All Chapters of Alpha’s Little Plaything : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Draco’s PoV I’d been tightening like a coiled wire all morning, every polite smile I’d given Marla at the gates a knife in my gut. The forest should have been mine this morning — my sanctuary, the one place I could breathe when the world closed in — and instead it felt like a chessboard where she moved all the pieces. “You don’t have to be here, Marla,” I said, low enough that only she could hear. The equipment hummed around us. The crew shuffled props, oblivious. “You’re making this shoot impossible.” She turned with that rehearsed smile, which had charmed half the city and hardened the rest. “Oh, Draco, don’t be dramatic. I’m helping. Dad wanted everything perfect. You know how important this commercial is. It is for the new cell phone that promises services even in the most remote of places.” Perfect. As if her version of “perfect” didn’t include maneuvering every little thing to her advantage. I watched the fabric of her dress ripple as she walked, and I noticed the imperi

Draco’s PoV I carried her in my arms to the jeep, refusing to let her walk on her shaky legs. She clung to me, her face hidden in my chest, trembling from what had just happened. My man drove us to a larger cabin—away from the chaos, away from the danger. When we arrived, she finally lifted her head. “Wait, Draco? Where did you bring me? Brea is still back at the cabins.” “She’ll be fine, baby girl. Leon’s with her, and you know how persistent he is.” Even through her fear, she chuckled softly, leaning her head back on me. That small sound was enough to ease the storm raging in my chest. “Why were you shirtless in the forest?” she asked, eyes narrowed despite the softness in her voice. “Looking for you,” I answered truthfully. “Why did you wander so far away from the cabins?” She stiffened, her gaze sliding away. “I wanted some fresh air and I… got lost.” My gut twisted, but I didn’t press her now. Not when she was still shaking. I helped her down from the jeep, my hand

Draco’s PoV I left with Marla, my patience stretched thin. She was a tempest, a storm fueled by anger, entitlement, and years of being backed unquestioningly by Alpha Magnus and my own father, Alpha Roman. When she raged, logic left her entirely—recklessness taking its place. Every second with her now was calculated; I had to make sure there was no proof of Loriah spending the night with me. Soon, I would flaunt her, walk her arm in arm for the world to see, but first, the divorce. A reasonable distance in time would ensure my intentions weren’t mistaken for scandal. Right now, though, Loriah was ghosting me, refusing to hear my side. And the gnawing thought haunted me—she could be my mate. Maybe even a second chance fate had handed me. I couldn’t ignore it. I called Sister Nora as the car rolled through the city streets. “I’m coming for the bracelet,” I said, my voice taut with urgency. At the convent, she waited in her office. I passed my fingers over the tiny bracelet she ha

Loriah’s PoV Draco’s hands were warm and impossibly strong on my face, thumbs at my cheekbones like he was steadying me against something I couldn’t see. His eyes were dark, a storm threatening to break. “How did you meet Caspian Steel?” he demanded, each word low and dangerous. I swallowed, still tasting him on my lips from the kiss, feeling the ache of his fist on my dress. “I was signed with his label before—before I came to yours. He was out of the country when my contract ended. He thought I’d renew. When I didn’t… well, he didn’t take it well.” The rumble in his chest answered me before he could. A deep, vibrating sound that made the hair along my arms stand up. It frightened and thrilled me at the same time. “So it’s true,” he breathed. “He’s been pestering you all these years while I—” His voice cut off into that low growl and I flinched, half afraid he’d snap the world in two. I reached up and laid my hand over his heart because I needed to know he was real. “How d

Marla’s PoV I glided downstairs for breakfast, my silk robe swishing around my ankles. The dining room was already alive with clinking china and the scent of freshly baked bread. My parents sat at the head of the long mahogany table, while the maids bustled about, pouring coffee and arranging platters of fruit and smoked meats. Niles, our butler, entered with his usual composure, a folded newspaper in hand. He bowed slightly before setting it in front of my father. I smirked, sipping delicately from my cup. “For a man whose whole fortune revolves around technology, you’re still so old-fashioned, Father. Why not just read the news on your phone like everyone else?” He looked at me, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips—until his eyes flicked to the front page. The air shifted. My father’s chair scraped harshly against the floor as he stood abruptly, his knuckles whitening as the newspaper crumpled in his grip. His face contorted with rage, so dark and furious it m