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As Delcy's companions peeled off to mingle, she lingered alone by a sculpture, her posture shrinking into itself. Jaxon ached to sweep her into his arms and spirit her away from prying eyes and scheming elites.
A low growl rumbled in Colton's throat as a man approached Delcy, leaning in close to whisper in her ear. She recoiled, shrinking away from his touch, and the man laughed.
Jaxon moved on instinct, muscles coiling, ready to vault over the balcony railing and tear the smirk from the man's face. A firm hand on his arm stopped him short—Colton, eyes blazing but grip steady with warning. Jaxon forced himself to take a deep breath, tamping down the primal urge to protect what was his.
On-screen, Delcy extricated herself from the man's grasp, slipping into the crowd in search of escape. Jaxon's eyes tracked her hungrily, refusing to lose sight of her again.
Without tearing his eyes away from Delcy, Colton called out to Trenton. “We want to speak with her,” he stated firmly, his voice cutting through the low murmur of conversation around them.
Trenton turned toward them, his face lighting up with relief so palpable it nearly filled the room. “Of course, Mr. Sterling,” he said eagerly as he approached, tablet in hand.
He scrolled through the information before him. “Her name is Delcy Charlton,” he began to explain. “Her agent is Lydia Hamill of the prominent alpha family—”
“I don't care about that,” Colton interrupted sharply. “Bring her up here.”
Trenton bobbed his head in a nod so vigorous it sent his jowls quivering. He scurried off to arrange for Delcy's appearance, leaving Colton and Jaxon to process what they'd just seen.
As Trenton paused at the threshold and turned back tentatively, Jaxon anticipated his question. “No,” he said before Trenton could speak. “We're not interested in anyone else.”
With that dismissal hanging in the air like smoke from an extinguished flame, the brothers were ushered into the meeting gallery next door, a space where luxury wasn't just an accent but the very language spoken.
Exclusive paintings adorned the walls, vivid splashes of color and texture that demanded attention and admiration. A string quartet played softly in a corner, their music weaving through conversations that held undertones of deals and desires being bartered.
Servers glided between clusters of alphas and their chosen companions, offering glasses of wine from vineyards whose names carried weight and history. Plates piled high with gourmet food circulated among them, plentitude for those accustomed to feasting every day.
Jaxon ignored it all, tension coiling through him as he waited for Delcy, each tick of his watch marking a moment too long without her presence. Beside him, Colton was statue-still, radiating a palpable fury that had patrons giving him a wide berth.
Then she appeared at the doorway—an ethereal figure momentarily caught between worlds—the opulent realm of alphas and her own reality that lay beyond these walls.
For Jaxon, everything else faded into insignificance—the chatter around them dulling into silence, the paintings losing their vibrancy, even his own heartbeat seeming to echo hers as he approached.
There she was, standing before him as real as any dream dared materialize, the woman who had unwittingly captured both Sterling brothers' fascination like no other ever had.
Jaxon's stride carried a newfound purpose, his heart thrumming a rhythm that matched the quickening pace of his steps. She was a vision, ethereal and unassuming amidst the grandeur that framed her. The sight of her here, in this sanctum of privilege and pretense, sparked an anticipation within him he hadn't known he was capable of feeling.
“Leaving already?” he said. He watched her turn, her gaze lifting to meet his. The connection was immediate, an electric charge that danced through the air.
Her proximity was intoxicating, the subtle scent of her omega pheromones wrapping around him like the finest silk. It beckoned him closer, promising sweetness and fire in equal measure. Jaxon found himself surrounded by the essence of Delcy—gentle yet compelling, an allure that whispered directly to his alpha senses.
“Why don't you join us for a few drinks?” The invitation flowed from him with ease, even as his pulse quickened at the sight of her lips parting—a small, unconscious gesture that sent his thoughts spiraling.
She licked her lip, and Jaxon's attention was ensnared by the simple act. A primal part of him longed to explore that plump flesh with his own mouth, to claim what he suddenly realized he wanted with a fervor that bordered on possession.
“I’m actually here looking for my friends,” she said, her voice threading through the haze of his desire.
“Your friends?” He needed to keep her talking, keep her here with him. The notion of her leaving felt unacceptable—intolerable even. “Hmm…” He tilted his head, feigning curiosity. “Were they invited?”
She nodded with an innocent certainty that tugged at something deep within him. “Yes, Lydia said we were invited to this private viewing room?” Her voice lilted upward in confusion. “This is a private viewing room, right? It said Private Gallery outside.”
His smile was instinctive, a response to her confusion and to the surge of protectiveness he felt for her. “Yes, this is a private viewing room. Lydia, did you say?”
“Yes, Lydia,” she confirmed. “Lydia Hamill.”
“And you are?” He already knew her name. It had been etched into his mind since seven years ago when he first laid eyes on her. But hearing it from her lips would be another piece of her given freely to him.
She licked her lip again, a gesture that seemed as natural as breathing to her but was unbearably sensual to Jaxon's heightened senses. His inner alpha purred in contentment at the thought of those lips whispering his name in the quiet moments yet to come.
“Delcy… Delcy Charlton.”
