CHAPTER 18
WOLF
It’s been a month of back and forth.
I’ve spent the past month trying and failing to get her to agree to a rematch. Sometimes I wonder if my inheritance is even worth all this. My feelings for her keep growing, and it’s getting harder to hide them.
Windy feels like a breath of fresh air, even when she’s stubborn. I love that about her. I love everything about her.
That love is what keeps me following her, even when it feels wrong.
I sink deeper into the driver’s seat with the engine off. Shadows cover the car at the edge of the street. From here, Windy has no reason to notice me or suspect I’ve been following her since she left her driveway half an hour ago. I made sure she never saw me. Watching. Waiting.
The easiest lie to tell myself is that I’m just making sure she’s safe. But the truth feels heavier, tangled up inside me.
I’m here because I just can’t stay away from her.
I’m here because there’s a connection between us that refuses to fade.
I watch the building’s front door, hoping for answers I can’t even name. Windy went inside about ten minutes ago, and I’m waiting to see if anything happens before I leave for the night.
Minutes drag.
My patience thins.
I’m about to start the car and leave when headlights sweep into the lot. I slide lower in my seat and watch a sleek, expensive sedan pulling up to the entrance. I study the car. It looks too polished for this neighborhood, too sure of itself.
No one gets out.
The windows are so darkly tinted I can’t even make out a silhouette.
I lean forward, my heart rate speeding up.
Then Windy appears. The light catches her, making her look almost unreal.
She steps out of the building with a smile so bright it stuns me. It’s not her polite or fake smile. This one is real, wide, and warm—the kind she saves for people who matter.
The back door opens and an alpha steps out, looking confident and wealthy. He walks straight to her, like he’s done it many times before. He seems comfortable with her, as if he belongs by her side.
He leans in and presses a kiss to her cheek.
My teeth grind when I see her leaning into it.
Heat spikes throughout me, fast and hot. I grip the steering wheel. My jaw locks. My vision narrows on the two of them. Instinct surges—I want to grab the door handle, get out, and storm over there, toward him. I want to make him pay for thinking he can touch my omega.
Two seconds. That’s all I’d need, two seconds, and I can be out of this car. I can drag him away from her in three. I can …
No!
I force myself back, allowing the fight to leave my body. Fingertips dig into the leather, knuckles aching from the pressure. The anger is a living thing inside me, digging at my ribs and begging to be let loose. But I stay. Hidden. Away from her.
Watching.
Waiting.
Burning.
Yearning.
I’d give anything to go to her, but I can’t.
I remind myself of that as my fingers twitch on the steering wheel.
Every instinct in me pulls toward her, but if I go over there now, if I let any of this show, it will ruin everything.
Pretending I don’t want her, pretending I need someone else, is just that lie.
All of this distance I’ve forced between her and us.
All the lies I told with a straight face.
One step toward her and everything will collapse.
Even if every fiber of me is screaming to drag her away from him, to put myself between her and this alpha because she’s mine.
I watch as he gestures toward the door, all polished manners and practiced charm.
It’s so considerate that it makes me sick.
A growl rumbles in my chest as the scene unfolds in front of me.
She slips in without hesitation, still smiling, still glowing in a way that makes something sharp twist under my ribs.
He slides in after her, and the sedan pulls away from the curb like the occupant owns the whole road and people will bow to him.
I wait three long breaths before easing out of my hiding spot. I keep several lengths between their car and mine, far enough away that there’s no chance they’ll notice me.
But when they turn down a familiar road, confusion slices through the haze.
I watch as they pull into La Petit.
My father’s restaurant.
The one with a three-month waitlist and a pretentious menu, which my father loves, but I can't stand.
What the hell is she doing here with him?
What is he doing taking her here?
This better not be a date.
“Of course it’s a fucking date,” I grumble to myself, hating the fact she’s on a date and it’s not with the guys or me.
I pull into a spot across the lot. I angle my car just enough to see without being seen, to spy without getting caught.
The valet is already jogging toward the sedan, but the alpha barely acknowledges him.
He steps out, smooth and confident in himself, and he holds out his hand when he turns around.
Windy follows, her hand sliding into his.
He wraps her arm around his like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Who the fuck is this guy?”
The valet tries the driver’s door. It doesn’t open.
Of course it doesn’t. Guys like this one don’t hand over their keys, even when they should.
This alpha’s driver pulls away from the entrance and finds a spot to park, leaving the alpha and Windy to walk inside together. I’m already out of my car before the sedan even settles into its spot.
By the time the driver steps out and takes his place by the entrance like some kind of bodyguard, I push through the doors, heat pounding in my chest, my pulse speeding up to a dangerous drum.
I shouldn’t be here.
I should stay in the car.
But I am.
And I can’t.
I need to be close to her.
Sliding around the edge of the room, I take a booth that’s open.
It’s half-hidden from view, but I can still see Windy’s.
It’s the kind of booth that gives me just enough cover to watch without being obvious.
The lighting is soft, golden, flattering, of course, it is.
My father designed this place to make people look like the best versions of themselves.
I can’t see the alpha all that much, just the back of his head.
I don’t know who this guy is, but he seems familiar to me, like I’ve seen him somewhere before.
I try to place him, but no amount of thinking jogs the memory.
Windy sits across from him, posture relaxed and loose, her hair catching the warm light like it was made for it. I can’t hear a damn thing from this distance, but I don’t need to. I don’t really want to. I can read her face better than most people read words.
She laughs at something he says.
Not a polite laugh.
Not the tight little laugh she uses when she’s trying to be nice.
I’m talking about the laugh that’s real. It’s unguarded, bright, the kind that lifts her whole expression. Her eyes crinkle at the corners as she gets lost in what he’s saying. Her hand comes up to cover her mouth for a second, like she’s trying to rein her happiness in.
The sight hits me like a punch to the gut.
I watch her like I’m a man drowning and trying to come up for air.
My eyes trace the familiar lines of her face.
The curve of her cheek. The soft slope of her nose.
The way her eyes brighten when she’s focused on someone.
I get lost in her. Lost in the way she glows without even trying.
She’s exquisite. Every detail pulls me in deeper, making it harder and harder to breathe.
It is hard to remember why I’m supposed to be pretending I don’t want her.
She’s beautiful.
She always is.
Even when she’s in her sweatpants, sweatshirt, and a messy bun, she’s the most beautiful omega I’ve ever seen.
But seeing her like his, with someone else, laughing like that, makes something inside me twist so hard I have to grip the edge of the table to steady myself. I can’t look away from the trainwreck in front of me. No matter how hard I try, my eyes are simply glued.
The waiter approaches my table, looking confused. “Sir?”
I lean down, waving him closer. “Do you know that gentleman and lady?”
The waiter looks back over his shoulder. When he sees where I’m pointing, his eyes soften. “Yeah. That’s Mr. Sheffield and Ms. Michael. They’re regulars here.”
“Regulars, you say?”
“Yeah, they come here at least once a week. They have standing reservations. Cute couple if you ask me.”
“Nobody asked you,” I growl, watching as the waiter pales at the tone of my voice. “S-Sorry, Mr. Rothschild.”
“What can you tell me about them?” I ask.
“Nothing much really. Do you want me to get the manager? He knows more about them than I do,” he says, already backing away from the table. Even if I didn’t want the manager, the waiter is already gone before I can say yes or no.
Within a few moments, the manager, Tyler, comes to the table. Instead of standing up and acting suspicious, he sits down on the other side of the booth, facing me. He doesn’t say a word, but he sits there staring at me, waiting.
My eyes don’t leave Windy and Sheffield when I ask, “Those two? I want to know everything.”
Tyler sits there staring at me, never once saying a word. I can feel the questions threatening to burst out of him, but he sits there as silent as ever. We sit like that for so long that I finally drag my gaze from Windy and Sheffield back to Tyler.
When he knows he has my attention, he says, “It’s none of your business, sir.”
Excuse me.
Excuse. The fuck. Out of me.
“Come again? I don’t think I heard you right,” I grind out in a threatening tone.
“It’s none of your business,” he repeats.
Fisting my hand on top of the table, I lean in toward him and growl. “Tell me now, or you’re out of here,” I demand with an alpha bark.
He tries to fight it, but in the end, it’s useless. He sighs and falls back against the booth. “She works for Lavish Darlings. Mr. Sheffield is her client.”
“How do you know this?”