Alpha-Ex Wedding Ruse (Knocked Up & Claimed #2)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Leila’s POV

Three things are inevitable in life: death, taxes, and for me, debt. While everyone could talk fondly about the things they inherited from their parents—trust funds, lake houses, old world charm—I stayed quiet. I didn’t get any of that.

What I inherited was a funeral bill. Numbers written in red ink. The kind of red that stains, that sticks to your name long after you’ve tried to move on. My father left me with nothing but memories I didn’t ask for and a pile of “I owe yous” signed in desperation.

I let out a deep sigh as I pulled out sheet after sheet of white paper, each one stained in red ink. When I’d heard mail was arriving from my father’s house in Manhattan, I’d expected to see sympathy letters. Maybe some leftover subscriptions. Official documents at worst. Not this. Not bills.

My Economics professor once said that debt was like dancing with a devil who always wants more. I never understood it then. Not until after my father’s death.

I needed a drink. I headed to the kitchen, pulled the lone bottle of Merlot from the cabinet, and poured myself a glass. If I was about to take a long dance with the devil by sorting through these bills, I needed something strong to help me get through it.

I settled into one of the dining room table’s chairs and continued tearing open envelope upon envelope until one stopped me cold.

It was an eviction notice for my father’s house, the house I’d grown up in. The rent was nearly a year overdue at almost exactly the same time my father had died. Which meant he’d stopped paying the rent well before he died. Because he couldn’t.

A note was attached to the notice ordering him to either pay the rent or come collect the rest of the property in the house. I had a few weeks. That was it.

I felt a mix of emotions at the thought of losing the house. It had been the perfect place for someone like me, a half breed. Far enough away from the full shifters. Distant from the humans. Right in between. Just like me. It was the only place I’d ever felt like I almost belonged.

I was yanked out of my dance with the devil and dragged down memory lane.

Memories of birthdays with store-bought cakes and paper crowns.

Sleepovers with the only friend I ever had.

The night I lost my virginity. I took another sip of my wine as I let my thoughts travel back to that night.

My wolf stirred, uneasy. Not at the memory itself—but at the ache beneath it.

My father had been away for a business trip for a few days.

I’d just gotten home from work, soaked in rain and frustration—both courtesy of him.

Nothing I did ever seemed to be enough. Not even the presentation—which, for the record, I was doing for the third time—had satisfied him.

I’d sacrificed sleep for that one, worked through the night, and still, he found fault in it, even when everyone else sang its praises.

And that kiss…it had been a mistake. A huge, reckless mistake. But God, in that moment, it had felt like exactly what I needed—right in the wrongest way possible.

I wanted nothing more than to have a hot shower, slip under the sheets and sleep off the frustration.

But then I heard the doorbell ring. For a second, I thought my father had decided to cut his business trip short and come home early.

Instead, when I opened the front door, I found him standing there.

Rain was clinging to his well-tailored dress shirt.

I froze. Not just because he was there, but because he knew where I lived.

Because he showed up at all. He was my boss.

And more than that, he was the Alpha heir to the Manhattan pack.

It was a title that carried weight, commanded respect, and it meant he had no business being on my doorstep.

“You didn’t answer your phone,” he said, like I was supposed to come running at his beck and call whenever he asked for me.

I shot him a glare. “It’s past work hours. I don’t have to.”

He took a step closer, and my breath hitched. “I’m your boss. It was not a suggestion. And I don’t appreciate being ignored.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Then maybe a boss shouldn’t be kissing his employee in his office.”

“But you enjoyed it.” A slow, wicked smile tugged at his lips. “Your entire body melted in my arms. You practically surrendered your mouth to me, wanting me to devour it, enjoying every filthy second of how I kissed you, how I touched you.”

My breath hitched at the sheer audacity and raw intensity of his words. And God help me, heat pooled between my thighs. He was right. Damn him for being so infuriatingly right. I had enjoyed it, far more than I cared to admit. And even right now, I still wanted him.

“Get out of my house, Mr. Vaughn.” I forced the words out, my voice shaky but my tone resolute.

But he didn’t move. At least not in the direction of the front door. He moved toward me, covered the space between us, and crashed his lips onto mine. And just like a few hours ago, I melted in his arms.

He carried me to my bedroom, his hands all over my body like he was one thought away from tearing my most expensive chiffon top off.

I still remembered the look on his face when he first thrust into me and realized I was a virgin. Shock. Reverence. Something in between.

“You didn’t tell me,” he whispered. And for the first time, I saw a different side of Luca Vaughn. A softer side.

“You didn’t ask.”

Then he kissed me like I was made of glass, and if he handled me like anything less, he’d break me. And I loved every bit of that moment.

I still do.

My mind had been screaming at me to stop, to throw him out of the house, rain or not.

I was sure one of his Aston Martins was parked somewhere nearby, probably idling like he owned the street.

Because he did. The point is, I knew better.

I shouldn’t have done anything with him, but I had.

And it went on longer than it ever should have. And it broke my heart.

No, shattered it.

My eyes fluttered closed as a dull ache settled in my chest. My wolf stirred again. She felt the pain too, maybe even more than I did. The memory of him always seemed to rattle her, like she hadn’t stopped yearning for the one soul who once made us feel whole.

Even after five years, reminders of him still burned like acid in my throat. I swallowed them down like I always do. This time, along with the last sip of my wine.

Footsteps and chatter filtered in from the front lawn, and a smile spread across my lips. He never stopped talking, never stopped arguing.

“I told you it’s a Spinosaurus, not a T. Rex! Spinosaurus has a sail on its back. Google it!” That was Ollie’s voice, high-pitched, slightly annoyed, and full of the conviction he used for every debate. He was a passionate and enthusiastic kid.

“They all look the same to me, Ollie.” Valerie’s voice came out a little defeated. Valerie worked as a teacher at Ollie’s school. She usually brought him back home from school if she was able.

“That’s like saying you and a giraffe look the same,” Ollie continued firmly. “It’s wrong. And mean to the dinosaur.”

I laughed at their conversation as I quickly discarded all the piles of sorrow spread across the dining table and put away the wine glass.

I went to the door. The smile on my face widened as I took in my little boy in his white T-shirt and shorts, still mostly neat even after seven hours of school.

Somehow, he always looked polished. That was Ollie—neat, organized, and put together in a way most four-year-olds aren’t.

It was one less thing I had to worry about.

“Mommy! Tell Aunt Valerie I do know what a Spinosaurus is,” Ollie said the moment he looked up at me.

I feigned a frown, crouching in front of him. “That’s no way to say hello, now is it?”

Ollie shrugged his shoulders, then leaned in, “Hi, Mom,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek.

“Hi, kiddo.” I wrapped my hands around him, pulled him close, and buried my face in his neck. Warmth spread through me as I finally let myself relax after an entire day of figuring out how to get out of one mess my father had put me in, only to discover there were more waiting for me.

When I finally pulled back, Ollie was peering at me with narrowed eyes.

“You smell like that juice you said I can’t drink until I’m an adult.”

I chuckled. Right. Alcohol.

Ollie was nothing if not perceptive.

I stood and glanced at Valerie, who looked worn out. I couldn’t tell if it was from a stressful day at school, or from the one-sided debate about dinosaurs she had been having with Ollie. Maybe both.

“I think I need some of that ‘juice’ right now,” she mouthed to me, already on her way to the kitchen.

After closing the door, I started to help Ollie out of his bag and shoes. “So, did anything interesting happen at school today? Other than what your teacher said about Spinosaurus.”

“Oh, my teacher didn’t say anything about Spinosaurus.

My friend, Dan, brought his er…” he scrunched his nose as he scratched his head, searching for the right words to describe what he wanted to say.

“Dan brought his dinosaur textbook. It had all these pictures of different dinosaurs. They were so huge.”

“That’s certainly interesting,” I said, tugging off one of his socks.

“And at the closing assembly, Principal West said there was going to be a father–son game day at the end of the term.” Ollie’s gaze dropped to his lap. “But I know I can’t attend because I don’t have a daddy.”

My heart plummeted like someone had pulled the floor out from under me. I’d known this day would come, though I hadn’t expected it to come this soon. Ollie was just four years old.

“Why don’t I have a daddy, Mommy? Daniel and all my friends do.”

I drew in a breath, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Your father is…far away. He can’t be here right now, Ollie.”

Sadness clouded his small face. “Is he ever going to come back?”