Page 70 of Alpha-Ex Wedding Ruse
We stared each other down in taut, suffocating silence.
And after what felt like hours, he backed off, his lips curling into something that was half sneer, half disappointment.
“So, she still has that kind of pull on you,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “You’re pathetic, Luca. After what your mother did. After she left you. You still let yourself fall in love with another woman. They’re all the same. Why can’t you fucking see that?”
I stood slowly, letting my full height and power rise with me. My father may have always ruled every room he walked into, but I towered over him, and as I met his eyes, he had to look up.
“I don’t care what you say about me. But you don’t get to talk about her like that. Not in front of me.” It took everything in me to keep my tone even, but the warning was clear
He scoffed and stepped back, moving toward the minibar like he owned it. Like he owned everything. Because in his mind, he did. He owned the title, the name, the pack. And me. To him, I was just an extension of his power—bred, raised, and sculpted to serve it. Every decision I made, every thought I had—he believed he had the right to control it. To question it. To fix it.
“She’s a liability,” he said after a long pause, pouring himself a glass of my strongest gin. The words came out rough, like even he had to grit his teeth to say them. “She’s half werewolf, half fucking human. You think the pack will ever accept her as Luna?”
“I never said I was marrying her.”
“So what the hell do you want with her? What did you think Sterling Moreau was going to do when he saw you frolicking with that woman?” he sneered.
I didn’t answer.
But of course, he did.
“He’s been looking for an excuse to back out of this deal from day one. You think he trusts you? Especially with his daughter? No. And I get it—because you keep thinking with your cock, not your head.”
My fingers curled into fists inside my pockets. I stared past him, at nothing, at everything. Because I knew.
He was right. Not about the lust, not about the bullshit fantasy he’d built around me. But about the rest of it. The pack would never accept Leila as Luna. Not a woman like her. And Moreau…he wouldn’t hesitate to pull the plug the second things got complicated.
But what my father would never understand—what he could never wrap his head around—was that this thing with Leila? It wasn’t about lust. It wasn’t about rebellion. It was deeper. Primal. No matter how hard I tried to remind myself of the past, of what she did, this pull wouldn’t let go.
My wolf didn’t just want her. It needed her.
“I won’t say it again, Luca,” he continued, pouring the last of the gin down his throat. “Stay away from that woman. Whatever this is—end it. And do what’s required. You don’t have to love Elena. Just marry her.”
He turned and strode toward the door, flung it open. Then paused in the doorway. He didn’t look at me when he spoke next.
“I named you Alpha Heir of Manhattan Pack.” A beat of silence. “I can just as easily take that title away.”
And with that, he walked out. The door slammed shut behind him, echoing through the silence he left behind.
I didn’t move. I just watched the door like his presence hadn’t fully left with him.
A few minutes later, the door opened again. I thought it was my father, back with more venom to spit. But then in walked Charles.
“Your father just gave me the dirtiest look on the planet,” he said, eyeing me. “What happened? World War III?”
I scoffed and moved toward my room. I’d called Charles earlier to come pick up the hair samples—Ollie’s and mine. That day at the park, after Leila had stormed out, I’d crouched beside Ollie to tell him I’d go check on her. He gave a small nod, and as I stood to leave, I reached out to tuck one of his curls behind his ear. One strand clung to my fingers. I plucked it.
I returned to the living room and handed him the Ziplock bag.
“I’ve got another assignment for you,” I said.
He arched a brow. “What now?”
“Look into the name Blaze.”
“Blaze what?”
“No idea.”
