Page 19 of Bully Alpha's Pregnant Mate

As Alec saunters off, probably more pleased with himself than he has any right to be, the woman behind the counter watches him go with an amused smile on her face.

“Quite the catch, isn’t he?” she says.

“Sure,” I mutter, turning back to her. “If you’re into that whole infuriating, smug, alpha thing.”

She chuckles, handing me a stack of papers with the hours and job requirements. “Well, whatever he is, it’s obvious he thinks the world of you. Why else would he come in here so often lately?”

I frown. “Lately?”

“Oh, yes. Ever since the wedding.” She winks, her tone filled with that conspiratorial warmth older women seem to love. “Usually, he just stops by every month or so, but lately? At least once every couple of days. He mentioned something about the new luna having a love for books. I think he expected to find you here eventually.”

I feel a blush creep into my cheeks. It’s not like I didn’t know Alec could be persistent, but hearing it from someone else… it’s different.

“Anyway,” she says, patting my hand, “I’ll see you tomorrow? First day on the job?”

I nod, swallowing my irritation and the flutter of something else I can’t quite name. “Yeah. First day.”

As I leave the store, job secured and an unexpected date on the horizon, a sense of determination fills me. Alec Thornton may think he’s calling the shots, but tomorrow night? I’m the one who’ll be holding all the cards.

Chapter 9 - Alec

Dinner with my new wife should’ve felt like a step in the right direction. A chance to start fresh, clear the air, build… something.

So far, it’s felt about as friendly as a high-stakes negotiation.

We’re seated at this little Italian place just outside East Hills. Warm lighting, candles on every table, music that’s soft and pleasant but not overly romantic. The place itself is nice—small but cozy, with the kind of ambiance that usually puts people at ease. Not tonight, though. Our table might as well be a battlefield.

I glance across the table, watching Isadora sip her fourth glass of vodka and soda for the night. Her fingers tap against the glass, and her gaze stays fixed on the wall like she’s hoping the night will end if she ignores me long enough.

“So,” I say, leaning back, “are you planning on actually talking tonight? Or is the silent treatment part of the date package?”

She doesn’t even glance my way. “No one asked you to sit there and watch me drink.”

I sigh. “You know, I thought this was supposed to be fun. We could actually talk, relax a little.”

She huffs, stirs the ice in her glass, and gives me a look that’s half amused, half irritated. “Relax. Right. Like this whole marriage was supposed to be fun?”

Alright, so she’s on the defensive. But it’s not like I haven’t tried to meet her halfway.

I take a deep breath, trying to keep my voice even. “Well, we could start by trying.”

She lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Trying? You’re hilarious, Alec. Do you honestly think one nice dinner will change everything?”

Her tone isn’t exactly friendly, and I feel my patience start to thin. “Maybe it’s a start. Better than you giving me the cold shoulder all night.”

“You’re the one who’s pretending this isn’t all just a show,” she says, eyes dropping to the menu she’s barely looked at. “So maybe don’t act like we’re here for some real date.”

It’s like she’s bracing for me to bite back, to make some snide comment that’ll confirm whatever it is she’s expecting. But I stay silent, watching her. I’m not about to let her ruin tonight with whatever wall she’s trying to build.

“So you’d rather keep up this act?” I ask, trying to meet her gaze. “Pretend that we can’t even talk?”

She finally looks up, and her blue eyes flash a brighter shade. “It’s not an act, Alec. I know exactly what you think of me. So spare me the effort of pretending.”

I crack my knuckles under the table. I didn’t come here to argue, but she’s practically inviting it. “Oh, really?” I lean forward, narrowing my eyes. “Why don’t you go ahead and tell me what I think, Isadora?”

She gives a dry laugh. “I know what this is, Alec. This whole nice-guy routine, pretending you care about me, when really you’re just waiting for the chance to show me what a mistake I am.”

The waitress interrupts, setting down two plates of tiramisu and a bottle of red wine I ordered earlier. I thank her,watching Isadora take a piece of bread and study it like it holds the answers to life’s mysteries.

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