But violence isn't my weapon tonight. Tonight, my weapon is presence. Tonight, I'm going to show every single person in this room that my Alpha is claimed, cherished, and absolutely not available for their entertainment.
I reach the bottom of the stairs and cross the remaining distance to Julian with deliberate grace. Up close, I can see the details of his appearance—the deep aubergine velvet that shifts between purple and black in the candlelight, the black silk tie perfectly knotted at his throat, the silver hair pulled back to reveal the sharp lines of his face. He looks devastating. He looks untouchable. He looks like a man who's been slowly suffocating in a room full of people who don't deserve him.
The group that had been tormenting him has gone quiet, all of them staring at me with expressions ranging from shocked to scandalized. A blonde woman with cheekbones like blades. Two men in forgettable suits. Two other women dripping in jewels and judgment. I catalog them briefly, dismiss them entirely, and focus all my attention on the only person in this room who matters.
"Sorry I'm late, Alpha." I let my voice carry just enough to be heard by our unwanted audience, pitching it sweet and apologetic while my eyes stay locked on his. "The city trafficis far more unpredictable than I would have expected. These luxury events cause such chaos."
I slide against his side with practiced ease, fitting myself into the curve of his body like I belong there. His frame, which had been rigid with tension moments ago, relaxes almost instantly at my touch. I can feel the shift—the way his muscles unclench, the way his breathing evens out, the way something in him settles simply because I'm close.
He needed me. He needed me and he was too stubborn to ask, too selfless to demand, too focused on my happiness to prioritize his own. Stupid, noble, infuriating man.
I rise onto my tiptoes and press a light kiss to his lips—chaste, brief, just enough to stake my claim in front of everyone watching. His scent surrounds me as I do it—bergamot and sandalwood and something richer underneath, something that smells like relief and desire and barely restrained want.
"Missed me?" I whisper against his mouth.
His eyes soften. Actually soften, the ice in them melting into something warm and genuine that makes my heart stutter in my chest. A smile curves his lips—not his usual smirk or his careful social mask, but something real. Something that reaches his eyes and transforms his entire face.
"Very much, Sweet Ditzy."
I pull back to give him my best pout, lower lip pushed out in exaggerated offense. "SweetDitzy?"
He chuckles—an actual chuckle, low and warm, and I swear half the room does a double-take because Julian North apparently doesn'tlaughat social events. "Perhaps Sweet Vixen would be more appropriate."
I flick my hair over my shoulder with theatrical flair, letting the crystals woven through the curls catch the light. "Sweet Maiden would be better." I lean closer, dropping my voice tosomething only he can hear. "But in the bedroom, Sweet Queen would be imperative."
His eye twitches. Actually twitches, and I have to bite my lip to keep from giggling at the way his jaw clenches and his nostrils flare. I can practically see the thoughts racing behind his eyes—none of them appropriate for polite company.
Good. Let him suffer a little. He deserves it for not telling me about this event.
I giggle and wrap my arms around his, pressing myself against his side in a display of casual possession. Then I turn my attention to the group still standing there gaping at us like fish out of water.
"Are these acquaintances of yours?" I ask, keeping my tone light and curious, as if I haven't already dismissed them as beneath my notice.
Julian's voice is smooth and unbothered when he answers. "A mix. Some past modeling colleagues, some business associates. Nothing particularly noteworthy."
The blonde's face goes red with barely suppressed outrage. I smile at her sweetly.
"I thought you had a business meeting tonight," Julian says, looking down at me with an expression that's trying very hard to be casual and failing entirely. "Something about an interview?"
"I did." I grin up at him, letting all my genuine happiness shine through. "However, I requested a better arrangement—different day, better location, fewer logistical nightmares caused by traffic from this lovely event." I gesture vaguely at the glittering ballroom around us. "So I opted to come here instead of missing the chance to support my Alpha."
His brows lift slightly. "You rescheduled a business meeting to come to a party?"
I purposely pout my lips, making sure to look as submissive and adoring as possible while delivering my next words loudenough for our audience to hear. "I couldn't possibly not show up for my Alpha, who does everything to make me happy and content. I know these social gatherings mean a lot in the industry, so I wanted to ensure I was here to support you—just like you always show up for me and all my endeavors." I tilt my head, gazing up at him through my lashes. "Sorry for being late, Alpha."
The performance is deliberate. Calculated. Designed to look exactly like what these people expect an Omega to be—sweet and devoted and completely focused on her Alpha's needs. Let them see what they want to see. Let them think I'm just another accessory on a powerful man's arm.
They'll never know that my Alpha is the one who almost sacrificed his own evening so I could pursue my dreams. They'll never understand that this devotion goes both ways.
Julian's cheeks flush with color—actual color, the faintest hint of red spreading across his sharp cheekbones. I've never seen him blush before. It's absolutely delightful.
"Are you going to pay for being late?" he mutters, his voice dropping low enough that only I can hear.
I press myself more firmly against his side, letting my curves mold to the hard planes of his body. "Anything to please you, Alpha."
His breath catches. I feel it—the slight hitch, the way his chest expands and holds, the way his arm tightens around me like he's fighting the urge to drag me somewhere private immediately.
"Then why don't we say farewell to my managers and head home," he says, and his voice has gone rough at the edges in a way that sends heat pooling low in my belly. "I wouldn't mind starting certain activities earlier to make it less of a long night."
