’s greeting his mate and not the being of pure wrath that I’ve become. “Have you met Amber?”
CHAPTER 41
Have I met Amber? Have I met Amber?
“I don’t know. Does she have a scar from me cutting her face up with a broken bottle?” I snap. Then, I remember Nathan’s scar, which is still pink and fresh and bumpy as it heals. I know he’s self-conscious about it. I really hope my remark stings him to the core, but I hate that I feel that way.
“Your Majesty,” Amber says, keeping her eyes downcast as she hurries to collect a blouse from within the bedding.
I ignore her. She isn’t even in the room, as far as I’m concerned. I choose to keep being furious with Nathan. “I have been working my ass off trying to run not just the Toronto pack, but Greater London, with no help or advice from you. Because I thought you were still recovering.”
“I am still recovering,” he protests, gesturing to the bed he’s lounging in.
The nerve of him. “No, you’re fucking your mistress!”
“We weren’t,” Amber quietly interrupts.
“What?” I demand. How dare she speak to me, when I haven’t addressed her. How dare she assume I want her input in this at all.
“We weren’t having sex.” Her eyes are downcast, and she’s focused on buttoning her blouse.
I snap, “Look at me when you’re speaking.”
To my shock, she does, and says, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
It’s not sarcasm, not that I can tell. I point to the door. “Get out.”
“Yes, Your Majesty—”
“Don’t leave,” Nathan barks sharply. “Bailey, you have no right—”
“You have no right to say a fucking word right now!” I jab a finger toward the stairs. “Get your sleazy piece of traitor ass out of here, before I banish you from this pack permanently, as you should have been years ago!”
She curtsies, grabs a skirt and some shoes from the floor, and hurries out.
“She wasn’t lying,” Nathan says, raking a hand through his hair. A raven lock flops over his forehead in defiance of his attempt to clear it away; he hasn’t had a haircut in a month and it only makes him more maddeningly attractive. “I was just cleared to have sex this morning, anyway.”
“And you didn’t waste any time,” I shoot back.
“I wasn’t going to have sex with her,” he lies, like a fucking liar.
“Right. She was just here, in your bed, with her clothes pretty much off, but you weren’t going to sleep with her.” As much as I hate it, knowing that Nathan and I can have sex now makes me want to have sex with Nathan. Even though I’ve just caught him with another woman in his bed.
This connection thing between us is ridiculous. It doesn’t have any common sense and it can’t be reasoned with.
“I don’t have sex with her at all,” he says, spreading his hands. “At least, not intercourse. I was just looking for a blowjob.”
“Ugh!” I can’t imagine a way for him to be any more disgusting than he already is. “Do you think that’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“It would make me feel better,” he says with a shrug. “You know I’m not going to have any children outside of our marriage.”
“Right, the fact that you make me look like a fool in front of the entire pack, that’s just a side note.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I didn’t come here to fight or to hear about your non-penetrative sex life. I came to show you this.”
I move to stand at the side of his bed and drop the folder in his lap, then think better of it and cover his hand with mine when he reaches for it. “Wait. You should be warned about what’s in there.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“It’s pictures. From a security camera in the throne room. You’re in them. And so is the person who directly attacked you.”
His expression hardens, and he slips the folder from beneath our hands. “Who is it?”
“It’s Ashton.” Saying it out loud makes me even more angry than I was before. “You should have banished him. You should have—”
“Will what I should have done undo this?” Nathan snaps, gesturing to the scar on his face. “Will it undo the pain I endured?”
I say nothing.
He flips through the photographs, barely lingering on the flagged one. “These are all from the same camera. What about the others?”
“Security already checked those. I put together a task force to investigate and they recovered most of the footage the day after the riot. All of the cameras were damaged but there were a couple that took extra time. We’re still waiting on the final hard drive,” I explain.
