Claimed by The Rogue Alpha
Claimed By The Rogue Alpha Chapter 22

==Matteo==

My lids trembled before I slowly opened my eyes. First, everywhere appeared blurry, but after some time, I finally gained focus. The familiar chandelier hung above. I shut my eyes again, taking a deep breath. Reopening them, I leaned on the bed head. I was alone in the room, leaving me wondering how I'd made it here. One minute I was in the bar and the next, I was...

The bar. Dammit. I'd gotten drunk. I ran my hand across my hair, instantly noticing that it was wet. Did I have a shower or...? I groaned again. This was one reason I hated drinking. It messed with my head. Cussing, I heaved from the bed. F**k, I weigh a log. Cool draught filtered into the room. I drew my attention to the window.. It was raining buckets now. The sky had become so dark that one would think it was deep into the evening, even when it was just... I took my eyes to the wall clock, taken aback when I saw the time. 7:30. Had I been so wasted? Seriously? I shook my head. I wasn't ever gonna take alcohol again.

Just then, a smell overpowered me. It was intoxicating. That same frangipani scent that tormented me. I groaned and went for the bathroom. Opening the door hastily, I got inside, turned on the tap and began splashing my face with water. Wake up, wake up wake up! You need to wake up, man! I stared at the mirror, disgusted with whom was at the other end. A knock sprang up. I wiped my face with a towel and opened the door-stepping into the room. "Who is that?"

"It's Philemon, sir."

I fought the urge to sigh. Of course, I wasn't expecting him to say his name, I... Know what, that did it. Sooner than later, I would lay him off.

"What do you want?"

"Miss Haynes would like to see you."

I almost burst out laughing, but I held myself. The nerve of the brat. And here was who was supposed to be my servant, telling me that a slave wanted to see me. Talk about wonders. "Come in," I said.

Slowly, he opened the door. I got ready to douse him with a slap, but my plan was aborted. Olivia stood at the door. She stepped inside.

I waved Philemon off and went for the bed. Perching on it, and without facing her, I said, "What do you want?"

She sighed, and muttered something under her breath. He never changes. I heard it, but I didn't say anything.

"I wanted to know if you feel better now?"

I scoffed, and turned to face her. "Why do you suddenly care?"

She bit her lip. An action that tickled me. I mentally scolded myself.

"Because you gave me the scare." She crossed her arm, hitching up her dress in the process. I groaned. Not again

"I'm confused. In what way?"

She frowned, then eased her face. Sighing again, she said. "You were acting off, although now on hindsight, I realise you had too much to drink."

My jaw clenched as she said that. What gave her the audacity?

But she wasn't done.

"You had a punch match with the wall, and..." She searched for my hand which was obscured by the duvet. "does it still hurt that much?" "What are you talking about?"

"Your hand,"" she said.

On reflex, I drew my hand from the duvet, just in time to hear her gasp.

I looked to replace her looking confused. As though she'd seen a ghost.

"Your hand."

"What about it?"

"It was bruised. You burst it open."

I looked back at it, realising just too late the gravity of the situation. There were no signs of bruising anywhere. SHIT! F**k!

"You must be mistaken."

"What?" she said, laughing. "Of course not. I'm-"

"Cooking up scenes just to try to seduce me."

She stopped, stunned, and blinked her eyes. "I'm sorry, what?"

"A word of advice. Settle for a more sexy gown. This..." I sized her up, taking in the light cotton dress she was putting on." Doesn't make the cut."

"Wow," she said. "Yeah, maybe you're right. I'm such a fool for helping your sorry a*s in the first place. And this dress, this dress? Yeah, that was what I was provided with. I have to stuff tissues around my boobs so that I don't run the risk of having my nipple glare to your pervaded ugly face. You're right, Matteo, to think that-"

"Enough."

"That I am hitting on you, cos I don't know why I'm still here in the first place."

I grunted.

"I'd have been better off dead than having to deal with your-"

"I said shut it, goddmit!" I said, pouncing on her-gripping her arm. She trembled, but instantly put on a brave front. Her face, hard.

"You want to eat me raw? Go ahead."

I glared at her, the muscles of my jaw pleading for mercy. She didn't blink; her hazel eyes shot at me. I took notice of her brows. Read more at Narugi.com They were neatly swept in place, making me appreciate her blond feature more. Talking about blonde, I focused my gaze on her hair, and that was when the smell hit me. Frangipani.

I inwardly gasped.

Then, from nowhere, something slobbery landed straight on the bridge of my nose. It took me a while to realise it was saliva. She spat on me? F**k, she did.

I shut my eyes. Anger, fury, rage. All in one. They clung to me.

"How dare you?"

I snapped my eyes open to replace her...shaken. But I wasn't going to be fooled by the show of regret.

"I..."

I didn't know when my grip on her loosened. But when I realised, it was too late. She was already at the door, trying to scramble away.