The Alpha's Missing Mate

Chapter 28

28.

Angel peered around her surroundings in awe. A soft glowing light seemed to emanate from every crevice of the room she was in, illuminating the glorious setting she found herself in. There were plush, overstuffed chairs of crushed velvet in a soft gold scattered around her, accompanied by the thickest, softest carpet she sank her toes into. Beside the chairs were side tables in a beautiful cherry finish that seemed to gleam in the soft lighting, vases filled with the most delicious smelling flowers gracing them. The cream panelled walls held paintings of cherubs from masters of the Renaissance. She glanced at the gilt edged ceiling and noticed what she thought was a reproduction of Michelangelo's ceiling in the Sistine Chapel. She felt her jaw drop open in awe and her eyes fill with tears as she took in the beauty of the room.

The only thing that seemed out of place was a huge painting of a thin man with curly brown hair and beard and mustache. He had a mischievous twinkle to his eyes and a secretive grin on his face. A plaque on the frame simply said "CHUCK".

"Hello, dear," a soft melodic voice called out from behind her, and Angel spun around, noticing a small woman standing right behind her. A small from creased Angel's brow as she wondered where the woman had come from. She wasn't there just a minute ago.

"Uh, hi..." Angel said in return, studying the woman. She was short, around five foot, three inches tall in height, and very petite. Angel would guess the woman didn't even weigh ninety pounds. Her peaches and cream complexion had a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, highlighting her violet colored eyes. The soft lighting of the room fell onto her light auburn hair making it look as if she had a halo around her as it fell to her shoulders in loose waves. Despite her small stature, the woman exuded authority. She was dressed in a cream colored pant suit and Angel wondered who she was.

"Please, have a seat, and your visitors will be right with you, Angel. They've been waiting for a very long time to meet you, dear," the woman said with a smile, motioning to the chairs around the room.

"How do you know my name? And what visitors?" Angel asked as she looked around. That was when she noticed the room she was standing in didn't seem to have any doors. "What? Where's the door? What's going on here?" She turned around to ask the woman, but the she was gone.

Angel spun around in a circle, trepidation slithering up her spine as confusion filled the pit of her stomach. What was going on? Where was she? And WHAT VISITORS? These thoughts kept tripping over themselves in her mind as she raced to one side of the room and ran her hands over the walls. There were no hidden latches, no levers, no indication of a hidden door anywhere.

"I was facing the other direction when the woman disappeared, so the door has to be on this side of the room!" She muttered to herself. She was so engrossed in searching for what she was sure was a hidden door, like the one in Robert's closet, that she didn't even notice as the older couple appeared behind her. A soft gasp was the only indication she was no longer by herself.

Angel spun around at the sound, a slight feeling of shock creeping over her as she realized that she had been caught unaware. The woman who had gasped was staring intently at her, studying her. The man by her side was blinking rapidly, trying desperately to keep the tears filling his eyes from spilling over. Neither one of the people before her looked familiar, and she had no idea who they were.

"Oh, Duncan," the woman breathed out. "She looks just like Rebecca did at her age!"

The man, Duncan, squeezed the woman's shoulder as he nodded at her observation.

"Who are you two? How do you know my mother?" Angel asked as she studied them both. The man was slightly heavy, but not in the way that seemed like he was overweight, but in that way that strong, virile men tend to become after they've become less active with age. He had short, closely cropped white hair that covered half of his head, and a neat trimmed beard and mustache, and his blue eyes were still piercing, even at his age. He looked to be in his late sixties, maybe early seventies, but he still had a proud bearing to his shoulders, like he wasn't quite ready to hit the retirement home. He wasn't tall, maybe five foot, eleven, but he dwarfed the woman beside him.