Unwanted By The Alpha: His Hidden Genius Mate

rea

he heavy silk curtai

etched out before him, the picture of relaxed contentment. Our five-year-old daughter, Bonnie,

quisite cake. A single cand

avender cake. From t

avor

er little hands, her voice filled with pure jo

, focused. It was a look I had never, not once,

family. And I, the mistress of this house, had

ns turned to ice. M

slipped fr

floor. The sound was like a

outside stopp

gripping the steering wheel, a

leaves, painting shifting patterns on the asphalt. In the rearview mirror, I had seen the box on the back seat--a

arm lights, the scent of butter and sugar drifting even into th

or. I could just stop, buy it for m

ed my foot back

would remember. He had to. T

myself there would be something bigger. A surprise party, perhaps. A grand gesture. A cake far larger than anything I

a sliver of disappointment pierce through my hope. Only Braxton's black sedan was th

door. The grand foy

voice sounded small in the

of my own vo

heart still foolishly full, calling out names that nobody

k terrace. Bonnie. My heart leaped into my throat. I had walke

and celebrate another woman's birthday with my cake,

his Alpha senses on high alert.

s, my heart hammering against

," I heard

, growing louder, closer. I held my breat

es scanning the living room. His gaze landed on the shar

dropped it. Not a flicker of thought for his w

oya

ess on his floor.

might mean I was here. That I might be standing just out of sight. That I might be h

e's a mess in the living room. Broken glass.

hun

ned and walked back outside, sl

celebration, their perfect little family

ed out from beh

ss. It glittered on the floor like

k. I walked up the sweeping stairc

ht in my eyes had final