8

Tarian POV

"Fuck me, Ramsey! Fuck me!"

The frantic, breathless moans echoed off the marble foyer the second I unlocked the front door to my private house. I had built this house in hopes to give it as a gift to my late first wife. I froze on the threshold, a dark scowl instantly contorting my face.

I walked into the living room to find my Beta and childhood best friend, Ramsey, wildly ramming into the red-haired Omega housekeeper, Melissa, right on my custom leather sofa.

She was the new girl I had personally hired to keep this estate in order—a quiet property away from the main packhouse where I went whenever the crushing weight of the kingdom and my mother's nagging became too much to bear.

It has now become my safe haven, hence the disgruntling annoyance seeing my best friend fuck someone on my couch.

"What the fuck, Ramsey?!" I roared, my voice booming across the room like a crack of thunder. "Fucking the damn housekeeper on my couch?!"

The two of them scrambled apart in a blur of sheer panic. Melissa practically tumbled onto the floor, pulling her dress down with trembling hands and whispering frantic apologies before sprinting out of sight toward the staff quarters.

Her round butt cheeks jiggling behind her.

Ramsey, entirely unbothered, calmly buckled his belt, tossed his button-down shirt over his shoulders, and cracked a smirking grin. "Yo! Man, I’m sorry, but that bitch has one of the absolute best pussies ever."

Now I know Ramsey was reckless, a miserable cheat but I did not expect him to descend so low to sleeping with the house keeper.

My house keeper!!

I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a migraine building behind my eyes. "How are we even friends, Ramsey? Seriously. Because I, for one, cannot stomach the shit you do. You know how much I detest cheating—especially knowing you have a stunning, loyal woman like Cassandra waiting for you at home as your mate."

He was an unrepentant, shameless cheat, and he knew it. But we had been like brothers since we were pups, and no matter how much his lack of self control disgusted me, I was stuck with him.

Ramsey scoffed, waving a dismissive hand as he poured himself a glass of my scotch. "Relax, Tarian. You need to unwind and stop being so damn hard on yourself. What you need is a sweet, tight woman to fuck your brains out and milk that dick. Lack of sex is the only reason you have massive anger issues and stay grumpy all the fucking time."

"That’s not happening," I snapped, leaning against the edge of the tall desk. "I am still very much in love with Moriah, and I refuse to cheat on her memory."

Ramsey paused, his smirk fading into a look of sheer frustration. "Tarian, Moriah died five years ago. And you are literally about to get married to someone else! How is it fair to anyone that you're still pining over your dead first wife?"

"This whole damn marriage was my mother's idea, not mine!" I growled, my knuckles turning white against the wood. "And I can't stand the girl she chose. Livyana is overbearing in the most annoying way—she smiles like a brainless fool, has zero personality, and is way too timid for comfort. She is nothing like Moriah."

Ramsey took a slow sip of his drink, chuckling softly. "Speaking of your bride-to-be... I've seen her picture, man. That girl is a natural beauty. You need to stop looking for Moriah in every single woman you meet and actually open your heart to loving her."

I huffed a harsh, dry laugh. "If 'loving your wife' means doing what you do to Cassandra—cheating on her and fucking every thing on skirt that crosses your path—I would rather stay single and be stuck with Moriah's memory for the rest of my life."

Ramsey rolled his eyes, putting the glass down. “You do yourself a disservice Man, sex is good for the soul. Lots of sex.”

"Now excuse me. I want to be alone," I said coldly, gesturing toward the exit.

Ramsey walked toward the door, stopping at the threshold as he remembered something.

"Wait, when is the actual wedding date anyway?"

"Tomorrow."

Ramsey whipped around, his jaw practically dropped. "Tomorrow?!"

"Yes, tomorrow," I replied flatly, turning my back on him. "I want this whole circus over and done with. I have no intention of letting this drag out like it's an actual, real marriage."