The Alpha CEO’s Unloved Wife

Angelique‘s Seduction 

Heathridge brought Jane’s dinner up to her room on a tray.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, flustered by the kindness.

“My pleasure, madam,” he smiled warmly as he closed the door behind him.

She sat on the couch in her satin pyjamas and watched a foolish television romantic comedy whilst she ate and wondered what Baron did for his meal. She doubted that he ate in the dining room with the drunk women.

When she tiptoed out onto the landing in curiosity, she could hear their drunken laughter spilling out in raucous tones, but no male voices.

It was late when they left, and Jane watched the last tail-lights recede down the driveway with relief. She took the tray down to the kitchen so that Heathridge did not have to collect it in the morning, and did the dishes, before creeping back through the house.

Baron’s voice from his office drew her attention. His door was open, and through it she could see him in his wing back chair, his hair dishevelled now and trying to reform its curls, and a glass of whiskey in his hand.

“Oh, poor baby.” Angelique purred, and

Jane saw her cross the open door, wearing only her underwear, red and lacey. “Stuck in his office all afternoon and night.” She placed her foot on the chair between Baron’s thighs, her toes teasing his c-ck. “I have come to make it up to you.”

his trousers. Baron’s eyes changed focus, over Angelique’s shoulder, meeting Jane’s and she saw the shift of his expression,

and into the room that wasn’t hers but to sleep in, closing the door behind her and

cried herself to sleep against the door and only stirred slightly as it was pushed open. Half in dream, she felt Baron pick her up off the floor

left, wondering at why the alpha wolf, master of his home and the women he kept in it, would feel the need to sneak in and out of his

covers in surrender, dressing in running gear. As she made her way down the stairs, Heathridge returning for the day was letting himself in through the front door. “Good morning, madam,”

she was bewildered by the courtesy as always. Heathridge was a beta, and technically outranked her in the pack hierarchy, but socially her family and marriage to Baron,

your room to be changed.” Heathridge

“Changed?” She paused, confused.

bedroom, madam. He had not realised that you had chosen the blue room. It

face gave nothing away. They both knew that

your possessions to be transferred,”

she agreed. What did it matter which room she slept in, none of them would

opened them for her. On the main road, she moved from

from what she was, and what that made her to the pack. She either surrendered to it, found a way around it, or, as her mother had done, ended

had not encountered any. A rarer rank, the title often wrongly used to designate those who fell out of favour or were junior, a true omega was a submissive werewolf, the opposite to an alpha

or beta mate, her mother had told her, an omega’s existence had the potential to be a happy one. The right alpha or beta would value what omega gave, they would find satisfaction in an omega’s submission, and it would trigger in them a fierce and devoted need