Chapter 25

I am, quite predictably, exhausted at the Alpha's mansion the next day. Fortunately, there's a lovely little staff kitchen on the same floor as my office, and it's always stocked with very good, very strong imported coffee.

I lean back in the leather chair behind my desk, sighing gratefully as I inhale the rich aroma of hazelnut wafting up from my third cup of the day. Man, this coffee is delicious. I think they have it specially flown in from some fancy little cafe in Paris, Claire said.

There are definitely perks to working for the Alpha Wolf, let me tell you.

I take a moment to look out the window to my right. My office is at the very end of the hall, which means I get two gorgeous old bay windows that flood the room with natural light. They overlook the grounds, mainly groups of maple trees. The view is going to be unbelievably stunning come autumn.

Right now, we're slowly easing into early summer. May flowers have sprung up in lovingly tended beds that line the edges of the lawn, bright in their pinks and blues and whites. Claire told me that the Alpha specifically requests that all the flowers planted be attractive to pollinators like butterflies and bees, because he's very concerned about the imbalances in the ecosystem.

I've only met the Alpha twice so far, but he seems such a kind and gentle man. Nothing like I was expecting. He's also a very busy man who hasn't had to call on me again after his physical, and I've been trying to find a way to gently insist on more regular appointments.

My notebook is open in front of me, and I flip through the pages again with one hand, still holding the coffee cup close to my lips with the other. Some of his results seem a bit off, and it's concerning me.

For example: Why is his blood pressure so high, when I know that he's on medication and a very strict diet to address that? These numbers should be lower, and yet his medical records indicate that they're increasing, not decreasing.

Unless the Alpha is skipping medication or cheating horribly on his diet – and I'm talking midnight feasts of steak and BLTs on every day that ends in Y – these numbers don't make much sense.

There are a few other troubling results, too. It's nothing I feel I can really raise to anyone, at least not yet, having only met the Alpha twice and examined him once. But something feels off to me. My "spidey senses are tingling," as they say.

I set the notebook back down and sigh again, take a sip of coffee. It's nearly lunchtime, and I'm glad of it, because I'm going to fall asleep at my desk if I'm not careful. There's a lot more quiet sitting in my office in this job than I'd ever expected to enjoy when I first went into medicine.

I've had lunch with Roger nearly every day since I started, and he wasn't lying about the food here being amazing. Mrs. Potts (yes, that's her real name – I asked) makes the most amazing spread.

There's a rolling staff lunch every single day, simple but so good. It's usually gourmet sandwiches, a big pot of hearty soup, a dessert, and little bits on the side. Roger tells me that whenever they're planning a big dinner to be hosted at the mansion, Mrs. Potts makes extra and serves the leftovers at lunch the next day.

The iMac on my desktop pings. It's the in-house messaging service – the Alpha is so important that his staff have our own IM service. I click my monitor and see that it's from Claire.

"Alpha has a 30-minute slot at 12:30," her message reads. "I know you've been wanting to get a private talk with him soon. Should I schedule you in?"

"Yes, please!" I respond. I add a "thank you" emoji for good measure, and she responds with a smiley face.

I glance at my clock – I have ten minutes before our meeting. I drain my coffee, sweep my notebook and a couple of pens into my leather briefcase, and spend a few minutes pottering around my office to eat up the few remaining minutes. I should bring a couple of plants here, I think. Personalize the place.

At 12.30 exactly, I'm standing outside the Alpha's office door. I raise my hand to knock, and a commanding "come in!" answers me.

I open the office door and step inside. If my office is elegant and cheerful, the Alpha's office is simply stunning. Antique furniture is tastefully scattered around the room, and large windows identical to mine let in the light.

Every other wall is lined with bookcases, stuffed to the gills with antique tomes and scattered about with attractive little knick-knacks that probably cost more than my car. The Alpha himself is sitting behind a large desk, neatly marking something down in a day planner. He closes the book and looks up at me expectantly.

"Dr. Prism!" he says. "I must apologize to you, straight off. Shut the door, dear. Thank you. I know you're here to help me, and I've not made myself very available to you. There's just – so much going on right now."

I notice that he suddenly looks very tired, and every single one of his 70 years. Frowning a little with concern, I motion for him to hand me his arm, and I take his pulse while looking at my watch.

"Hmm," I say. "Pulse is a little quick. Sir, if you don't mind me making a personal remark?"

"Not at all," the Alpha waves me off. "You're my physician. You're the only one who can get away with making personal remarks, aside from my wife, of course." He gives me a winning little smile.

I smile back – the man certainly is charming.

"Sir, I'm not here to tell you how to run your affairs," I say. "But it was my understanding that you've officially announced your retirement, specifically due to your health. Yet I've worked here for over a week and only examined you once, and your days are still stuffed morning till night with meetings."

The Alpha sighs, leaning back in his chair and lifting a slightly shaking hand to rub his face.

"Dr. Prism–" he begins, but I gently interrupt.

"Please, sir, call me Evelyn." He smiles at me and continues.

"Evelyn, then. You're right. I'm supposed to be taking a step back. I want to take a step back, in fact. I'm not one of those old men who can't let go of the glory days – I want nothing more than to pass all this tedious business on to the next generation and finally take a break for the first time in my life.

"But I can't seem to! Every time I have Claire clear out my schedule, there's some emergency that needs my attention. Charles in particular has been very firm about the need for my presence at so many meetings, and I certainly don't want to let the boy down. If he feels he needs my support, he needs it, but…"

I keep my expression calm, but inside I'm seething. Charles needs his presence, my left foot. I know how Charles works – he's likely trying to keep himself in the Alpha's eye as much as possible, to up his chances of his wife getting named heir.

"I completely understand, sir," I say gently. "But as your doctor, I'm going to have to insist that you step back at least a little. I'm not thrilled with your recent test results, and your pulse even just now is higher than I'd like. And I need to do weekly examinations at the very least, to monitor your health progress."

The Alpha smiles at me and reaches out to pat my hand.

"I quite understand, and of course you're right," he says. "I'll talk to Claire – and you talk to Claire, to keep me accountable. Every Monday at nine, I'm all yours for a full hour. And if you feel you need more time, you say so. You're the boss, here, Evelyn. And I'll listen, I promise."

I smile back at him, with sincerity and relief.

"Thank you, sir. I truly do just want to do my job."

"I know you do, and I've not made it easy for you so far," he says. "And please, dear, don't call me sir. I get 'sirred' every day from morning till night. Please call me Emmett. That's my given name, you know."

I'm a little overwhelmed by how touched I feel. I didn't know the Alpha's name was Emmett, actually – his given name is almost never used, because werewolves in high positions are rarely called by their first names outside of close family and friend circles.

"Emmett, then," I say. "And thank you."

"No, thank you," he sighs, glancing at the flashing lights on his desk phone. "Evelyn – can I tell you something, quite honestly? And have it remain between us?"

"Of course," I say. "You have doctor-patient privilege with me, and I include any kind of private conversation to exist under that umbrella."

"Thank you," he said. "Well, the thing is, I'm under quite a lot of strain lately, with needing to name an heir. Really, the social politics around this role are outmoded and standing in my way. Marcus needs to be named the heir; he's going to make the best Alpha, and both he and I know it.

"But he's not married, and that works against him. The more conservative members of our community would challenge his authority at once if he was named heir without a wife. I'm holding off as long as I can, but I can't do so forever."

I try to keep my expression neutral, but my heart twists at the mention of Marcus.

"I'm so sorry, sir–Emmett," I say. "That does sound stressful. What do you think you'll do?"

"I'm not sure," the Alpha says, running a hand over his face again. "He's seeing a lovely girl, Lydia, but I can tell his heart's not in it. Political marriages are common in our society, but I know it's not right for Marcus. He needs to be in love."

Again, I'm not sure what to say, so I just try to look sympathetic.

"Ah, well. I'm sure it'll all work out eventually," the Alpha says. "But a father does worry so. I sometimes think that people forget that, you know – I'm not just the Alpha, I'm also a father."

"And you're a good father," I say softly. "You are. I'm sure things will work out. But you need to look after yourself, too, or you won't be around to see it."

"You're right, once again," the Alpha says, giving me a worn but warm smile. "And I'll see you promptly at nine on Monday, Dr. Prism. Evelyn. You have my word."

"I'll hold you to it," I say, shaking his extended hand before slipping out of his office.

Outside, in the hallway, I sag against the wall and rub my temples.

Things seem to be more complicated than I'd thought.