I’ve been avidly watching the clock since returning home. Neither Hugo nor any of the guards said a word about my absence, but they immediately took the grocery bags from my arms, insisting I shouldn't do any heavy lifting. I went straight to the kitchen afterward, hoping to finish my surprise before Sinclair returned and thereby counteract some of his displeasure at my sneaking out.

In my defense, it wasn't really sneaking. I waited until the guards were distracted, just in case they tried to stop me, but no one ever told me I wasn't allowed to leave. In fact, Sinclair said I was free to go where I wished. However, in hindsight, I imagine the Alpha wouldn't appreciate my absence—especially after yesterday's hospital visit.

I tried to focus on baking, rather than the scolding I'm sure to receive from Sinclair. I'm unsure how to handle this situation. It feels unfair to be in trouble for breaking rules I didn't know existed, but I'm afraid of angering Sinclair further by voicing my feelings.

This arrangement is making me feel completely bipolar. I'm constantly afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing and provoking Sinclair's temper, but I'm not used to censoring myself. Inevitably, the truth slips out, and then I worry I've ruined everything. I try to do damage control, probably appearing to have split personalities.

I don't know what to do. I should try to keep Sinclair happy to stay with my baby, but I don't know how long I can maintain this. I also don't understand Sinclair. He's the most confusing man I've ever met. I don't even recognize myself around him. One moment he's captivating, making me feel safer than ever, doing sweet, selfless things like helping Cora; the next, he's stomping around like a tyrant, ordering me about.

I'd just finished mixing the wet and dry ingredients in a large silver bowl when the door clicked open behind me, and Sinclair's familiar scent filled the room. Uh-oh.

Turning around, I saw him framed in the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest, a thunderous expression on his face.

"Welcome home?" I greeted him weakly, the statement sounding more like a question.

Sinclair's emerald eyes glowed as he studied me, his gaze raking over my body, making me squirm. "What do you have to say for yourself, Ella?"

"I'm making you a surprise," I explained, realizing this defeated the purpose. "Or I was—to thank you for helping Mike."

"You left the estate," he growled, striding forward. "You didn't tell anyone you were leaving or where you were going."

"I was perfectly safe," I replied feebly. "I went to see your father."

"You just got out of the hospital yesterday," Sinclair rumbled. "You shouldn't be carrying groceries or taking long walks, especially without guards."

"Dominic, you never told me I needed guards or that I had to run my plans by you first," I countered, trying to remain calm.

"Because I thought it was common sense!" he exclaimed. "Ella, you know how crazy the media coverage has been, and I don't go anywhere without guards—and I'm much bigger and stronger than you. What if something had happened? We wouldn't have known where to look for you!"

"I was just trying to do something nice!" I exclaimed, fighting back tears. "I never agreed to be a prisoner here."

"Don't be so dramatic," Sinclair scoffed. "No one's saying you're a prisoner. But you're a public figure now, and you're in a delicate condition. We're talking about basic precautions and keeping me informed. I need to know where you are and that you're safe and not taking risks!"

"Carrying a few bags of sugar is hardly a risk!" I argued, suppressing some choice words. "I'm not so delicate that I need a constant babysitter. You forget I was on my own for thirty years before you, and I did just fine!"

"Oh right, so fine that a bottom-dwelling asshole bankrupted and betrayed you for years!" Sinclair snapped.

"That isn't fair," I retorted, my voice thick with emotion. "Don't blame me for what Mike did!"

"I'm not," he sighed, regretting his statement. "But if you were vulnerable to scum like him in the human world, you're five times as vulnerable among shifters. You don't know how dangerous it is out there!"

"And how am I supposed to know if you don't tell me?" I demanded. "How am I supposed to know I'm breaking your ridiculous rules if you don't tell me what they are?"

"They aren't ridiculous, they're for your own safety!" Sinclair gritted out.

"That didn't answer my question," I remarked, narrowing my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Ella. I didn't expect you to go gallivanting around town when you're barely recovered! I thought you'd come to me if you needed something," he gritted out, his jaw ticking in annoyance.

"I don't want to have to come to you every time I want to leave the house!" I cried. "I don't like having to rely on others for things I'm capable of doing myself."

"You mean you don't trust other people," Sinclair corrected, cutting to the quick. "You feel safer doing everything yourself, and you don't know how to ask for help—let alone believe anyone will help you."

He'd somehow figured that out. He wasn't wrong—I'd always preferred to do everything myself because I'd learned I'm the only person I can rely on. But I'd never told anyone. "I meant what I said," I insisted, stubbornly jutting my chin up.

"I understand better than you think, Ella," Sinclair said, softening his tone. "But you're supposed to be avoiding stress."

"What's stressing me out is you yelling at me!" I accused, tears burning in my eyes. "I was just trying to do something nice; I didn't know it would upset anyone!"

"Come on, now," Sinclair admonished. "At least be honest—you couldn't have gotten out of this house unseen without trying."

"Or maybe your guards aren't as on top of things as you think they are," I retorted.

Sinclair narrowed his eyes. "You managed to ditch guards specifically assigned to you, Ella."

"What?" I squeaked. "Why do you have guards assigned to me?"

"Because you're pregnant with my pup!" he growled. "Because I have enemies who would target you, which you know."

"Or maybe it's because you're an invasive, overprotective ass!" I exploded. "You haven't stopped bossing me around since I arrived!"

Sinclair's eyes flashed dangerously. He prowled toward me, and I backed away until I hit the cabinets, wondering if I'd pushed him too far. "Careful, Ella," he warned, looming over me. He braced his hands on the counter, pinning me. He ducked his head, his face inches from mine. I felt his power and authority. "I've given you leeway because you don't know our ways, but if you keep speaking to me like that, I won't be accountable for my actions."

My knees turned to jelly, but this fear was different. I didn't believe he'd hurt me, especially since I'm carrying his pup. His threat felt different—darkly sensual. I was suddenly curious to see what he'd do if I kept pushing him. I was tempted to test him, to see how far I could push my luck. "Fine," I hissed. "I won't speak to you that way. I'll show you instead."

I grabbed a handful of flour. Before I could think better of it, I threw it in his face.