PREGNANT AND CLAIMED BY THE WRONG ALPHA
“I-“ she began but hesitated. The bowl contained apples, avocados, oranges, berries, watermelon— honestly, it was impossible for her to hate it. But at the thought of fruits, her thoughts drifted, uninvited, to a memory she hadn’t expected.
Harold. And the way he used to insist on mangoes, always the ripest ones, their deep green leaves still clinging to the stems as if they had just been picked.
“Yes,” she said finally. “Yes, actually.”
“Then say it.”
“Mangoes.”
Alaric nodded once. “I’ll have it brought to you tomorrow.”
“What?” She looked up at met his eyes. God, those green eyes.
His gaze shifted to the fruit in her hand. “For now, you’ll eat what’s here.”
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