Page 42 of Alpha-Ex Wedding Ruse
Then it clicked. This was why Luca brought me here. Not for a meeting. Not to talk about the wedding.
To punish me. To humiliate me. To make me a spectacle—something for the city to whisper about.
If any small part of me had still believed that Luca cared, even a little, this had shattered it. Now I knew exactly where I stood.
I shot up, the tremor in my limbs now fueled by rage.
But before I could move, Luca did. He turned toward the voices, slow and deliberate. The look he gave them was cold enough to silence them. It was a death glare so sharp it sliced through the noise. The whispers died instantly, like someone had cut the cord.
“I have to go, Mr. Vaughn,” I said through gritted teeth. “We’ll reschedule this meeting, preferably with your fiancée present.”
I began packing up my things.
That’s when he made the mistake. He touched my wrist. And I flinched like I’d been electrocuted.
I stumbled back, the heat of his skin still burning my flesh like fire. Tears hit my cheeks before I even realized I was crying.
“Don’t,” I whispered, voice broken. “Don’t you ever touch me again, Luca.”
I shoved everything into my bag. He didn’t stop me this time. He just stood there, watching, silent, as I turned and walked out of that cafe—fleeing the wreckage of a love that still had the power to ruin me.
Chapter Ten
Leila’s POV
Five years ago
Victor seeing us that day had changed everything. I’d caught the flicker in his eyes—something sharp, almost wounded. But he didn’t say a word. He just closed the door and left like it was none of his business. Immediately after Victor left, I’d pushed Luca away and ran out of his office, hoping that would be the first and last time Luca and I ever got into a “compromising” situation. But then he’d shown up in my house that night, and we’d gone well over the edge of “compromising”. And just like that, everything had changed.
Somehow, news of us being an “item” spread throughout the office. The tension at work became unbearable. Meetings grew quieter when I walked in. Eyes lingered. Whispers followed me through hallways like smoke. Then came the photos. A grainy shot of Luca dropping me off outside my building. Another of us was exiting the Elvis cafe. A third one—his hand on the small of my back—tagged “Alpha’s Heir Vaughn’s Mystery Woman?”
Luca didn’t hide it. Not even a little.
He told Charles to “clear the calendar” for our weekends. I should’ve been terrified. Maybe I was. But it was like he’d made adecision—that if anyone had a problem with me by his side, they could choke on it. He made no apologies for having me by his side—not as his employee, but as his Mate. His choice. His claim.
“Excuse me,” I said, running toward the subway train that had already announced its impending departure. I squeezed through the closing doors, and it wasn’t until I’d caught my breath and settled in that I noticed all the eyes on me.
The woman sitting across from me kept staring. And not in the, oh, you look familiar way. No. This was something colder. To my side, another woman held her phone like a weapon, angled just enough to take a picture without asking.
I adjusted my coat, pulling it tighter around myself. The flash of the camera went off. Subtle. But I saw it. I also heard the whispers. That’s her? I expected more. Shouldn’t she have a car? Why is she taking the subway?
I said nothing. I just kept my chin up. I focused on the dark tunnel beyond the window, and let it drown out the sound of their whispers.
My relationship with Luca had been a trending topic in Manhattan for the last few months.
Although I’d been uncomfortable with the attention at first, I’d started to slowly get used to it. Luca made it a point to take me to every high-class pack event in Manhattan—dinners with continental delegates, and “casual” date nights at five-star restaurants I’d only ever dreamt of visiting.
I never would’ve taken him for the type of man who indulged in public displays of affection. I’d never once seen him photographed with a woman, unlike the other billionaires and rich Betas who seemed to fill Buzzfeed’s headlines weekly with scandalous affairs.
But whenever Luca and I walked together, he held me. Around the waist. On the small of my back. Always keeping me close—like being even a centimeter away from him might unravel the whole damn world.
He never hesitated to kiss me in public. And when I once asked him why, he told me it wasn’t about affection. Hell, the man didn’t even know what PDA meant. He said he did it to mark his territory. Thatnight, when he claimed me in bed, he made sure to reiterate exactly what he meant by that: I was his. His and his alone.
Of course, this so-called public affection—this territorial claiming—came with layers of complications. Many of them unpleasant. Suddenly, I was on every pack media outlet page. Every time I stepped out—especially on the subway—someone would recognize me. The stares came like heat waves. What does he see in that bitch? kind of stares.
Luca offered to get me a personal driver. Someone to take me to and from work, and anywhere else I needed, just to shield me from the gossip and secondhand embarrassment.
But I refused. I didn’t want it to seem like I was taking advantage of his wealth, or his attention. That wasn’t why I loved him. Far from it.
