Page 64 of Alpha-Ex Wedding Ruse
“This shabby apartment, Luca, is my home. Mine. And Ollie’s. And you don’t get to stand here and insult it just because your life is wrapped in glass towers and leather seats and chauffeurs.”
“This isn’t just about money, Leila,” he groaned, frustration edging into his voice. “I’m trying to help you.”
“And I didn’t ask for your help!” My voice cracked, volume rising despite every effort to stay calm. “I don’t want your pity. I don’t want your charity. I don’t want anything from you.”
“You say that,” he whispered harshly, “but your body says something else.”
My heart stuttered.
“I feel it, Leila. Every time we’re near. The tension. The pull. I feel something crack open in me the second you walk into a room. Your scent wraps around me like a fucking blanket I shouldn’t want, but I do. My wolf won’t stop pacing, growling, clawing at me to get closer. To have you.” His voice was rough and hungry. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too.”
I froze.
His chest was rising and falling like he’d just run ten miles. Mine wasn’t much better.
For a second, neither of us spoke. The room pulsed with everything unsaid.
Then he seemed to realize what he’d said, what he’d let slip. He stepped back, dragging a hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he muttered. Like the word could undo what had already shattered between us.
And maybe I should’ve felt something other than this dizzy ache in my chest. Maybe I should’ve screamed at him again. Pushed him out. Told him to go to hell. But instead, all I could think was…he feels it too.
I wasn’t the only one going insane trying to bury the emotions that never died, trying to pretend I didn’t still want something from a man who once broke me.
I sucked in a breath and stepped back, putting space between us like it might save me from myself. “You have to leave now, Luca.”
“Fuck, Leila—that’s it? That’s what you have to say?”
“What the hell do you want me to say?” My hands flew up, helpless and furious. “Do you want me to admit that I feel it too? That every time I see you, I get these goddamn butterflies in my stomach? Fine! There! I said it. But tell me, Luca, what would that change? Would it magically erase everything? Would it change the fact that you’re getting married in three weeks?”
Silence.
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just stared at me like the words knocked the air out of him.
I bit my lip and gave a small nod. “Exactly what I thought.”
“Leila—”
I lifted a hand, cutting him off before he could say anything that would make it harder to breathe.
“No thanks for your ‘generous’ offer to resurrect my long-lost dreams or help me upgrade from my so-called shabby apartment. But if I wasn’t clear the first time, I don’t want your help. You need to stop showing up like this. You can’t keep walking into my life and trying to unravel everything I’ve stitched back together.” My voice trembled, but I didn’t stop. “I forbid you from coming to my house again. Or anywhere near me or my son. Ever. We need to keep things professional now, because, in case you’ve forgotten, I’m planning your wedding.”
I pressed a hand to my face, dragging in one shaky breath. Then another.
“You need to leave, Luca,” I said again, quieter this time. “Please.”
I didn’t wait. I walked to the door and opened it.
“And take your folder with you. I’m not interested.”
He stared at me for fifteen seconds, maybe more. I saw it all in that look. The storm in his eyes. The sharp edge of regret. His jaw flexed like he had a hundred things to say. But he didn’t say a single word.
He just picked up the folder, turned around, and walked out.
It was another Saturday.I always looked forward to these days as Ollie and I got to spend time at the park, away from the house, just the two of us, breathing easier, laughing louder. Our little ritual. The park was filled with its usual weekend energy—families spreading blankets for picnics as children’s laughter echoing from the playground.
“Mommy, why don’t you like Uncle Luca?”
The question slapped the air right out of my lungs.
