Caleb’s fingers flex against my hip, his thumb tracing idle circles through the fabric of my dress. “You okay?”
No. I am absolutely not okay. I’ve gone from fake date to public scandal in less than twenty-four hours, and the worst part is, I can’t bring myself to regret a second of it.
“Peachy,” I lie, my voice two octaves too high.
His smirk says he doesn’t believe me.
“That was quite a statement,” Mason observes quietly, eyes darting between me and Caleb.
“I thought it was hot,” Jude offers helpfully.
Liam shoots him a look. “Not helping.”
“What? It was!” Jude protests, gesturing with his water glass. “Did you see his face? I’ve never seen someone turn that particular shade of purple before. Fascinating, really.”
“Should we... leave?” I ask, finding my voice at last. My pulse is still racing, and I’m acutely aware of every place Caleb is touching me—his hand at my waist, his thigh pressed against mine, the lingering ghost of his teeth on my neck.
“Not yet,” Caleb says, his voice a low rumble that I feel more than hear. “I need to make sure he got the message.”
“Trust me,” Mason says dryly, “everyonegot the message.”
Conversations around us have resumed, but I can feel eyes on us—curious, scandalized, envious. The weight of their attention should make me want to crawl under the table, butinstead, I find myself sitting up straighter, almost leaning into Caleb’s touch.
What is wrong with me?
“Leah, dear!”
I slam back my drink as Eric’s mother barrels toward us again, all fake smiles and judgment, her floral dress practically screaming as loud as her opinions probably will.
“Such a…surprise,” she says, her gaze pointedly flicking to the spot on my neck where Caleb’s lips had been moments before. “I hadn’t realized how…close…you and the Le Roux pack had become.” The emphasis on “close” is heavy with insinuation.
“It’s recent,” I manage, the lie tasting like ash in my mouth. I can’t believe she’s bringing this up again.
“Very recent,” Caleb adds smoothly, his thumb resuming its maddening circles against my hip. “But when you know, you know.” He gives Eric’s mother a charming smile that does nothing to soothe my nerves.
Mrs. Donovan’s smile tightens. “How…romantic,” she says. “And to think, just last night, you introduced them as…friends.”
My cheeks burn.
“Well,” she continues, clearly struggling to wrap her head around this mess. Fuck, I am too. “I’m very happy for you, dear. Your alpha is quite…attentive.” Her tone suggests she’d prefer the word “possessive.”
Is he ever.
“Thank you,” I say, because what else can I say? ‘He’s not actually my alpha, we just met yesterday in a case of mistaken identity, and this whole thing is an elaborate charade that’s rapidly spinning out of control’?
After she leaves, I turn to glare at Caleb. “Did you have to do that?” I hiss, keeping my voice low so only he can hear. “The ‘when you know, you know’ bit? And the constant touching? It’s a bit much, don’t you think?”
His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the smug alpha facade slips, revealing something more genuine—uncertainty, maybe even a touch of guilt. “No,” he says, and I think that’s the end of that. Until… “But I wanted to.”
Oh.
Oh.
The honesty in his voice disarms me completely.
“Just give me some warning next time,” I mutter, reaching for my water glass to hide the flush creeping up my cheeks.
Next time. As if there’s going to be a next time.