Jealous

My stomach twisted with a jealousy so sharp it made me nauseous. He never spoke like that to anyone. Only to me. And now here was this woman, standing in his office with her polished smile, speaking to him as though they shared some secret language.

The lie slid out smoothly, but it burned my tongue. My heart pounded so hard I thought Damien would hear it.

I sat frozen, my fists clenched in my lap, every part of me burning. She was just his secretary… but for the first time, I wasn’t sure that was all she was. And that thought alone nearly broke me.

My head snapped toward him, frowning. “Stop what?”

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered, his voice rough, strained. “I’m sorry, Sofia.”

The words hurt. He turned from me before I could answer, walked back to his desk, and lowered himself into the chair. The sound of his pen scratching paper filled the room again, like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just torn me apart and left me standing there in pieces.

Sofia’s POV

She blinked at my tone but only smiled again, unbothered by my attitude. “Of course. Lucky boy.”

For a second, his brows furrowed, and I thought he would explode–but he didn’t. Instead, he simply bent his head and returned to the document on his desk.

My heart sank. So it hadn’t been my imagination.

I froze, my eyes narrowing. Secretary. She had to be. But why her? Why a woman? He could have picked anyone–a man, someone less… striking. Instead, it was her.

His brow arched, disbelief written all over his face.

Damien’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Sofia, stop.”

Her brows lifted in mild surprise before her lips curved into a polite smile. “Oh… you must be Charlie’s mother.”

I lifted my chin, my lips curling into a smile I didn’t feel. “Besides… I have a man. So why would I care?”

She placed the folder neatly on his desk, and their eyes met for the briefest second in a way that made my fingers curl into fists. My nails dug into my palms as I sat stiffly beside Charlie, forcing myself to stay quiet, forcing myself not to explode. Then, as if sensing my stare, her eyes shifted–and landed on me.

Just before she stepped out, she looked back at me again with that same friendly smile. “It was nice meeting you.”

Jealous. The word stabbed deep, and my chest flared hot. “I’m not jealous,” I snapped, my voice loud as I tried to hide my jealousy.

She carried a folder in her hand, her heels clicking lightly against the floor as she walked in like she owned here. “Alpha Damien,” she greeted, her voice smooth, professional–but there was a warmth in it too, too casual for someone who should have kept their distance.

The words were friendly, but they only made my chest tighten more. Charlie’s mother. That was all I was to her. Not Sofia. Not Damien’s woman. Just… his son’s mother.

Damien only gave her a short nod before she turned and left. The faint perfume lingered behind her again, teasing my nose, taunting me.

My throat tightened. “He looks like me too,” I said quickly, a little ruder than I meant.

My fists clenched in my lap. Why her? Why not a man? Why her? The questions ate at me until I thought I’d scream.

She gave a small nod, her eyes flicking briefly to Charlie sleeping beside me. “He’s adorable. Looks just like Damien.”

I pressed my lips together, nodding once. “Likewise.” The word was bitter on my tongue.

A woman stepped in–tall, elegant, with alluring eyes that sparkled with intelligence. Her hair was neatly pulled back, and she carried herself with a confidence that made my stomach twist. The faint sweet scent that drifted in with her was the same one I’d noticed earlier clinging to Damien’s desk.

The room went back to its awkward silence, but my mind refused to rest. Every second replayed in my head–her scent, her smile, the way Damien’s voice had softened when he spoke to her. My stomach twisted, the fire of jealousy clawing up my chest until I could hardly breathe.

Damien finally cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Thank you. That’ll be all.”

I felt my jaw tighten as I watched Damien look up. To my shock, his expression softened–just slightly, but enough to make my blood boil. “You’re here,” he said, his tone low, almost… friendly.

I forced a thin smile, my voice clipped. “Yes.”

But suddenly, he pulled away. The heat vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving me gasping, my eyes wide. My lips tingled, my chest heaved, and for a second I couldn’t breathe. Damien stared at me, his face hard, but I caught the flicker of regret in his eyes. His hand fell from my neck, and he stepped back as if the nearness had burned him.

My chest ached so badly it felt hard to stand. But I forced my face still, acting like I didn’t care because I refused to let him see how much he still had power over me. Ignoring him, I moved over and sat on the couch beside a sleeping Charlie. The room was awkwardly silent until the sound of the door opening broke through it. I turned sharply, my chest tightening the moment I saw her.

And then she was gone, leaving behind the faint trace of her perfume and a silence heavier than before.

I hated myself for it. Hated that I cared. Hated that I was jealous.

She glanced back at him, and for a second, the look they shared made my stomach churn. It was professional… but warmer than I liked. Too warm. She gave a small bow of her head, her heels clicking softly as she turned for the door.

She set the tray carefully on Damien’s desk, then gave a small nod. “If you need anything else, Alpha, I’ll be outside.”

His lips devoured mine, rough and demanding, until I thought I might drown in him. I hated how much my body betrayed me, answering him when my mind screamed to stop. His hand slid to the back of my neck, holding me in place, deepening the kiss until my knees buckled.

His eyes pinned me in place, calm and blank. “Stop fuming. Stop glaring like you’ll rip her apart. Stop acting jealous.”

“I thought you might want these,” she said politely, her smile warm, directed at both of us.

The door opened again, and my chest tightened. It was her. Again. Her heels clicked softly as she carried in a tray. Two glasses of juice, chilled, sitting neatly on top.