Chapter 159: Uninvited guest
The door opened smoothly, and an elegant foot clad in an expensive designer shoe stepped onto the immaculate stone tiles, followed by the owner herself. A dazzling blonde, who immediately began striding toward the main entrance with absolute confidence.
"Oh, dear lord... Madam Arden is here," a quiet whisper full of sheer dread echoed behind me. Startled, I spun around to find the head housekeeper standing nearby. The woman’s face was deathly pale, drained of all color, her posture stiff with an uneasy, painful submission.
"Why ’oh dear lord’? Who is she?" I asked with a frown, finding the servant’s reaction far too unnatural, far too terrified.
Shifting a hunted gaze toward me, the woman swallowed hard, nervously twisting the edge of her apron.
"She’s... a designer of sorts. She was responsible for all the landscaping and interior design on the estate," the housekeeper stammered in a hushed, trembling murmur. "And the ’dear lord’ part... is because of her temperament. She comes from a very influential family. Alpha Magnus reached out to her five years ago regarding an important matter and hired her for the project. She drops by periodically, driving the gardeners to quit with her constant fault-finding. Lately, though, her visits have become far too frequent..."
Having spilled this, the woman turned even paler and pressed a hand over her mouth in sheer terror, as if suddenly realizing she had said far too much, and whispered: "Forgive me."
Clenching my jaw, I headed resolutely toward the foyer, every muscle in my body contracting into a painful knot.
I arrived in the hallway just as she crossed the threshold. For a split second, I froze, momentarily struck by her cold, flawless beauty.
This female was undeniably breathtaking. Her perfectly straight, golden hair fell below her hips like heavy silk, gleaming under the artificial lights. She wore a crisp, snow-white blouse of expensive fabric, casually tucked into high-waisted maroon trousers with a modern cut that accentuated her impossibly long legs. On her feet were pointed stilettos in the same deep maroon shade.
Pushing her dark sunglasses up onto her head, she cast a condescending glance at me, her empty gaze sliding right past my face before landing on the head housekeeper.
"Am I going to stand here all day, or will you finally take my bag?" Her voice—ringing with metallic superiority—grated mercilessly against my nerves. "Has Magnus completely ruined you all with his lack of discipline?"
Magnus? Just his first name? It sounded far too intimate for an employee hired on standard terms. An invisible current flared beneath my skin, and my throat tightened with a sudden, scorching wave of anger. A sharp, needle-like pang pierced deep beneath my ribs.
The housekeeper, already mumbling pathetic apologies and practically bowing in half, rushed forward to take the bag. Unable to watch her humiliation, I abruptly held up my hand to stop her.
"The coat rack is right by the door," my voice sounded surprisingly steady, even though everything inside me was boiling and churning. "You can hang your bag there."
Scanning me with a long, annihilating look filled with poisonous contempt, the woman offered a crooked smirk and arched a pristine eyebrow.
"And if something goes missing, are you going to compensate me for the damages?"
I didn’t break eye contact. I held her gaze, even as her aura pressed down on me, attempting to pin me to the floor and force my submission.
"Are you questioning the integrity of the staff working here?" I asked coldly, refusing to yield an inch to this pompous doll. "If so, feel free to leave your belongings in your car. They certainly won’t go missing there."
Our eyes locked. The air in the hallway seemed to crackle with tension, turning so dense it became hard to breathe. Wrinkling her perfect nose, the blonde—instead of simply hanging her ridiculously expensive bag on the small brass hook—flung it onto the ottoman with force. She threw it so carelessly that the glossy red leather bounced off the soft upholstery and hit the floor with a loud thud.
With a sharp click of her heels, she paid no further attention to me, treating me as if I were nothing more than empty air as she strutted directly into the kitchen. She seated herself at a high bar stool with an air of complete ownership and snapped her fingers loudly to summon Derek.
"Coconut milk matcha. Top it with macadamia shavings. And not like last time with those massive chunks—make sure it’s a fine grate. Understood?" she barked in a commanding tone.
I exchanged a glance with the housekeeper, who was still trembling visibly. We both followed her into the kitchen and took seats directly across from this uninvited guest. The woman beside me was practically shaking with fear, which only heightened my discomfort; I genuinely could not comprehend what kind of leverage this woman held over Magnus’s people.
Or perhaps there was something more connecting them than just work? The thought sent a brutal ache through my chest, as if someone were pouring acid over everything inside me.
"May I ask what brings you here?"
The blonde demonstratively ignored my question. Grasping the tall glass Derek immediately and obsequiously placed before her, she looked right through me, addressing only the head housekeeper.
"When will Magnus be back? I have a personal matter to discuss with him."
Her words cut deeper than a slap across the face. A personal matter. With my Alpha. The pain was a living, breathing entity demanding immediate answers, but I forced my spine to remain straight and unbending.
"I... I don’t know. He had urgent business," the housekeeper stammered, ducking her head into her shoulders.
The response clearly displeased the blonde, her lips pressing into a tight, sharp line.
"Prepare a guest bedroom for me. In the same wing as Magnus’s. I will wait for him here until he returns."
Mustering every ounce of my self-control into a tight fist, I leaned forward slightly, unable to stomach this farce a second longer.
"Perhaps we can handle your issue without Magnus’s presence?"