Read with BonusRead with Bonus

Chapter 7 No Pain, No Gain

[Ella]

"Camilla, what are you doing?"

It's Mr. Clapton, and he is not wearing sunglasses today, which is surprisingly relaxing to me.

At the moment, Mr. Clapton looks like a furious beast. A shiver spread down my spine to my limbs, followed by a lurch in my stomach after sensing the hidden rage in his sapphire eyes.

"Eth!" the woman cries out Mr. Clapton's nickname. So, her name is Camilla.

"Look what she's done! Are you comfortable letting her take care of that precious cat?" Camilla screams, points to the egg wash on her tight skirt and complains to Mr. Clapton.

But Mr. Clapton's expression is terrifying, just like a wild animal found its prey, even though he doesn't shift now. His eyes seem to be able to shoot out a million daggers and cut Camilla into pieces.

Camilla's lips are slightly parted, but they don't move. She doesn't say another word, frozen in place like an ice sculpture.

"Who told you my cat was here?" Mr. Clapton asks. His fists clench at his side as he walks toward the wretched woman.

"I-I asked Ansel," Camilla says, her head bowed, not daring to stare into Mr. Clapton's eyes.

"I will give you one more chance. If you lie to me again, I'll arrange for Alpha George to be the polar bears' sheriff in the Arctic." Mr. Clapton says. I even hear him grunt coldly. However, what he says sounds humorous.

"No, please don't. My dad will be mad." Camilla's lips quiver, tears marring her eyeshadow, and she looks pitiful. "I borrowed my father's account and logged into the city monitoring system. Then I found out she'd picked up the cat."

"You like checking city CCTV, don't you? Very well. Next Monday, you'll be helping Alpha George monitor CCTV in the city. Someone will replace you as the group's receptionist." Mr. Clapton says with a cold expression.

"Please. Eth, don't do it. I just wanna help you get your cat back." Camilla begs, tears sliding down her face to her chin. She grabs Mr. Clapton's arms.

"You should have known our relationship had ended when you handled my belongings without permission. Camilla Lewis, didn't your father ever tell you what happens to people who piss me off?" Mr. Clapton warns her and shrugs off her hand. His voice sounds more powerful than it did a moment ago. He uses the Alpha Voice, I guess.

I hear the Blue Moon Pack has annexed many packs during its expansion and set them as branches, like the relationship between a group and a subsidiary. Camilla's pack is perhaps one of the branches. In other words, Mr. Clapton is Camilla and her father's Alpha, which means his Alpha voice is absolutely inviolable to them.

"I'm sorry, Alpha Ethan," Camilla says, changing how she calls Mr. Clapton. Her hands hung limply at her sides.

I sit on the floor and watch Camilla leave the apartment, losing her mind and covered in egg wash. I suddenly realize that although the Ronan Family Pack has only seven members and is located in the country, at least I am not under Mr. Clapton's control. My family and I are still free.

"Are you all right?" Mr. Clapton asks.

"I'm okay. Thank you, Mr. Clapton," I say.

The wound on my hand has stopped bleeding. All shifters are born with the ability to heal themselves. According to my mother, my self-healing ability is better than my father's. So, my wound should be completely healed by tomorrow morning. Provided no other crazy women come to step on me a few more times.

"I'll call Dr. Paul to come and check your injury." Mr. Clapton asks, still wearing his poker face, making it impossible to read what he's thinking.

"Never mind. I believe I'll recover by tomorrow morning." I shook my head, waving my bloodied left hand at him and throwing him a smile. The pain has eased, and the scabbed wound is getting smaller. It looks like my self-healing ability has become stronger since I shifted last year.

Mr. Clapton also notices my action, and he states, "Your self-healing ability is impressive."

He gives me a positive comment. This is truly a windfall I get today.

No pain, no gain. The old saying pops into my head.

"Wow, a compliment," I say and proudly keep my lips curved upward.

He sniffs but says nothing.

I try to stand up from the floor and think it would be nicer if Mr. Clapton would be kind enough to lend me a hand to help me up. I extend my right arm. As a result, he furrows his brow and takes a few steps backward.

"Can't you stand up on your own?" He asks me, then purses his lips.

I shouldn't have expected anything from this distant and condescending man. I roll my eyes and stand up with my right hand. The floor is a mess, but the chicken, fish, and vegetables are still good. But unfortunately, the ice cream has melted into a milkshake.

I sigh, kneel down and pick up the foods that are still edible, and put them in my canvas bag.

"You're going to take those garbage back to eat?" Mr. Clapton doesn't bend his honored knee to help me pick up the food, instead choosing to stand aside and ask me meaningless questions.

"The foods are still clean. Only the packages are on the carpet." I reply, pick up the last sweet potatoes, and then stand up.

"You can create more value with the time you waste picking up garbage. For example, invite me upstairs for a cup of coffee." He says, folding his arms across his chest, with the corners of his lips up.

His eyes look like the ocean under a clear sky, drawing me to stare at them as I talk to him. Honestly, I should have shown a little more anger. Because his ex-girlfriend has come after me for him. He is the one who didn't handle the incident well enough, which caused me to get my hand hurt and lose a carton of organic eggs.

However, as he does help me get rid of Camilla, I choose to forget my unhappiness and invite him upstairs for a cup of instant coffee.

With almost 10 kilos of food in my right hand, I step up to the third floor. During this period, Mr. Clapton walks in front of me as if he is a stranger, without saying a word such as to help me carry some things. Maybe to him, I am taking a bag of garbage, which will get his hands dirty if he helps me.

Ella, calm down. You're a generous girl. Don't get angry for trifles. You are his employee. He is the badass boss who pays you well. You're not friends. He is not obligated to help you.

Thanks to these comforting words, I manage to resist the urge to kick Mr. Clapton down the stairs and allow him to stand in front of my apartment door safe and sound.

"Meow~" Hearing the key unlocking the door, my lovely Ethan has already waited in the doorway to welcome me with his charming purr.

"I'm home, baby. Did you do as you were told this afternoon?" As I enter the house, I immediately put down my canvas bag, which is squeezed to deformation by food, and pick up my Ethan to imprint a kiss on his forehead.

"M~eow~" Ethan arches his body again at the man standing behind me. He should be very uncomfortable with Mr. Clapton.

"Go away!" Mr. Clapton grrrs at Ethan. Probably sensing the powerful aura from Mr. Clapton, Ethan immediately jumps back a few steps and darts back to my room to hide.

"Hey! How can you treat your cat like that?" I stand up and blame him.

"It threatened me. I warned it. That's all." Mr. Clapton spreads his hands to show he doesn't care.

"May I remind you, Mr. Clapton, cats are vindictive creatures." I kindly remind him.

"If he attacks me, that would be your dereliction of duty as a pet sitter." Mr. Clapton smiles.

I turn my head and roll my eyes, then pull a sachet of instant coffee out of the cupboard and pour it into a disposable paper cup.

"So, Mr. Clapton, you came here to see me on a Friday night just to drive your ex-girlfriend away and drink a cup of cheap coffee?" I ask while the kettle is boiling.

Previous Chapter
Next Chapter