Reject My Alpha President (Iris and Arthur) novel Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2: A New Reality

Iris POV

I waited for an answer, but Arthur just looked at me, his expression going from cold to unreadable. I was going to insist he say something when someone knocked loudly on our door. Arthur turned and opened the door wide, smiling his professional smile as several people came through.

I recognized some of them from articles and TV interviews where they’d been discussing Arthur’s possible candidacy, but others were strangers. They were all obviously, though not ostentatiously, wealthy, and they were all alphas, except two beta males who acted like assistants to their alpha bosses.

Feeling the pressure to be a gracious hostess, I stepped forward and welcomed them all to our home, but they only made the briefest eye contact with a few nods and then seemed to forget I existed.

“So, you’re the human?” one of them asked with that haughty but not quite insulting disdain I was so used to from alphas. He was about Arthur’s age but not quite as tall and sporting well-coiffed light brown hair.

I said something about my name, but no one seemed to notice that either.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and have a rest?” Arthur turned to me, and I was hoping he would use the moment to introduce me properly, but instead he said, “We can continue what we were talking about later.”

I wanted to protest, to point out that as his future wife and mother to his child I had every reason to remain with these people as they discussed Arthur’s future. But Arthur’s eyes had gone cold, not the ones that I familiar with, and with reluctance I agreed, stepping back from a part of Arthur’s life I had never truly realized before excluded me.

Yes, I thought as I climbed the stairs with what felt like lead in my shoes, my life with Arthur had always been private, but I had never thought he was ashamed of me or wanted to hide me from the other people in his life. Had I been naïve? Those alphas hadn’t treated me with the respect one would give to a housemaid.

I went into the main bedroom to change out of the suit I’d worn to the doctor’s and put on my jeans and paint-splattered smock, which made me feel better right away. My canvas was as I had left it, washes and waves of bright colors that would become the background to the field of wildflowers I was painting to celebrate my recent BA in fine art.

Growing up, I’d always known I wanted to paint. The only true obstacle was money, but I’d worked hard and received several scholarships to get through college in four years.

It took a little longer than usual, but eventually I was lost in my art, what Arthur liked to call my “other-world trance.” The brush was an extension of my body that allowed me to soar and dance.

I was painting in oils, which I ground and mixed up myself, and the images on the canvas were coming together just as I wanted.

I breathed in the smell of linseed oil, which I knew some people found harsh, but it was an old friend to me, like an actor and the smell of greasepaint, I supposed. It was the one area of my life where I had found praise and appreciation even from betas and alphas.

I found myself wondering if any of the Alphas downstairs liked art before sternly telling myself I didn’t need their approval.

I found it much harder to concentrate than usual. I’d been given two great pieces of news with the baby and Arthur’s candidacy, so why was I feeling so alone, so far removed from my mate? I scowled at my canvas. The joy I was trying to show wasn’t coming through; the lines looked uncertain and confused.

I painted undisturbed until the sun went down, powering through until I was a little happier with the painting, if not with my situation in general.

Painting in artificial light had never worked for me, even when my subject was abstract. I crept down to the kitchen and made a sandwich, listening to the murmur of the alpha’s voices in the living room, then went back upstairs and looked over the canvas I was prepping before giving it a good sanding.

I went to bed alone, feeling cold and unsettled. Much later, well past midnight, Arthur joined me, his body a little damp from his nightly shower. Still mostly asleep, I rolled over then and put an arm over his chest. He responded immediately, chuckling softly, and held me back tenderly.

I was half asleep, so it was not a good time to discuss our baby, but I felt my fears dissipate somewhat as he kissed my chin, my forehead, and then my lips. His warm hand ran over my shoulder and around my back, and again I was pleasantly overwhelmed with the sensation of the way my fated mate just fit against my body and, I presume, my soul. He pulled down the strap of might nightgown and kissed my shoulder, then down to my beasts, which he bared to the cool air of the room and his own warm breath.

I shivered, and I felt him smile. But even as I responded to his touch, I wondered how real this was.

I was still feeling that ambivalence the next morning, but I waited Arthur and I both had a little coffee before I asked, “Are you ready to talk about the pregnancy now?”