He dropped his hand and stepped back as if burned, his expression icing over. “Miss Ravenscar,” he said loudly, “this is a place of work. Please behave appropriately. Whatever affection you show your mate should stay at home—not here.”
Your mate.
Behave appropriately.
The words washed over me like freezing rain.
Without sparing me another glance, he turned and left, his retreat swift and decisive, as though he needed everyone to see the boundary he’d just drawn between us.
I remained there, one hand resting instinctively over my stomach, shielding the life inside me.
For a long while, I stood completely still.
Even my tears had run dry.
Aria’s POV
Ronan never once acknowledged my existence in front of others.
For three full years, I was his mate in private and no one in public. To the pack—and the business world tied to it—he remained unattached: polished, confident, the kind of Alpha everyone assumed was still waiting for “the right she-wolf.” I was never that she-wolf in their eyes.
I never pressed him for an explanation.
Not once.
Back then, I told myself that being by his side was already more than enough. I was happy simply belonging to him, even if only behind closed doors.
I’d loved him long before that—back when we were still students. I could trace it to a single moment: the day a jealous bully hurled a kettle of boiling water at me, and Ronan lunged forward without hesitation, taking the splash meant for my face. I still remembered the scent of scorched fabric and the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
Ten years had passed since then.
And somehow, my feelings hadn’t dulled. Not even a little.
Three years ago, after Ronan and Delilah severed their bond, he drank himself into oblivion. The Alpha who never showed weakness staggered through a bar thick with smoke and noise, drowning himself in liquor and regret. I followed him there, choking on the scent of alcohol and cigarettes, and stayed with him when everyone else left.
In the blur of that night, with his eyes unfocused and his words slurred, he asked me if I wanted to try being together.
I knew what it was.
A rebound.
A way to spite the she-wolf who walked away from him.
I knew he didn’t love me.
And still… I agreed.
I told myself a lie that felt comforting at the time: If I love him enough, if I stay gentle and patient, one day he’ll look at me the way I look at him.