Page 11 of Alpha's Secret Baby
Like a blind man, I wandered into the living-room, my gaze skittering around as if searching for something. It stopped on the cushions Cherry had made. Covers that bore my mate’s namesake:Cherryblossom. It was one of the little quirks I’d learned about her over the last few months as she’d shared her designs with me. In every one, she liked to hide her mark in it somewhere. Even in the clothes she made, she’d invariably stitched the detail of two cherries in. It was her signature in every piece she made.
Desperation seized me, and I stumbled into her bedroom. My chest tightened as I took in the empty dresser and the wardrobe. Even the bed had been stripped of her sheets and duvet set. She’d left the duvet and pillows neatly bundled on the mattress.
I collapsed on the bed, clutching the covers to my face. I dragged in a deep lungful of breath, hoping to find her scent buried in the material. I needed her sweet perfume, peppered with the grassy undertone of the pack, but the bedding was absent of it. My heart sank.
The silence in the house rang so loudly around me, and I closed my eyes, trying to imagine her in the living room, in a sea of sketches. I pictured her petite body lying on the living-room floor, her back and long neck as graceful as a dancer’s as she drew flowing lines onto a blank page. Desperately, my tortured mind tried to conjure the scratch of her pencil and the shuffle of papers. I wanted to pretend that she was back. I needed everything to be okay, even if it was only for a moment. But the longer I sat there, the more aware I was of my own breathing and of my hurried heartbeat, telling me that thingsweren’tokay.
Blinking my eyes open, I saw the one piece of clothing left in the room, hanging from the wardrobe door: the silver dress Cherry had been supposed to wear at our Moon Ceremony. Each fine bead laced into the fabric sparkled like dew on a spider’s web.
My breath caught in my chest as I remembered how devastatingly beautiful she’d looked in the gown the night she’d worn it. Suppressed groans of desire shivered through me as I recalled stroking her beautiful curves through the sheer silk. I remembered her curves and softness pressed up against me, and my cock stirred. Too vividly, the texture of her soft hair fisted in my hand came back to me. Then, a flash of her molten silver eyes pulsed through me.
“Mine,”I remembered growling. The word had thrummed with all the hunger of my wolf and a need that shot up from my very foundation.
With blinding clarity, I realized that it wasn’t just this house that was full to bursting with memories of Cherry, but that, like the designs she crafted, I was part of her now too.
I washers.
Chapter 8 Cherry
Seven Years Later
Afternoon light flooded my art studio as I traipsed up the stairs into the airy space. Maisy, my assistant designer, trailed behind me, slower as she gingerly ascended with a gown draped across her arms as though it were made of glass.
“Put it on the mannequin, and you can get on with the alterations this afternoon,” I said.
“Sure thing,” Maisy chirped.
My heels clicked over the hardwood floors, and I folded myself gratefully into my desk chair. I didn’t think I’d sat down all day.
My gaze tracked to the dress Maisy was draping over the mannequin. The striking burgundy gown was a bespoke number made for the actress AJ West. She’d requested me to make something for the BAFTA award ceremony she was attending as a nominee. It wasn’t for another month, and I was pleased with the fitting we’d just had with AJ and that thefinalalterations had been agreed on.
I slipped one foot out of my heels, massaging its arch with my other foot. The downside to designing and making clothes for celebrities was that they tended to be high maintenance. Where most people would have one or two fittings, A-listers often demanded three or four before they were satisfied. But, as I looked at AJ’s burgundy gown awash in the bright sunshine, I felt the usual excitement trill through me. The celeb would be wearingmydesign on the red carpet, which I knew would bring a deluge of referrals to my door.
It was a mark of how far I’d come that I was working with so many of the rich and famous. I’d been lucky enough in my fourth and final year of studying at Berlin’s Akademie Mode and Design to be awarded the Black Dress Award for the most-talented designer. Then, a year after graduating, some of my designs had received the MUSE Award for most innovative design. Now, two years after graduating, my reputation was established and I’d been able to rent a storefront here in central Berlin to sell my clothing range. As well as have this studio, where I designed and created. I employed a couple of sales assistants who managed the store, as well as Maisy, to help me here in the studio.
I clicked open my calendar on my computer to check what I had in terms of appointments tomorrow. Then a meeting for this afternoon snagged my eye: final year interns, Mode & Design, introduction, 15:00 pm.
“Oh, bother,” I exclaimed.
Maisy’s dark eyebrows shot up, her gaze darting to me.
“I forgot those final-year students arrive today,” I explained. It was already half past two. “I need to pick Fern up.”
The school bell would be sounding at my daughter’s school at three. That was, perhaps, thebiggestsurprise I’d had over the last seven years. Shortly after arriving in Berlin, I discovered that I was pregnant. After fretting about what to do, I decided to go ahead with the pregnancy. My university had been amazing about it, and I’d been able to defer for a year. Balancing studying and motherhood had by no means been easy, but I loved being a mom even more than being a designer.
“I can go get Fern if you like,” Maisy offered.
Maisy had been with me for six months, and she really had become indispensable, not just with her excellent work in the studio, but happy to run errands like the school run or grab us dinner when we were pulling late nights here.
I smiled at my assistant. “Thanks, but I need you to finish AJ’s dress this afternoon. I know what she’s like. She’ll just drop by tomorrow even though I said it wouldn’t be ready for two days.”
Maisy nodded, her lips quirking. “Ah, celebs, thank god they pay well.”
I chuckled, nodding in agreement. Despite having three employees, there still never seemed to be enough of them to get everything done. It was why I’d taken on the final-year students as interns. It was a great way to have an extra few sets of hands in exchange for giving them experience within a real work setting.
My gaze tracked to the rails of clothes and design books I wanted to look out before they arrived. I pulled a few of the sketches tacked up above my laptop from the wall: my new design range for the fall.
Then, I fished my phone out of my handbag. Scrolling through my contacts, I called Carl.