THE ALPHA KING'S MATE ( BOOK)

CHAPTER 6

Excited to go through her things, Jillian ate her lunch quickly, then headed to the closet to change. She spied all of her clothes hanging up and grabbed a hoodie and some jeans, slipped them on, and then sat on the floor and opened a box. She smiled as she saw her photos.

She would start by hanging those up. She was grateful that someone had brought her everything from her room, and from the storage closet in the hallway of her house. Her parents must have told the men where her things were.

She picked up the box and put it onto her bed, then looked around at the walls. There were a few paintings hanging up, but she didn’t like them. They were boring modern ones. She hated modern art, it was so ugly. She stood on the bed and pulled a picture down, and then the other one on the east wall.

She set them next to the door, to send somewhere. She then opened the French doors that led to a balcony. She walked out and smiled. The balcony sat above a large lawn and a very large swimming pool. She would have to try that out later.

She  stepped back into her room, leaving the doors open, and walked to the phone. She picked it up, not sure what number to dial. So she hit 0. It rang once.

“Yes Luna?” came the response. It was Emerson.

“Um, Emerson, I wanted to hang up some pictures. Can I get some command strips or some thumb tacks or something?”

“I’ll see what we have and bring you some, okay?”

“Thanks, Emerson.”

“No problem Luna,” he said and hung up.

She laid her pictures out on her bed. She had several of her and her parents from their many trips around the world. She had to admit even though she had been in several different schools she had a background that no one else had.

She had been to Egypt, Germany, Mexico, Australia, Russia, the Bahamas, the Virgin Islands, and to Africa. She still needed to add South America to her list. She still wanted to go there, and to France of course. France was such a romantic place, at least she had heard it was. She picked up each picture, smiling at the memories.

A knock sounded on her door.

“Come in,” Jillian said.

Her door opened and Emerson walked in with a couple of packages.

“I found both thumb tacks and command strips,” he said, handing them to her, and then stopped when he saw all of her photos.

“Wow. You have been to a lot of places, even the Kremlin?”

“I have.”

“How was it? I have always wanted to visit.”

“Go during the middle of summer. The winters are killer,” she grinned.

“So I have heard.” He then picked up each photo.

“These are amazing Jillian. I am so jealous of you right now,” he chuckled.

“My parents took me everywhere. I haven’t been to South America, and I would like to go there. I also would like to go to Paris.”

“Paris is overrated,” he said, picking up a photo she had taken in the Virgin Islands. She was standing in front of a sailboat, a look of pure bliss on her face.

“You look happy here,” he stated.

“Why is Paris overrated?” Jillian asked, ignoring his statement.

“Oh, I have been there a few times on pack business. It is too touristy. On every street corner is someone selling some type of souvenir, and you should see the base of the Eiffel Tower. You can barely make it through there without someone trying to sell you some trinket.”