Page 57 of Alpha-Ex Wedding Ruse
“So, what do you think of the designs?” Karl Zen asked. He was grinning like an idiot, beaming as if he’d just handed me something revolutionary.
“I personally shortlisted these,” he added. “They’re some of the best I’ve come across. With these, we have a real shot at winning the Alpha’s Grand Summit contract.”
I didn’t respond. I just reached for the folder and flipped through it without any real interest.
“You say these are the best you’ve come across?” I muttered.
He bobbed his head eagerly. “Yes, sir.”
I tossed the folder back at him. “These are average at best.”
The grin slid clean off his face.
Unbelievable. This was my head of design. This position had been between him and Leila five years ago, and she was going to get it. Not out of sentiment, but out of merit. She was that good. But he got it instead because of…what had happened.
Regret twisted low in my gut.
The best design I’d ever seen came from Leila. What he just showed me didn’t even come close.
“I could tell the team to redo the—” Karl started, voice shaky.
I raised a hand. He shut up.
“Don’t bother,” I said coldly. “You and your team aren’t capable of producing anything good enough to win at the Grand Summit.”
But I know who could.
Before I could rethink the decision, I said, “We’re opening submissions. A select few candidates only. And by ‘select few’, I mean one. A candidate of my choosing.”
“Get me the requirements for the design. I want it on my desk by tomorrow morning.”
Karl’s mouth opened, then shut again. He simply went with the wise choice to nod.
“In the meantime,” I added, “you and your team should sit down and figure out why I should keep you on payroll when all you deliver is mediocrity.”
His face went pale. He scrambled to collect the folder and scurried out of my office.
I leaned back in my chair, feeling a wave of confidence wash over me. I could win this contract if I brought Leila on board.
Chapter Thirteen
Leila’s POV
“I have never seena man frown so hard during his own wedding photoshoot. Goodness,” Valerie said, swiping through her phone. “He looks like someone forced him to chew a lemon.”
It was out.
The news of Luca and Elena’s engagement.
I’d woken up at three a.m. to a storm of notifications buzzing on my phone. Every media outlet, every blog, every gossip site was reporting on it. The Alpha Heir of the Manhattan Pack is getting married to the Bronx Alpha’s daughter. Photos were already circulating everywhere.
Some called it a perfect match.
Some called her the perfect Luna.
All of them sang the same song—glowing headlines, glowing bride, glowing future.
And me?
