CHAPTER 32

Xander’s POV.

I could feel the sound of the engine of my car as I passed across the streets in the city. Beatrice, looking extra pretty today sat beside me, her hands fastly held to her laps, her expression showed indifference. Of course,She wasn't fooling me .

She was beside me, I could feel the restlessness within her, she wanted to know where I was driving her to but she still kept a calm face.

She had no idea where we were going. She really wanted to know.

And that was exactly how I wanted it. Curiosity.

"Are you going to tell me where we’re going?" she finally asked, her voice edged with frustration.

"No," I replied, keeping my gaze on the road.

She let out an exaggerated huff, crossing her arms over her chest. "At least tell me if I should be worried."

She muttered something under her breath, probably an insult directed at me.

She was adorable when she was irritated.

I could feel her staring at me, searching for answers in my profile. But I remained silent, letting the tension simmer between us as I drove deeper into the wealthiest part of the city.

As we neared our destination, I noticed the way her eyes flickered outside, taking in the towering glass buildings, the designer stores that lined the streets, the way the sidewalks became cleaner, the cars more expensive.

Then, the moment I turned into a private parking lot, her body went rigid.

La Belle Élite.

One of the most exclusive boutiques in the country. A place where only royalty, billionaires, and the most powerful elites shopped.

Her head snapped toward me, her brows knitting together in confusion.

"We're... shopping?" she asked, her voice laced with disbelief.

I didn't answer. Instead, I stepped out of the car and walked around to her side, opening the door for her.

She stared at me, then at the boutique, then back at me.

She hesitated.

I extended my hand.

She didn’t take it immediately, her expression still guarded. But eventually, she placed her fingers in mine.

Her hand was small. Warm.

A dangerous kind of warmth.

I led her toward the entrance, and the moment we stepped inside, the world shifted. She was even surprised to see the insides, I'm not sure she has ever entered this place. This is the Life she deserved. The life she could have gotten on a platter silver.

Power & Elegance. Even when we entered, Beatrice couldn't close her mouth. She kept it widely opened. 

The boutique was magnificent—white marble floors gleamed under the glow of cascading chandeliers, their crystals refracting light like stars. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, the faint rustle of silk and cashmere brushing against each other.

But the moment I stepped inside—

Everything stopped.

The cashiers halted mid-transaction. The personal shoppers turned away from their clients. The security guards at the entrance stiffened.

And then—

They bowed.

Every single one of them.

Beatrice inhaled sharply beside me, her fingers twitching in my grip. She didn't know what ut felt like to be beside the most powerful Lycan king.

She was overwhelmed.

Good.

At the front desk, the head secretary—a petite woman with sharp brown eyes and sleek dark hair—reached for the phone with slightly trembling fingers.

"Summon Mr. Olivier immediately," she instructed.

Within seconds, a tall, middle-aged man in a perfectly tailored black suit emerged from the back.

Olivier—CEO of La Belle Élite.

His sharp eyes flickered to me, recognition dawning, before he lowered his head slightly.

"Your Majesty," he greeted smoothly, his voice controlled yet filled with respect.

Beatrice stiffened beside me. She looked at me and our eyes met but I could only let out a smile before I replied; " Mr Olivier , thanks, can we head in now? "

I glanced at her, watching the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed nervously.

She was not obviously used to all this.

She had spent her entire life being overlooked, pushed aside, treated as nothing.

Now, she was standing beside the most powerful man in the room, and the world was bowing to her.

Olivier’s gaze flickered toward her briefly before he gestured toward the private shopping section.

“I assume you require the highest service?” he asked.

I nodded. "I want her fitted. Today."

Beatrice's head snapped toward me. "Excuse me?"

I ignored her.

Olivier inclined his head. "Understood. We will bring out our finest collections immediately."

As the employees scurried away to fulfill my request, Beatrice tugged at my sleeve.

"Xander," she hissed.

I turned my head lazily toward her. "Hm?"

She gestured around the store, eyes narrowed. "Can I talk to you? Alone?"

I arched a brow. "Why?"

She grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward a secluded corner of the store, away from prying ears.

Once we were alone, she crossed her arms, tilting her head.

"Do you have a girlfriend I don't know about?" she demanded.

A girlfriend..? You're the one that needs to get fitted or do you admit you're my girlfriend?

No..no , she couldn't believe her ears. 

I smirked.

Her tone was sharp, but there was something else lurking beneath her expression.

Something she didn’t want to admit.

"You’re my mate," I reminded her.

She faltered for a split second.

Then, she quickly masked it with a scowl. "That doesn’t answer my question. What are we doing here?"

"I'm buying clothes."

She narrowed her eyes. "For who?"

I stepped closer, watching the way she stiffened.

"For you," I said simply.

Her lips parted slightly, her breath catching.

A small, barely-there smile ghosted over her lips before she masked it again.

I had caught her off guard.

Why though? . She asked 

I don't like the way you dress, your dresses aren't doing justice to your beautiful and sexy shape. It must not be too open but at least.. you should look nice .

Why are you doing all this? I'm ok with my clothes, do you know how much one costs?

She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, Olivier returned, clearing his throat politely as if something was stuck in it. I could see he was trying to gain our attention since we were still haven't a little banter.

I turned to Beatrice.

She was still staring at me, her mind clearly racing. I had always been cruel with her and decided to make up for my mistakes. This is only the tip of the iceberg, I was ready to atone for everything.  

I smirked.

"Bring out everything in her size," I commanded.

Olivier nodded.

Beatrice's jaw dropped. She used her hand to draw my coat down , I only held it and she removed her hand immediately.

Drowning in Fabric

The next hour was pure chaos.

Racks of clothing appeared—silks, satins, and cashmeres in every shade imaginable. Dresses that shimmered under the lights. Delicate lace, embroidered gowns, custom-tailored suits. Even designer heels and accessories were laid out like treasures.

Beatrice stood frozen in the middle of it all, her expression caught between awe and fury. She didn't know what to do. I guess I'm not good with words because ever since it complained her 

Her breathing was uneven.

She was overwhelmed.

And angry.

"Xander," she gritted out.

I hummed in acknowledgment.

Her nostrils flared. "This is too much."

"It's necessary."

"No, it's excessive!"

I tilted my head. "Are you saying you don’t deserve luxury?"

She opened her mouth, then hesitated.

She wanted to argue.

But she couldn’t.

Because deep down, she knew she did deserve it.

For years, she had been treated as an outcast. A weak omega. A woman unworthy of kindness.

But she was mine.

And I would drape her in nothing less than power itself.

She shook her head in disbelief, running a hand through her hair.

"I don’t even know what to say to you," she muttered.

"You don’t have to say anything," I replied.

She shot me a glare.

"You infuriate me."

I smirked. "I know."

Her eyes softened for a brief moment before she turned away, pretending to examine the dresses.

But I saw it.

The way her fingers brushed the fabric.

The way her lips twitched ever so slightly.

She was overwhelmed.

But she was also happy.

And she didn’t even realize it.

I turned to Olivier.

"Pack everything."

Beatrice whipped around. "Xander—" you mean every single thing. Wouldn't that drain out your card? 

I cut her off with a single look. You've only spent 0.0001 of my accumulated wealth.

"Everything, Beatrice," I said smoothly. "Because you're mine."

She swallowed hard, her hands clenched into fists.

Her emotions warred in her eyes—anger, frustration, disbelief…

And something else.

Something deeper.

Something she wasn’t ready to admit.

Not yet.

But soon.

And I would wait.

For now.

 Will Beatrice embrace the luxury i gave her, or will she push back once more?