Evans
My father rubs his temples with a sigh, and for a brief moment, he looks...old. Not old in the sense that his hair has greyed or his skin is wrinkled, because he’s still a handsome man. Old in the way it seems like he’s carrying everything on his shoulders and he’s exhausted by it.
Yanking off his tie, cursing as he tosses it onto the desk beside us, he takes a deep breath. The deep lines around his eyes seem to soften as he stares at where my own tie is tucked into my pocket.
A minute ticks by. Then another. Straightening, he adjusts the front of his tuxedo jacket before smoothing an imaginary crease from one sleeve.
I watch, almost mesmerized as the tired father morphs into the carefully cultivated professional and the man before me isn’t simply my dad anymore. He's Harrison Crawford III, Chairman of Pembroke Holdings. The air around him shifts, becoming sharper.
“Fine.” His voice is calm, measured, as he considers each syllable. “If you intend to marry my son, there are terms that will need to be agreed.”
I blink. For a second, it’s like my brain simply stops.
Hunter looks at me.
I look at Hunter.
Is he…is this a negotiation?
What the fuck is happening right now?
"Terms?" I echo before I can stop myself. "Father—"
"No." He raises a finger, silencing me with the same gesture he's used since I was a child. "You being in an alpha x alpha relationship damages your reputation. If anything were to happen down the line, such as a divorce—"
"It won't," Hunter cuts in immediately, reaching out and threading his fingers through mine. His confidence gives me confidence, and I find myself nodding in agreement.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I find it strange that we’re discussing marriage terms, when we haven’t even slapped a label as simple as ‘boyfriends’ on our relationship. Were we skipping that stage entirely?
"It could," my dad repeats, his tone never wavering. "And if it did, Mr Ashbourne, I would expect Benedict to receive adequate compensation to minimise the impact on his life."
We stare at one another as my fathers words echo around us. Taking a step backwards, I lean against the desk and fold my arms.
Did he mean alimony or something more? What was my father thinking?
"This isn't a business merger," I chuckle awkwardly, trying to break the tension.
My father frowns, genuinely puzzled as he pulls out his phone and begins typing. "All relationships are business mergers."
Of course that's how he sees it. This is how he understands the world. Risks, governance, profits and losses. Something about it tugs at the back of my mind.
“Fine,” Hunter nods, “I agree to providing a comfortable life, no matter the outcome of our relationship."
What? They're negotiating. Actually negotiating.
"I expect our dinners in Oakley to continue," Dad says, gazing at me before it shifts to Hunter. "I won't have you cutting me out of his life."
"Fine." I reply, just because Hunter was leading this discussion, didn’t mean I couldn’t speak for myself. There were two of us in this hypothetical marriage, after all. "But if you're rude or dismissive to me or about my relationship, I will leave.”
Dad studies me for several long seconds, something dangerously close to pride shines in his eyes. "Fine."
"Any grandchildren from the marriage will bear the Crawford name."
Hunter raises an eyebrow. "Even if we adopt?"
"Any children." His answer is immediate as he gives me a hard look. "I won't allow the Crawford family name to end with me."
"I don't give a shit about names." Hunter glances sideways at me with a shrug, "Do you?"
The question catches me off guard. No one's ever actually asked me about something like this before. It wasn’t about what my dad wanted. Not what the Crawfords legacy expected. Not what worked best for the company or for the team. Just…
What did I want?
The answer is simple: I don't care.
I don't care what surname our hypothetical children we might have. I don't care if we never have children. The only thing I care about is the man standing beside me, stubborn enough to stand toe-to-toe with my father without even breaking a sweat.
Slowly, I shake my head. "No."
Hunter smiles, and it’s one I’ve come to recognise. It’s the one he gives me when he’s proud, granted it’s usually because I’m taking it like a champ, but I still know it well.
"Fine," Hunter says. "Agreed."
My father continues tapping out something on his phone, barely looking at us as he says, “I'll have my secretary arrange a meeting with your family next week so we can formalise the remaining details.”
Something clicks into place in my mind, and for a moment I wonder why I was so slow to realise what was happening here. This wasn’t about controlling us or restricting Hunter.
It was about protecting me.
If I were marrying an omega, there would already be expectations. Traditions. Lawyers. Family agreements. Centuries of precedent. But alphas don’t marry alphas, there isn't a rulebook for this.
My father is doing the only thing he knows how to do. He's preparing for the worst because, in his own strange, frustrating way...He wants to make sure I'll survive if it happens.
I don't know whether that makes me want to laugh or cry, the weight of everything finally lifting and throwing my emotions out of whack. Hunter catches my eye, clearly just as confused and amused by the direction this entire conversation has taken.
“Shit, there you both are!” Shiloh bursts into the room, slightly out of breath, Bell is close behind.
“We’ve been looking for you every—” Bell's eyes flit briefly to my father, their nostrils flaring and their words die on their tongue.
Something passes between them, recognition maybe? Discomfort? Whatever it is vanishes almost instantly as Bell smooths down the front of their jacket and looks away. Strange.
“You might want to get your asses out here, Sadie’s about to make a huge announcement apparently.” Shiloh grabs my arm, tugging me back out into the corridor. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
Pushing through the gathered crowds, I pause, the atmosphere has shifted from earlier as the Templeton’s hold court on a stage at the centre of everything, a row of key patrons of the charity seated behind them.
Journalists shuffle forwards, cameras hanging around their necks while photographers fight for the best angle.
The quartet has stopped playing, conversations gradually dying away as the last of the guests drift towards the stage with champagne flutes still in hand.
My pulse begins to climb as Sadie stands at the microphone, cheeks flushed with excitement. Her parents beam beside her.
My father walks past me, face a blank mask as he takes his place beside the other patrons on the stage. The negotiation in the office might be over, but I can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he watches the reporters gathering.
He's already calculating the headlines in tomorrow morning's newspapers. I’m willing to bet he’s mapping out every scenario right now, waiting to see how the situation unfolds.
Hunter's fingers brush against mine, grounding me as a cold sweat breaks out over my skin.
Almost every important family in the country seems to be here tonight, every influential businessman, politician and socialite gathering beneath one roof to gossip, donate money and pretend they all actually like one another.
"What do you think she’s planning?" Blake asks as we find our friends in the crowd. His glances between Hunter and me, but says nothing.
Sadie waves politely as the applause dies down. "I just wanted to thank everyone for joining us this evening for such a fantastic cause."
Applause ripples around the room, swelling and drowning everything else out.
She's glowing.
The dress, the hair, the nails.
She’s radiating the kind of happiness that makes my chest ache because I know what's coming.
Everything starts to shift, like pieces of a puzzle clicking into place.
The journalists.
The elites of society all gathered in one room.
The shackle fastening itself around my neck.
I feel sick.
"That’s why I couldn't imagine a better place to share some very exciting news."
She finds me almost immediately, her smile widening.
Please don't do this, I silently beg.
Please.
No.
No.
Please.
The blood drains from my face, I can feel my skin go cold. Numb.
Shut.
It.
Down.
“Oh. Oh no.” Percy whispers, sounding pained as he closes his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. “If it’s what I think it is…this is not going to end well.”
I hadn’t even realised he’d be here tonight but I guess it shouldn’t surprise me, he was a Templeton afterall. The disappointment in his voice catches me off guard.
"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me,” Shiloh hisses, as he takes a step forward. I don’t think I’ve seen him this fired up before. “This isn’t what I think it is, is it? That manipulative little cun—"
"Loh," Zale hisses before wrapping a hand over his mate’s mouth, he lets go a moment later like he’s been burned. “Fuck! Did you bite me? We said no more biting!”
There’s a beat of silence as Sadie smiles again.
"Benedict and I are engaged!"
Applause explodes around us, louder than before. Deafening. Champagne glasses clink. Everything becomes muffled beneath the pounding in my ears. My vision goes hazy, blurring around the edges. There are too many people, all looking at me. Watching and waiting.
Sadie beams, her grin wide as she holds out her hand, waiting for me to take it. She genuinely believes this is happening. After everything we’ve been through, a part of her thought I would somehow suddenly want to marry her
Blake lets out a low whistle to my left. "Wow. She actually did it."
Bell bites down on their knuckle, "This was planned. Anyone who is anyone is here, and tomorrow half the country will know.”
It feels like every camera in the room swings towards me, bright flashes firing off in my face.
Questions are already being shouted, yelling coming from every direction in a cacophony of noise.
"When's the wedding?"
"Can we get a photo together?"