The Alpha King's Mistress Chapter 32: Visit

**Nicholas**

As I sat in my office, engrossed in the stacks of paperwork, Clifford, one of my trusted aides, barged in without warning. His sudden entrance disrupted the quiet focus I had on the documents before me.

"Alpha, Samantha is coming back," Clifford announced, sounding concerned.

The mention of Samantha’s comeback made me pause. I let out a weary sigh, feeling frustrated, worried, and overwhelmingly tired.

"You should take a break, Alpha. You've been stuck in here for a whole week," Clifford suggested.

His words hit home. I hadn't left this office, swamped by pack duties and never-ending paperwork. The lack of a break had worn me out, leaving me physically and mentally exhausted. I knew I needed rest, but thoughts of her crept into my mind — Florence, my mate. I'd deliberately kept my distance, pretending not to care. But deep down, she occupied more space in my thoughts than I admitted.

I'd sent men to watch over her from a distance, hoping she'd return for supplies or seek my help. But she never did. Not since I'd told her to leave the castle. I didn't want to see her every day, but her absence weighed heavily on me. I realized I might be more attached than I wanted to admit.

"Clifford, I appreciate it, but I have work to do," I began, intending to send him away. Yet, before I could, Clifford continued.

"There's more," Clifford added, “She bought paint at the pack center."

His mention of Florence's purchases caught my attention, "Anything else?"

Clifford hesitated, sighing he finally spoke, "She talked to someone, a man, while she was there."

"Who?" My voice came out darker and colder than I intended.

"Jake Morgan."

At the mention of the name, a surge of anger and jealousy hit me unexpectedly. The thought of Florence interacting with another man stirred emotions I hadn't foreseen. It caught me off guard, shaking the walls I'd built as sudden possessiveness over her actions awakened over me.

……..

**Florence**

Arriving back at the cabin, I wasted no time in diving into the task at hand. I gathered the supplies I had purchased earlier, including the paint rollers and cans, laying them out in an organized manner. Dipping the roller into the paint, I began applying the first strokes to the weathered walls.

As the evening rolled in, I took a break from painting the cabin's walls. Covered in paint specks, I looked pretty beat, but a quick bath refreshed me. I settled for a black nightgown and whipped up a simple meal. The smell of noodles mingling with the faint scent of paint in the air.

Sitting down with my bowl of noodles by the crackling fireplace, I felt cozy and content. But suddenly, a knock on the door broke the calm.

"Who is it?" I called out, but the familiar scent of sandalwood made my heart skip a beat.

"It's Nicholas," came a reply.

Confusion and surprise gripped me all at once. Nicholas, of all people, here at the cabin? At this hour?

"What does he fcking want now?" I muttered, making my way to the door.

With a hint of reluctance, I cracked open the cabin door, half-expecting the sight of Nicholas loitering on the doorstep. His mere presence never failed to stir something within me, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it.

There he stood, still a vision of striking allure. His chiseled jawline was clenched, a sign of irritation in his piercing green eyes. His sleek black hair was messy and tousled, as though he'd run his fingers through it a dozen times. Ditching the suit jacket, he sported a crisp white shirt with a few buttons undone, teasing a peek at his broad chest. The sleeves rolled up to his elbows added to the casual yet effortlessly sexy look he effortlessly pulled off.

Scolding myself internally for finding him attractive, I forced myself to focus on the situation.

Wasting no time on niceties, I met his gaze, my expression guarded. "What do you want?"

Nicholas's response cut through the air with a prick of irritation. "You should know why I'm here," he retorted, brushing past me and stepping into the cabin as if he owned the place.

"You don't have the right to barge into my house like this!" I snapped.

But his next words hit me like a blow.

"This house belongs to me"

His words leave me feeling powerless against his claim over the cabin. As he strode into the living room, I watched incredulously as he casually picked up my bowl of noodles.

"What are you eating?" he asked casually. His tone lacked warmth, almost as if I was a stranger to him rather than someone who is his mate.

"I don't see why that concerns you" I fired back.

Nicholas's mocking and ridicule pierced through the air like icy daggers. "Noodles? Really? Is that what you survive on now? Why bother going to Layla for money when you could have asked me? Or is it beneath you to ask?"

The weight of his mockery and insinuations hit me harder than I'd anticipated. I couldn't hold back my frustration and hurt. Reacting purely on emotion, I slapped him, hoping to let out some of the pent-up feelings.

But to my surprise, Nicholas laughed in response. Then, with an odd casualness, he takes out wine bottles, "You might need these. Considering I'm here to claim what's rightfully mine."

Looking at the wines, my hands clenched. I made a choice. If he wanted to play this game, I'd play along. We could harbor our mutual disdain, but if he intended to use me, then I'd use him just the same.

I know what he meant. He wanted me now. Quite frankly, I wanted him the same. He could act like nothing happened after, I will do the same. I will mirror what he was doing to me, maybe, just maybe he might feel the same agony I am feeling.

With that thought, I grabbed one of the bottles and, without hesitation, I downed its contents in one swift gulp while staring at him. The burning sensation as the liquid flowed down my throat was a contrast to the storm of emotions swirling within me.*