CHAPTER 3

DOMINIC

AARA WAS ALREADY PACING THE KITCHEN when I finally exited the training facility and navigated my way to the Cheshire estate we’d inhabited for nearly a decade. The scent of searing poultry and garlic hit me the moment I crossed the threshold; he was mid-prep on some elaborate pasta dish.

"Hey Aara, how was your rotation?"

"Stagnant, mostly," he muttered, his back remaining a rigid wall between us as he stirred a simmering pot. "Yours?"

"The usual grind. Tactical meetings, salary cap disputes, and cooling the heels of rookies who think they’re already Hall of Famers."

"So, the same old circus, then?" The jab was delivered with a hint of his signature wit as Aara turned, offering a fleeting, dry kiss as a greeting.

"Sounds about right." I reached out, plunging a finger into the thick white sauce bubbling on the range. "Hell, that’s incredible."

"I’m relieved you approve. This was the blueprint we practiced in the culinary seminar last weekend."

"I completely blanked on the fact that you were pursuing that chef’s certification. How’s the progress?"

"Fluctuating," he grumbled, a shadow crossing his features. "Don't stress, I managed to execute this one without burning the house down." Aara’s frown finally cracked into a smirk, a soft chuckle escaping him when he caught my apprehensive look. My mate had decided to refine his kitchen skills because he was adamant that our pups—when we finally sired them—shouldn't grow up thinking their father was genetically incapable of boiling water. Aara’s culinary track record was legendary for its inconsistency. He either produced a Michelin-star masterpiece or a biohazard, and there was never any logical explanation for why his recipes failed so spectacularly.

"You were out of the den before the sun was up this morning. Is there a play I should be aware of?"

Aara’s shoulders locked, but he quickly shook his head, focusing on the pasta. "I just had some logistics to finalize for a gala I’m coordinating."

"I wasn't aware you’d added another event to your roster. Who’s the client?"

He waved the inquiry away as if it were a persistent gnat. "It’s minor. Just assisting one of the pack elders with a private social she’s hosting."

"Hmm." The sound of suspicion escaped me before I could mask it. "Are you contemplating a full-scale business launch? Moving beyond the charity board committees?"

Aara shrugged, offering no further intel.

"It might not be the most strategic window to initiate a startup while we're actively trying to conceive," I suggested gently.

Aara let out a sharp huff of irritation, stirring the sauce with sudden, violent vigor. "I’m simply doing a comrade a favor, Dominic, not attempting to conquer the corporate world," my mate snapped.

"Easy, there's no call for that tone," I countered. "You never mentioned you were assisting anyone, so I’m left to fill in the blanks with my own assumptions."

"You’re right. I’m sorry." Aara’s posture slumped in what looked like total exhaustion. I almost felt a pang of guilt, except for the nagging feeling that everyone in my life had been feeding me edited versions of the truth lately. Unfortunately for my mate, he was the only one, besides Clara, whom I could usually vent to about my frustrations.

"I could have sworn I tracked Adrian’s scent this morning outside that new artisan bakery you’ve been obsessed with lately."

Aara’s spine snapped straight again. "Adrian is stationed at the Portsmouth base."

"That was my understanding as well, but he’s ghosting my pings, and I’d wager my entire signing bonus it was him. He practically dove into an alley to avoid me."

Aara let out a laugh, but the frequency was off—it sounded brittle, forced. "Why on earth would your cousin need to mask his scent from you?"

"That’s precisely what I intend to find out, but I can’t get the bastard on a secure line long enough to interrogate him."

"Well, you know the old pack saying. Everyone has a doppelgänger in the urban wild. Perhaps you just saw a stranger with his bone structure."

It was unsettling that he didn't even question why Adrian would be unreachable. Aara had finished plating the meal, so I allowed the tension to drop while he served us. Everything about the interaction felt skewed, and a dark suspicion began to take root—the idea that his erratic behavior was somehow linked to Adrian’s secret presence in the city. Clara’s warning about red flags flashed in my mind, but I forced it back. Neither Aara nor Adrian were capable of that level of pack betrayal—especially not with each other.

Still, the anxiety festered, souring my hunger. As I sat across from my mate, I had to force the food down. I knew the flavor should be exceptional, given the sample I'd tasted earlier. Instead, the pasta felt like ash in my mouth while I replayed the warning signs my mate and my cousin were broadcasting with every guarded look.

AARA

"APOLOGIES FOR ALL THE SUBTERFUGE, BUT I’M TELLING YOU, LIVING with Dominic lately is like being under 24-hour surveillance by the pack elders." Adrian laughed before sliding a forkful of seared tuna into his mouth.

“Speaking of surveillance,” he muttered, scooting my chair closer to his and tilting his screen toward me. “We need to broadcast a status update for my fiancée before she starts suspecting I’m out here going rogue, too.”

I rolled my eyes but held a smile for the selfie he snapped of us. “Send my regards to Daniela and tell her I’ll link up with her soon. This clandestine gala planning is shredding my nerves.”

“Perhaps the solution is simple: just tell the man you’re orchestrating a celebration.”

“No!” I insisted, leaning in. “It’s the one thing I’ve heard him mention—the one dream he thinks is impossible for anyone to actually pull off. Come on, Adrian. What are the chances that my Alpha married a man who specializes in event logistics, and he happens to secretly crave a surprise homecoming? It felt like the moon-bond when we met. This is even better.”

“You’re attempting to conceive and you're red-lining your stress levels with all this spycraft,” Adrian pointed out, his voice dropping to a serious frequency. “That’s not exactly the optimal environment for fertility.” He emphasized the point by glancing toward my abdomen, which was hidden by the edge of the bistro table.

The meal turned to lead in my stomach as I pulled out the heavy leather binder containing the gala’s blueprints. I chose to bypass his concern, pushing forward as if he hadn’t spoken. “The cake design is locked in. It’ll be delivered to the estate while Clara keeps him occupied at the HQ. I’ll have to move it to Windermere Park from there.”

Adrian snorted, a half-chuckle escaping him. “I’ll give you this, Aara: you’re the only mate who wouldn't be snarling at that arrangement. I’m not in the district often since I’m based in Portsmouth, but even I can tell that Dominic’s assistant is practically howling for him to notice her.”

“That is remarkably unsettling,” I hissed, the hair on my neck beginning to prickle. “Seriously, why would you drop a bomb like that into this conversation?” It made me physically ill to imagine Dominic falling for the cliché of the predatory secretary—especially since she was striking, sharp, and clearly dedicated to her 'upkeep.' She was only a year older than I was, but the reality was she spent significantly more hours in my husband's presence than I did most days.

“My bad. I just assumed you’d picked up the scent yourself.”

I shook my head, my voice firm. “I have total faith in Dominic.”

“Of course you do. That doesn’t mean you should trust his second-in-command not to push the boundaries of the bond. I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention, but her wardrobe has been getting more restrictive and shorter over the last four quarters. she played the professional, reserved part for the first six months, but now the claws are out. Her hemlines are retreating faster than a losing team.”

“God! I have enough on my plate with the logistics of this party and the pressure to sire an heir, and now you’re dumping this toxic trash into my head?”

Adrian slid back toward me, pulling me into a brief, bracing side-hug. “I’m sorry. I wasn't trying to add to the burden. I just want you to be alert. Your husband can be a bit oblivious when it comes to how other males or females project their interest. He would never betray the bond, but he might miss the subtle manipulation until he’s already caught in the trap. I don't want you blindsided if he returns home smelling like her scent markers or with her lip gloss on his collar.”

I gasped, my blood boiling with a mix of fury and fear at the suggestion that Dominic might succumb to Clara's calculated charms.

“Not intentionally. I mean, she might engineer a situation to make it look like a betrayal, just to sow discord in the den.”

“Jesus, Adrian!” I hissed, slamming the gala planner shut with a thud that turned heads in the bar. “We need to pivot. Your conversation skills are currently at a zero.”

“My mistake,” he muttered, looking genuinely sheepish. “I love you and my dense cousin, and I don’t want to see that viper stir up trouble. She seems like the type who enjoys the hunt, and you need to be ready.”

“I was worried about Dominic thinking I was being deceptive—because I am. Now, you’ve got me terrified he’s going to stray every time he steps into the Carrillo offices. Clara didn't need to plant a seed of doubt, because you just did.” Adrian winced, reaching out to squeeze my hand. He leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“I’m sorry. You know the man. He’d never step out. You are his north star. Hell, the idiot thinks you’re his soulmate because your first meeting fell on his birthday. Then you went and validated that madness by agreeing to a wedding on his following birthday.” Adrian rolled his eyes affectionately. “He will be the happiest Alpha alive when he realizes you actually pulled off the one thing he thought was impossible.”

“Once this gala is in the past, I’m going to insist he recruits a new assistant.”

“Probably the smartest play. Tell him to hire a male Beta next time.”

I turned, scanning the room for a server to settle the tab, and my heart stopped. The very person we had been dissecting was standing near the entrance, her eyes fixed on us. “Is that Clara?” I whispered, my voice tight.

By the time Adrian shifted to look, the woman had retreated further into the shadows of the alcove by the restrooms and the kitchen service door.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, ignoring Adrian’s skeptical head shake.

“I didn’t see anyone, Aara. I’ve clearly made you paranoid.”

“I’m heading to the restroom. Just flag the server while I’m gone.”

“On it.” I didn't stay to listen to the rest of his response.

I was certain it was Clara. She’d had her phone raised, positioned as if she were capturing a recording of our intimate-looking huddle. I couldn't fathom why she’d be filming us, considering she was supposed to be a key player in the surprise logistics. In fact, she was the one variable I’d worried about. After the reality check Adrian just delivered regarding her designs on my husband, I was terrified she was planning to sabotage the entire homecoming.

I rounded the corner, but the hallway was a ghost town. I stepped into the restroom, checking under the stalls to ensure she wasn't lurking in the shadows. It was empty. Perhaps Adrian was right; the toxic conversation had conjured a phantom. It could have been a member of the staff who shared her silhouette. It might not have even been a phone in her hand.

But the cold knot in my gut wouldn't loosen. I wanted to strike Adrian for planting that insecurity. I had never, not once in our entire history, doubted my husband’s loyalty. I still didn't. However, I now had a visceral, growing fear regarding his assistant. What if she really did intend to drive a wedge into our bond? Would Dominic be thick enough to miss the bait? I was already falling for her shadow-games, seeing her in places she couldn't possibly be.