Page 23
He gives a short laugh, then picks up his napkin and tosses it down again in sheer disbelief. “You? An alpha?” He barks and then whines as he finds himself fighting true peals of laughter. “That’s ridiculous. Where did you get your pack? Collect them from cereal packets? Find them in online forums? Let me guess. You have a Discord.”
He is giggling to himself as the waiter comes over with a fresh bottle of wine. I wave to him to pour it, and Rick has a large gulp, then splutters into the rest of his glass.
“Oh, my god,” he laughs. “I’m crying. That’s the funniest thing I have ever heard. You’re some fucking guy from middle-class parents. You’re nothing. You’re nobody. You’re not a fucking alpha, Henry.”
I let him make his snide little comments. I am perfectly secure in who I am and what I have. It’s easy to remain calm when I know who I have in my pack, and how loyal they are to me, while Rick is getting played six ways from Sunday by every wolf who was there during his father’s time. The only reason they haven’t killed him is he’s too useful an idiot and he’s handsome enough that he’s a good face to the pack. They’ve made sure to sabotage his romantic entanglements, though. No fated mate for him. Can’t have him breeding and continuing his line.
“I have property, I own businesses. I am established,” I tell him. “I can take care of Fiona. I can ensure her safety. And I can be certain that she will not be engaging in her usual extra-curriculars. She needs someone to take her in hand.”
“That part is true,” Rick says. “But it won’t be you. I wouldn’t let you mate with one of the rats in my basement. You might have gone off and started a couple businesses, maybe picked up some ragtag strays who don’t know who you really are, and what you really did. But I’m not going to forget.”
“You have no evidence to support the idea that I had anything to do with your father’s passing, and you know it. Why won’t you listen to me, Rick? Hell. Forget me. Why won’t you listen to yourself? You’re not stupid. You know that things aren’t going right for you. You know that Swale Holdings is tanking when it shouldn’t be. You know your sister is on the street, and you know that your life is in danger if you say one wrong word about it to anyone. You don’t have to live like this.”
For a second, I see something softer in his eyes. But it’s gone in a flash, vulnerability replaced by cold derision.
“I’m not going to let Fiona marry you.”
“Fine. Then I guess our pups will be born out of wedlock.”
His jaw tightens. “It’s you. You’re the one she’s been sleeping with.”
“Yes,” I say.
“And she didn’t tell me it was you.”
“I asked her not to, until I’d had the chance to speak to you.”
“So you kill my father and knock my sister up by way of apology?” He cocks his head to the side. “It’s almost like you want me to destroy you, Henry. It’s like you want me to take you apart, piece by piece until there’s nothing fucking left.”
“Your father’s beta, Kyle, killed him,” I tell Rick. “And one day, he’s going to kill you too. If you want to hold onto some arrogant old money notion of loyalty that’s gotten both your parents killed, while you blame your friends instead of your enemies, be my guest. But Fiona and I are fated.”
“You are not!” He laughs. “You were around all the time. She never looked at you. You never looked at her.”
“She wasn’t of age yet, and you know it. I wasn’t around when she turned eighteen. She probably hadn’t even had her first heat before you were already trading her off to the man who made her miserable.”
“Christian was a good man.”
“Christian was their man,” I tell him. “He didn’t love her. Barely mated her. I’d say once, because she can shift.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“She didn’t need to. When I touch her, she reacts like a woman who has been starved for affection her whole life…”
Rick stands up abruptly, his hands hooking the underside of the table. The clatter the whole thing makes as he tips it over toward me, then tries to come over it to beat the shit out of me, is nothing short of a fine dining apocalypse. I’m glad he did it before the meat got here. That would have been a real waste.
As it is, plates and glasses and cutlery go flying. He’s over the barrier he made much faster than I would have given him credit for, his feet finding my chest as he kicks me backward out of my chair and sends me sprawling into the nearby table. The boy’s been working on his fighting.
He’s on me in an instant, hands on my neck. I grapple him back and the two of us roll around in suits, which are thankfully well made enough to protect us from most of the shards of ceramic and glass that are now everywhere.
The diners around us abandon their meals to watch what looks like a brawl between two rich men who should know better. Notes are going to be taken about this. Stories are going to be told and sold. This is what I was trying to avoid when I suggested a public place with some class, but I guess Rick doesn’t care about his reputation as much as he used to.
I come to a realization as we wrestle. I’m going to have to let him win. If I don’t, his pride is going to be bruised, and he’s going to take it out on Fiona. She doesn’t know this is happening. I thought I could handle it better than this. I thought he’d stay calm in public. Worst case scenario, he might walk out. This is not what I thought would happen in a hundred years. These Swale kids really like to make a mess and a scene at the same time.
I let him get a punch in, and pretend like it hurt. He takes the top position and starts pummeling me, punch after punch landing on my head and neck as I block what I can.
He tires himself out doing that after less than a minute, then gets up off me. A man with any real sportsmanship would help me up. But Rick is kind of an asshole, and he doesn’t see this as sport. He sees this as protecting his honor.
“What the fuck were you thinking? Coming and telling me you’re sleeping with my sister? Thinking that was some kind of olive branch?” He kicks me in the ribs, and then the face. Cheap shots, both of them.
