Emma's POV

　　I look at the mirror after changing into the clothes Charlotte brought me. The white lacy top fits me perfectly, not being too tight or too loose. The black slacks are also comfortable.

　　"Do you like it?" Charlotte asks me while standing behind me with a knowing smile on her face.

　　"Yeah, it's amazing. Thank you," I reply, and turn around to face her, "How did you know my size? I didn't tell you anything."

　　She shrugs, "I am good at these things."

　　My lips purse. She is too good at it. It's like she knows a lot more than she speaks.

　　Charlotte walks over to her door, and calls someone. Seconds later, Matthew walks in and the little bit of smile I had on my face from looking at my new clothes was gone. The fight I had with him earlier flashes back into my head. He is a total alphahole with no manners. How is he related to Charlotte who is so sweet and nice?

　　Matthews's intense gaze falls on me, and his eyes do a quick once-over before looking away. My cheeks heat up, feeling a little self-conscious. He has seen me half-exposed in a damn towel! How am I supposed to deal with this embarrassment? Even Michael hasn't seen me that intimately like he did.

　　Remembering Michael made my chest squeeze in pain, and I brush my hand over my neck where his mark was once. Matthews seems to notice my movement as he scrutinizes me, and I feel uncomfortable under his gaze. Maybe he is judging me for being rejected by Michael.

　　"Um, I think I should leave. Thanks for your help, Charlotte," I say, and take a step forward when she speaks.

　　"But I want to hear a bedtime story." Both Matthews, and I stare at her with a questioning look.

　　"I can tell you one, Lotte." Matthews says, and I stifle a chuckle. Him reciting a bedtime story? I just can't imagine his stiff, stone-like face and trying to enact the story to Charlotte in his deep voice. It makes my shoulders shake with laughter.

　　Matthews throws me a sharp gaze, "What's so funny?"

　　"Nothing. Just remembered a joke," I give him an innocent smile, and he huffs, looking back to his sister.

　　"No! I want Emma to tell me a bedtime story," she turns to me with a bright look in her eyes.

　　I point at myself as if in disbelief, "Me? I–I am not sure if I can. I am not good at it," My fingers fidget nervously.

　　"That's fine. You just have to sit beside me, and recite the story." Charlotte replies, and I turn tense.

　　"You don't understand. I don't really know how to do it," I respond, and look at the window. It has gotten dark outside.

　　"I have never heard a bedtime story before. No one was there to tell me at night. Mom passed away when I was five, and dad was always busy handling the pack matters. So I don't know how it sounds or how it feels. To have someone tell you a story when you sleep. "Charlotte does not pay attention to my words, and is already rummaging through her shelf.

　　She picks out a book, and sits on her knees on the bed, "I really want you to do it. Please?" she insists, and I can't help but smile at her pleading look. That look is too lethal because it's too cute. I am sure she has everyone wrapped around her fingers with that look.

　　"Alright," I walk over to her bed, and am about to sit on the edge when Matthews places his hand on the bed. My brows furrow, and I look at him.

　　He stares at me, and pulls his hand back. Is he hesitant about me sitting close to his sister?

　　"Sit here," Charlotte pats her hand on the mattress beside her, and I slip inside.

　　Once we get comfortable, I ask her, "Which story do you want me to read?"

　　She hands me the book she was holding onto before, and I look at its cover. The Lion King.

　　"Okay," I flip open the book, "In the—"

　　A screeching noise stops me from reading. It's Matthews dragging the stool across the floor. He takes a seat, his large body barely fitting onto the small seat and looks at us, "What?"

　　I shake my head, and focus my gaze back on the book. "In the heart of the African savannah, the sun rises over the vast plains, casting its golden light across the land," I recite. Charlotte listens intently while laying her head on her pillow, and holding a bear plushie close to her chest. Matthews stays silent, and I feel his gaze on me.

　　As I keep reading, I feel engrossed into the plot, and subconsciously enact their expressions when they speak. Time seems to slow down, and the duvet that Charlotte placed over my waist feels warm and cozy. This is relaxing.

　　"And so, with the courage of a true king, Simba reclaimed his rightful place in the Circle of Life," I conclude, "Did you like the story—"

　　"Hush!" Matthews places a finger on his lips, and my gaze falls on the sleeping figure of Charlotte. She looks so peaceful, her little chest rising and falling as she breathes. Unlike the other times, she really looks like a child, innocent and oblivious of the darkness around the world. I feel the urge to caress her head but I refrain myself from touching her. Her sleeping figure makes me feel at peace.