Well. I didn’t think about it either, did I? I set my jaw, offended and guilty all at once. “I’m sorry,” Bruce says, shaking his head as he sees my expression. “It’s just…I think it would be good for Luca, and helpful, if you really understood his situation, and his world. You need to help him m
I got home a little too late to see anyone. I mean, Rafe was probably awake somewhere, but I didn’t really feel like going to find him, so instead I simply cracked open the door to my parent’s room and called softly inside to let them know that I was home – groggy affirmations greeted me from both,
“What!?” I gasp, grabbing the magazine and lifting it up, reading the headline and realizing that the other half of the cover is, of course, a picture of Luca in his boxer’s getup – which, essentially, just means sweaty and shirtless. And, of course, he looks stupidly good with his boxing gloves up
“Ariel, darling,” mom says, reaching out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Tell me, sweetheart, how are you feeling about this?” I look up at my mom, trying to sort through my feelings, trying to figure it out. Because on one hand…I mean, he is my mate – it’s just the truth, and it was g
He’s standing there holding the breakfast room door open with one broad hand, frowning around at all of us, looking like a god damn model. Somehow, he got his hands on a really nice pair of jeans, and a blue button-down shirt that looks like it was made for him, rolled up to his elbows. His look is
He nods to me, and we duck out of the room. I take Jackson down a few doors to dad’s study. Not his office, where he does all of his big work – but a peaceful room where he goes to relax and think, or to have little intimate chats with his closest advisors, or mom, or Rafe, or me. Or Markie and Ju
“I’m a public figure too,” I explain to Jackson, incredibly sorry, “and…my reputation, unfortunately, matters. If Luca has confirmed to the entire nation that I’m his mate, and then I’m stepping out with this super hot Alpha, kissing him in the streets? The press is going to tear me to pieces – call
I nod, getting it now, unlacing my fingers from behind his neck and starting to run them again through his hair, liking Jackson more now than I have before, which is…saying something. He’s right, though – he doesn’t have some of the more annoying and disgusting habits of our culture’s masculinity. H