Page 59 of The Alpha's Unclaimed Mate

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“Understood.”

“Let’s talk again at the end of the week.”

The screen goes dark.

Sienna gets to her feet, sliding her tablet under her arm. She heads to the door, and suddenly, I’m overwhelmed with anxiety. I want her to look at me. Not that empty, blank stare, but the way she used to look at me before.

“Sienna.”

She does not stop walking.

“Sienna, wait.”

Her hand is already on the knob.

“A word.”

She pauses and turns. Her tone is polite, disinterested. “About what, Alpha?”

I’ve got nothing. I wanted her to stop. I wanted another ten seconds of her in this room. Her scent. I wanted her to stop walking away from me.

“You have not been coming to meals,” I manage. “Some days, you only show up for dinner.”

“I have a lot of work.”

“I could lighten your load.”

An icy expression takes over her face. For the first time in three days, she looks at me properly. Green eyes. Steady. Colder than the window glass.

“I really don’t need the Alpha of Silvercrest doing me favors.” Her voice is level. “I have two weeks left on this assignment. I would like to do as much as possible before I leave. Please don’t concern yourself with my workload.”

“Sienna.”

“Is that all, Alpha?”

“Come down for dinner tonight.”

I hate the sound of my own voice asking her to do this. Thin. Nearly pleading. The sound of a man who has given up his right to ask.

Her jaw sets. Before she can say anything, there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in!” I snap through gritted teeth.

Sienna makes room for the door to open, and Monroe enters, wincing. “Sorry, Alpha Steele. Miss Carter has a visitor.”

Sienna blinks. “Me?”

Monroe steps aside, and a man appears in the doorway. He looks familiar, but I can’t place him. And then, Sienna’s entire face blooms with a smile so breathtaking that my wolf sits up, alert.

“Ethan!”

I’ve never seen her so happy before. She flings herself at the man, and he catches her by the waist.

“Hey!”

“Oh, you’re here!” There’s such profound relief in her voice that I find myself bristling.

“And you are?” I find myself asking.

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