The Alpha King Call Boy: Chap 47-128

Alexander

“I thought some more about your idea,” I told Fiona as we sat down at the dinner table. “I’m going to talk with Conrad about it later this week.”

She smiled. A real smile. “That’s excellent. I’m happy to hear it.”

“I like your plan about doing an interview, too. I wanted to ask your thoughts about which publication might be best. You’re better read in this industry than I am.”

Fiona loved this topic. She began to enumerate her favorite finance magazines, even recalling the names of a couple writers whose interviews she had read and felt offered thorough, balanced perspectives.

I had forgotten to put my phone on silent.

It began to ring.

“I’m so sorry. Let me just turn it off.”

Of course, it was Iris. I silenced the call, switched my phone to vibrate, and returned it to my pocket.

Fiona did not resume what she had been saying.

Instead she turned her focus to her meal.

I wasn’t sure what to say. More promises that I was going to get Iris to stop interrupting our dates were null and void if none ever proved to be true.

The vibration in my pocket told me Iris was calling back again.

Fiona heard the faint noise. “Answer it, please,” she instructed me quietly. “Just see what she wants.”

I walked toward the door as I brought my phone back out and picked up the call.

“Iris, why are you calling me right now? I am in the middle of dinner with Fiona.”

Her breath, noisy in the speaker, was ragged and panicked. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice quivering.

“But something’s happened. I… I have to show you something. Please come quick. Something happened earlier tonight, with Fiona.”

I froze. Completely turned into a statue. The final words of that last sentence were ominous.

“What are you talking about, Iris?”

“Please,” she whimpered, “just come to my room and you’ll see.”

Fiona was picking at her food distractedly when I returned to the table.

“So?” she asked. “Everything alright?”

“I honestly don’t know. She was not making much sense. She’s very upset.”

Fiona’s eyebrow arched lazily. “And what does she want from you?”

“She asked me to come by her room. Said she wants to show me something.”

Now, Fiona’s mouth curled into an amused smile.

“Wants to show you something? In her bedroom?”

I ran a hand down my face. “I don’t think it’s anything like that.”

My Luna’s face turned serious as she picked up on my energy. “Look, if you’re really worried about her, just go.”

“I hate leaving you like this in the middle of our time together.”

“Well, I’m not very hungry anyway.” She pushed her chair back and rose to stand. “Go check on Iris. I’ll go take a bath.”

I walked Fiona back to our room and thanked her for understanding before I left. She shook her head dismissively, as if to say it was no big deal. I knew, though, that it was.

When Iris opened the door to her room, she had a bleeding injury.

Three very fresh parallel scratch marks running the length of her neck.

“Iris, what happened?!”

She was wild-eyed and panting for breath. “She just attacked me, Alexander. I hardly did anything to make her so mad.”

My vision started tunneling. I was understanding everything all at once and everything I was understanding was horrible.

“Iris. Tell me where you got those scratches.”

“I ran into Fiona by accident a little bit ago. She got so mad, said I wasn’t respecting her space and privacy.

She just reached out and grabbed me! Those long fingernails of hers scratched me.”

I turned on my heel and walked away, down the hall.

I was furious.

“Alexander! Aren’t you listening to me? Didn’t you hear what I just told you?”

Against my better judgment, my legs whisked me back to face Iris where she stood in the open doorway. “I heard you,” I said firmly, “and I don’t believe you. Fiona would never do something like that.”

“Then who did this to me, huh? Who?!”

The answer to that was very clear. The scratch marks on Iris’s skin looked obviously self-inflicted. Made with the fingers of the right hand pulling downward on the left side of the neck.

“I’m calling the doctor.” I turned again and walked away, this time going farther down one of the nearby hallways.

I got the doctor on the phone and told her everything.

She was heading into Iris’s room and closing the door behind her just as I rounded the corner back into that corridor.

I couldn’t bring myself to go inside. I waited outside Iris’s door for several minutes until it swung open again and the doctor popped her head out, apparently looking for me.

She stepped out into the hall, closed the door, and motioned for me to follow as she made for a white marble bench about five yards down the hall.

The doctor, a small woman in her late sixties, grunted

as she seated herself on the hard bench. “I cleaned and treated the injury,” she said quietly. “The scratches were very shallow, no need for stitches or anything like that.”

“Did she tell you a story too, or did she admit that she did it to herself?”

The doctor sighed. “She admitted that it was self-inflicted.”

I drew in a very deep inhale. Let it out as slow as I could.

I asked the doctor, “Will you wait here just a moment?”

“Of course.”

Iris didn’t look up as I entered the room. She was in

her unmade bed, curled into a ball with her knees pressed under her chin. Her neck was now covered in clean white bandages.

I folded my arms across my chest. “Why did you do this, Iris?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Iris…” I was lost for words for a moment. But then some came to me. “What the fuck?! Why would you make something like this up? How could you do something like that?”

She began to cry. “I don’t know,” she said again. “I’m so sorry. I was just so upset after I saw her. She makes me feel so small and stupid.”

“Stop.” My voice was loud. It hit the walls and reverberated, making the air in the room feel

unstable. “This is unacceptable. I won’t have you speaking ill of Fiona, in any way, ever again. Do you understand me?”

Iris nodded desperately. She was still holding herself in a ball, still crying, still not looking at me.

There was no logic available in this place right now.

There was no use standing here and asking Iris to make any sense.

I met the doctor outside again. She was waiting patiently on her bench.

“People who engage in self-injury,” the woman was eager to tell me, “are at high risk of harming themselves again. With her pain issues, though, I’m a bit hesitant to offer her any kind of medication that might—”

The doctor probably would have gone on for a while if I’d let her.

“I can’t go back in there,” I interrupted. “Go ahead and talk to her about whatever you want her to do. I’ll call you in the morning and I’ll check on her after that.

After I’ve cooled down.”

I didn’t wait for a reply.

I was going back to Fiona.