Page 81 of The CEO Alpha’s Substitute Mate

I take the glass, and we clink.

The problem with Zara is that it’s never just one drink. As the night sky grows darker, I’m on my third glass, and we’re talking profit margins and where to order the best uniforms, both well on our way to getting drunk.

That’s how Callum finds us.

I lift my glass at him in greeting, and he frowns. “You’re not supposed to be drinking. Salar gave you pain medication.”

I give him a lopsided smile. “Oops.”

He just sighs, plucking the glass from my hand and giving Zara a displeased look. “I’ll have the driver send you home.”

“Okay.” Zara giggles. “But I’m not paying him.”

He stares at her, and I whisper loudly, “It’s not a car service, Zara. It’s Callum’s driver.”

Zara puckers her face. “Even better. Will he pay me?”

I snicker. “No. But he’s drunk.”

“Who is?”

“Seems they’re both drunk.” Salar’s voice comes from the doorway.

Callum doesn’t look toward him. “Have Miss Ellis escorted home. Make sure she is inside her apartment before the driver returns. And give her something to sober up.”

Reid appears as Salar helps the laughing woman to her feet.

“Reid, next time, make sure Miss Ellis isn’t smuggling in alcohol.”

Reid looks awkward. “Yes, Alpha.”

The three of them leave, and I sink back to my pillows. “We aren’t that drunk.”

Callum raises a brow. “You’re well on your way to becoming so.”

I hit the side of the bed lightly with my fist. “Next time I’m going to meet her outside.”

“I’ll arrange a driver for you if you want to do that.”

Looking up at him, I hold his gaze longer than I usually manage. “I don’t know why, but somehow I thought you would be more restrictive on my movements.”

“Why?”

I open my mouth and find nothing in it. “I don’t know. You seem like the controlling type.”

Callum bends, gets one arm under my knees, puts the other behind my back, and lifts me off the bed before I’ve finished the sentence. My hands end up around his neck out of pure self-preservation, and my face is about four inches from his throat as he starts walking.

“Where are you going to run?” His voice comes from somewhere above my ear. “There’s no place to go but here.”

He isn’t being cruel, which is what gets me. There’s no apartment, there’s no job, and there’s a boy asleep in a room in this house with an entire pack waiting on him.

He puts me down on his own mattress, on the far side, then pulls the covers over my legs before I’ve worked out that we’re in his room. The sheets on this side smell of him.

“Am I going to be sleeping here from now on?”

“Yes.” He’s already reaching for the tablet on the nightstand. “Do you have a problem with that?”

I get as far as opening my mouth to say that I do. Nothing comes out because it would be a lie, and I’ve been lying about small things all day until I’ve run out.