The Mark of Betrayal - Chapter 15: Chapter 15

Roman
I didn’t ask for this room, The Brenner Room. I guess it’s just my dumb luck that after thinking about Theo so frequently over the last two days, we’d be put in the room I named after his family. I’ve named a lot of things after my friend and his family. Theo loved to hunt and fish, so I’d opened a hunting and fishing store and named it Theo’s. Luna Jessica had loved her jewelry, so I’d opened a jewelry store and named it Jessica’s Jewels. I even opened a medical center because little Samara was always chasing after me, Theo, and Sawyer and skinning her knees or cutting her hands when she would inevitably fall. Not having gotten her wolf, she always needed medical attention, so I’d named Samara’s Medical Center for Children after her.
At the time, I’d been wrought with grief, and I didn’t care how much money I was spending. I just felt the need to do something, anything, to let Theo and his family know that I was sorry for not being there in time to save them. Whether it was Theo’s way of telling me that he approved, or I just got lucky, every business I opened in their names has thrived making my pack even wealthier than we were before.
As I follow Samantha into the room, I tap my fingers on the name plate, fighting the rise of emotions that I always feel when I think of how I failed my best friend.
I step into the room and look around. There are little things in this room that the Brenner family would have enjoyed. I even put their family crest on the wall over the fireplace. The room is always filled with the flowers that Luna Jessica and Althea liked, irises and lilies.
I nod for the hostess to leave as I watch Samantha walk over to the flowers, reaching out to feel that they are indeed real, even though they are out of season. Sawyer kept Theo’s greenhouses after he took over the pack and he grows them year-round at my request.
“Luna Jessica loved irises,” I say softly as I watch her. Her body goes rigid at my words, and her hand falls away from the flowers.
“Who is Luna Jessica?” she asks, her voice tight. Is that jealousy? Did she possibly know the Brenners? Or do the irises mean something to her?
“Luna Jessica Brenner. You might have seen the name on the room. It’s named after my best friend’s family. They were murdered years ago. I had this room named in their honor. That’s their family crest over the fireplace and the flowers were the favorites of Luna Jessica and her oldest daughter.”
She turns and looks at me and I can’t decipher what I see in her eyes.
“Come sit. I don’t want to talk about the Brenners. I would rather talk about you, if you are willing,” I say, holding out a chair for her.
“I’m not,” she says.
I told her I wouldn’t push, but I’m going to try to ask questions that aren’t intrusive.
She sits and I push in her chair in before sitting across from her.
“For instance,” I say, undeterred by her resistance. “What’s your favorite food?”
Because I’m watching her so carefully, I see her eyes travel over the menu like she’s scanning it for something. I just see the twitch of her lips before she schools her features.
“I like steak. It’s my favorite,” she says.
“Well then, I’ve brought you to the right place,” I say, curious to know what she found on the menu that she was looking for. Is it coincidence that she found what she was looking for? We’re obviously in a steakhouse, or has she been here before? That wouldn’t necessarily narrow my search of packs, since this is a common road for packs to travel when they’re going north and south. But it would give me a better indication of her age or at least the minimum age she would have been when she left her home. If she has been here before, she’d have been older than five when she left her family’s pack.
“See anything that looks good to you?” I ask her.
“I like filet mignon,” she says. “I see you have it on the menu.”
“We do,” I say, feeling another wave of déjà vu. Samara’s favorite was the filet mignon as well. Of course, it is one of the best and most tender cuts of beef. It’s also one of the priciest, so maybe that was the flicker of a smile I saw. “Did you want to make it a surf and turf?” I ask.
“No, but I would like some potatoes.”
“Mashed, baked, or au gratin?” I ask her.
“Baked,” she says just as the waiter comes in.
“Good afternoon, Alpha. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Are my men seated? Are they ordering?” I ask instead of answering.
“Yes, Alpha.”
“Is there any blowback from the guests about their tables being delayed?”
“No, Alpha. Everyone saw you and your warriors come in,” he says, his eyes flickering to Samantha. I’m sure me asking for a private room to be with an unmated she-wolf has set the gossip hotline on fire.
“Good. Samantha, would you like a glass of wine?” I ask her.
She shrugs, looking from me to the waiter and back again. “I’ve never had any.”
“A bottle of our finest red, two glasses,” I say.
“And some water for me, please,” she says. When she’s not being snarky, she’s downright charming. She turns the full force of her smile on the waiter, and I hear him gulp audibly.
“Yes, Alpha,” he says, before turning and practically tripping on his own feet as he walks out.
“Was that intentional?” I ask her.
“What?” she asks and this time, the innocent look is real. She has no idea the effect that her gorgeous smile has on those around her, myself included.
“Never mind. You said you were hungry. Do you want an appetizer?” I ask her. “Some calamari, perhaps?”
“Squid? Eww, no thank you.”
“Don’t like seafood?” I ask her.
“Not particularly,” she says, and I make a mental note to tell our kitchen omegas not to make their Luna any seafood dishes. “I’ll just have a salad. How long have you and your family owned this restaurant?” she asks. I’m surprised she’s showing an interest.
“It’s been in my family for three generations now.”
“Is this how you financially support your pack?” It’s the first bit of interest she’s shown in me or my pack. I’m excited to share any information she’s interested in learning.
“Partly. The restaurant is established and well-known. I pay my chefs and wait staff well so that our customers stay happy. But, over the years, I’ve opened several other businesses, diversified, if you will.”
“All legitimate businesses?” she asks, as if expecting that I’d be into something underhanded.
“Every one of them. I’m not into illegal activities and I don’t do business with shady individuals,” I tell her honestly.
Her eyebrow rises nearly to her hairline. “Is that so?”
“Yes, that’s so. Is it so hard to believe that I’m not a bad Alpha?”
She shrugs about to answer, but the waiter comes in with the wine. When he pours a little in a glass, I sniff it, watching her, then I take a sip.
“It needs to breathe,” I say.
“I have a decanter right here, sir,” he says, pouring the wine into the decanter.
“Are you ready to order?” he asks.
I look at Samantha and watch as she turns to the waiter, hitting him with another one of her dazzling smiles. It looks like he nearly swallows his tongue.
“I’ll have the house salad,” she says then turns to me. “I’m assuming the house dressing is the best.”
“All our dressings are made in house, but the house dressing is my favorite,” I say, risking her getting something else just to be obstinate.
She turns back to the waiter. “House dressing, no onions on my salad please. Then I’ll have the filet mignon with a baked potato.”
“How would you like your baked potato?” he asks her.
“Loaded, please.”
My mate is polite, I’ll give her that.
‘When she’s not talking to us,’ Pierce says. I’m pretty sure he’s sighing like a pitiful puppy in my head as he watches her.
“I’m not pitiful, nor am I a puppy,’ he growls.
‘You’re definitely acting like a lovesick puppy,’ I say, teasing my wolf.
He snorts in my head as I turn to the waiter. “I’ll have what she’s having.”
“Very well, sir. Will that be all for now?” he asks.
“Do you need anything, Samantha?”
“Where is the restroom?” she asks.
“I’ll show you,” he says. We both stand and she looks at me.
“I don’t need help using the facilities,” she says.
“I’ll just guard the door. Make sure you’re safe,” I say to her.
She growls softly but follows the waiter out of the room and to the bathroom.
When she walks into the ladies room, I lean against the opposite wall.
‘Pierce?’
‘I’m listening, but there are no windows for her to escape out of,’ he says.
Considering how much damage she did in the hotel room, I don’t want to consider what she might do to my bathrooms. And I’ll be ready if she comes out swinging some sort of weapon at me.