Bab 14: Text

It's May, and I still don't have an alpha lined up for my heat. The thought gnaws at me as I sink onto my yoga mat, the familiar routine failing to bring me any peace today. Am I really going to have to hire a heat doctor this time? The idea makes me cringe, but it's starting to feel inevitable.

The mysterious alpha from that night at the club—a month ago, maybe more—is still a no-show. It's… disappointing, to put it lightly. I should have asked for his number, or given him mine, but at the time, it felt too forward. Now, I wish I had thrown caution to the wind. He was so handsome, and the chemistry between us was unlike anything I'd felt before.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the memory, but it's no use. I can still feel the warmth of his hands on my waist, the scent of his cologne, and the way his deep, commanding voice seemed to curl around me like a blanket. It's not like me to dwell on someone like this, but he felt different—special.

A sigh escapes me as I collapse onto my mat. Yoga isn't helping today, but the habit is hard to break, a remnant of my modeling days. I miss it sometimes, being in front of the camera, walking the runway with thousands of eyes on me. But I've left that life behind—or maybe it left me behind. Either way, my current life in this small town feels worlds away from the glitz and glamor I used to know.

I glance at my phone, half-tempted to text Max. He's been trying so hard to win me over, and maybe I should give him a chance. He's sweet, stable, and seems like the kind of guy who'd make a good mate and father. That's what I want in the end, right? A family. A quiet, settled life. But the thought of giving up the more vibrant parts of myself—the parts that long for adventure and excitement—makes my chest ache.

Feeling the sweat stick to my skin, I head to the bathroom for a shower. The hot water works wonders, washing away some of the tension as it streams over me. I finish up quickly and step out, refreshed, but my reflection in the fogged-up mirror stops me in my tracks.

Don't do it, Ivan, I tell myself. But of course, I do it.

I grab my phone and snap a mirror selfie. The foggy glass blurs my reflection, leaving only the vague outline of my upper body visible. It's nothing too revealing, just a teasing hint of me. My thumb hovers over the post button, my heart racing with the thrill of a bad idea, and before I can overthink it, I upload the picture to my burner social media account.

The account is barely a blip on the internet radar. I use it for random, silly posts—a close-up of my arm, a water bottle, my feet, even an ant once. Somehow, it's gathered a modest 2,000 followers.

Within seconds, the likes start trickling in, and there's a comment from him—my most loyal follower, MrBigBadWolf57.

Tease.

I laugh, rolling my eyes. He's always the first to like and comment, no matter the time. It's almost eerie how fast he is, but I can't help being intrigued. I type out a response.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

My fingers hover over the screen for a moment before I hit send. A surge of mischievous energy runs through me, and before I can stop myself, I open up a private message to him.

"You're quick as always. Do you just sit around waiting for me to post?"

I grin as I hit send, the thrill of this little game lighting up my otherwise dull evening. Let's see if Mr. Big Bad Wolf can keep up.

***

I stare at the picture on my phone, letting my imagination spiral out of control. The vague silhouette, blurred by the fogged mirror, leaves so much to the mind. I can practically see him there, fresh from the shower, water dripping off his toned—

"Mr. Vale?" A voice cuts sharply through my thoughts, jolting me back to reality. I clear my throat, schooling my expression before anyone notices how distracted I was.

The conference room is silent, save for the faint hum of the AC. All eyes are on me, waiting. I place my phone facedown on the table and force myself to focus. Work first, then Ivan. The sooner I get through this, the sooner I can get back to him.

I rise from my seat, straightening my jacket as I look around the table. "Let's get one thing clear," I begin, my voice cold and firm. "To ensure we don't have another embarrassment like this, we're implementing tighter security protocols. Regular checkups. Random inspections. I don't care if you're the janitor or a department head; if you're caught doing anything that jeopardizes this company, there will be consequences."

I let my words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of my anger. My gaze sweeps over the room, daring anyone to speak. No one does.

"We've spent months cleaning up the mess from Adams' screw-up," I continue, my tone clipped and sharp. "Our stocks took a hit, our reputation suffered, and now we're bleeding money trying to stay one step ahead of the feds. And for what? Because someone thought they could get away with embezzlement and leave the rest of us to deal with the fallout."

The silence thickens, and I can see a few of them shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Good. Let them squirm.

"This isn't just about damage control anymore," I press on. "The case has gained traction, and shutting it down isn't an option. We're under a microscope now, thanks to someone's stupidity. So I'll say it again—if you're going to do something reckless, don't get caught. Or better yet, don't do it at all."

I'm met with a sea of downturned gazes and stiff nods. No one meets my eyes, which is just as well. I don't have the patience for excuses or apologies today.

Just then, my phone buzzes against the table. The faint vibration draws my attention immediately, and I can feel a flicker of anticipation in my chest. Only one person's notifications are set to break through—Ivan.

"That's all," I say abruptly, cutting the meeting short. The room erupts into the muted shuffle of chairs and paperwork as I snatch up my phone.