Rejected My Alpha Mate novel Chapter 8

Rachel's POV

My head was pounding so hard I didn't notice my phone vibrating for a full minute despite it being right beside my hand.

"Hello?" I answered, confusion coloring my tone as I saw Tyler's housekeeper was calling me, "Magda, has something happened?"

I had left instructions with the house staff to report directly to Master Tyler as I would no longer be in residence. They didn't need to know the particulars of why I was gone. All of them were well-trained as house servants who tended to ensure their discretion matched their ability to avoid asking questions not related to their work.

Work hard and silently was Tyler Wright's preference.

"Madam Rachel, we have no hangover cure here."

"I left the recipe with all the other house favorites. It's in the binder in the kitchen drawer beside the pantry."

"No, no, I have never made it, Madam Rachel!"

Magda was a sweet older woman. She reminded me of what a mother was meant to be like, and I found myself unable to be sharp with her.

Gentling my tone, I said, "Can you get the binder, Magda?"

I would coach her through making the cure this first time. I had a feeling Tyler was on the verge of driving the whole staff insane after a night of drinking. Alpha status aside, he acted worse than a baby when he was sick or in pain.

"I can get it. I have it now."

I could hear her flipping pages until she was able to find the right recipe. She made a sound of distress as a crashing noise echoed on her side of the line.

"Magda?"

"Madam, there are many steps to this. Master Tyler is not well. Will you please---"

"Get over here. Now."

I straightened in response to the sound of Tyler's angry voice. He was pissed off.

In the past, I had handmade his hangover cure with fresh herbs from my home garden or bought hand-picked from the farmer's market. I had ground everything with my own two hands and he had acted as if it was a worthless drink to be slung back when necessary.

Now he wanted to order me home to make it for him?

I didn't think so.

"No, Tyler. I don't need to come to the house for a hangover remedy."

"Yours is the best and I need one. You have to come make it."

"No, Tyler, I don't! That is why I left the recipe there."

I felt as if I were explaining this to an angry child rather than an angry rejected mate. Tyler had scared me when he was angry in the past. Now all I felt was annoyance he was trying to boss me around as if I were his housekeeper rather than Magda.

"Didn't you forget something here?"

"Yes," I snapped, "My rejection. Are you offering it to me this morning? I'll be glad to come brew you a cup of hangover tea in exchange for your side of the rejection ceremony."

"What about the IOU for $500,000 you gave me three years ago?"

I shut my mouth abruptly at the reminder.

Tyler could be a bastard when angry or hurting, too. I always forgot how mean he got until the next hangover was on him. I supposed my mind tried to shield me from his cruelty by blocking his behavior out from one time to the next.

Selective amnesia had been the best way for me to cope with the last three years of my life.

Clearing my throat, I tried to regain control of the conversation, "I can talk Magda through making it over the phone. I don't do anything special or extra, Tyler."

"Your debt is still waiting here along with my headache. You either come make my remedy or prove my father right: you slept with me for money the same as any street whore and you have no intention of ever repaying the debt."

I remembered standing in front of Tyler and his father three years previously.

My brother Ethan had been only hours away from being killed; my only chance to save him was to get my newfound mate to pay off the gambling debts our father had wracked up.