Chapter 4
The Grand Ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton glittered with crystal chandeliers and the polished smiles of werewolf aristocracy. The summit reception was in full swing, champagne flowing as freely as the political alliances being forged. I smoothed the silk of my midnight blue gown—a far cry from the white dress I'd worn at Barrett's ceremony four years ago.
"Mrs. Wallace," Marcus Stone, Malcolm's Beta, appeared at my elbow with a fresh glass of champagne. "The Alpha King sends his regards. He's running late from the council meeting."
I smiled, accepting the glass. "Thank you, Marcus. I'm sure he'll make an entrance when he arrives."
Marcus's eyes scanned the room protectively. "He asked me to stay close to you."
"Malcolm worries too much," I said, though I knew it was more statement than complaint. My mate's protective nature was one of the things I'd come to cherish most.
Across the room, I spotted him—Barrett, his head bent attentively toward an elderly Alpha from the Northern Territories. He wore a tailored black suit that emphasized his broad shoulders, his dark hair slicked back. Even from this distance, I could see the animation in his face as he spoke, gesturing emphatically.
"He's looking for you," Marcus murmured, following my gaze.
"The Luna of Blood River," I corrected. "Not me."
"Same difference."
I took a sip of champagne, watching as Barrett excused himself from the conversation and began making his way around the perimeter of the room. His eyes darted from face to face, searching.
"The Silver Moon Alpha has been asking about your pack all evening," Marcus continued. "Something about a treaty for shared hunting grounds."
"I know," I replied. "Malcolm mentioned it. Barrett needs Blood River's support to expand his territory north."
Barrett's gaze swept across the room again, and this time it locked onto me. Recognition flashed across his face, followed by confusion, then something darker. He changed course, heading directly toward us.
"Amelia," he said as he approached, his voice tight with controlled anger. "What are you doing here?"
"Attending the reception," I replied evenly. "Just like you."
"This is a private event for pack leaders and their delegations." His eyes narrowed. "How did you get in?"
Marcus straightened beside me, his presence solid and reassuring. "Mr. Lee, I assure you—"
"I wasn't speaking to you," Barrett snapped, his Alpha aura flaring. He grabbed my arm, fingers digging into my skin. "I want to know why you're stalking me."
I looked pointedly at his hand until he released me. "I'm not stalking anyone, Barrett."
"Then what are you doing at my summit?" His voice dropped lower. "Following me from the boutique to here?"
"I'm here on official business," I said, keeping my voice level despite the irritation building inside me.
"Official business?" He laughed, the sound harsh. "What official business could a rogue possibly have at a Lycan Summit?"
I felt Marcus tense beside me, but I placed a subtle hand on his arm. This wasn't his battle.
"Last I checked," Barrett continued, "rogues weren't invited to diplomatic receptions."
He squared his shoulders, drawing himself up to his full height. The Alpha aura around him intensified as he prepared to assert his dominance.
"I command you to leave," he said, his voice carrying the unmistakable weight of an Alpha order. "I command you to leave this reception immediately, rogue."
The command washed over me like water over stone—present but powerless. I took another sip of champagne, my hand steady.
"No," I said simply.
Barrett blinked, momentarily stunned. "What did you say?"
"I said no." I smiled, a small curve of my lips. "I'm not leaving."
"That's not possible," he whispered, confusion replacing anger. "You can't resist an Alpha command."
"Perhaps she's deaf," Giana suggested, appearing at Barrett's side. Her hand rested protectively on her swollen belly. "Or broken. Rejection can do that to a wolf."
I set my champagne glass down on a passing waiter's tray. "Neither deaf nor broken, I assure you."
Barrett's eyes darted between Marcus and me, trying to process what was happening. "Who are you with?"
"Blood River Pack," Marcus answered before I could.
Barrett's expression shifted from confusion to suspicion. "You're with Wallace's pack? As what?"
Before I could respond, a young server approached with a tray of canapés. As he passed, I caught Myla's scent on him—she must have sent him to find me.
"Mommy!" Her voice echoed in my mind. "Daddy says dinner soon!"
I smiled, making my decision. This harassment needed to end, and the treaty discussions deserved a more controlled environment.
"Barrett, Giana," I said, straightening my shoulders. "Would you join us for dinner tomorrow evening? My penthouse suite at The Plaza. Eight o'clock."
Giana's eyes widened with surprise, then narrowed with suspicion. "Why would you invite us to dinner?"
"To discuss the treaty," I replied smoothly. "And other matters."
Barrett studied me, his expression unreadable. "You're inviting us to your... penthouse?"
"Yes."
He nodded slowly, a self-satisfied smile spreading across his face. "Finally ready to beg for your place back in Silver Moon?"
I didn't correct him. Let him believe what he wanted. Tomorrow would come soon enough.
"Eight o'clock," I confirmed, turning back to Marcus. "Now, shall we find the ambassador?"
As we walked away, I could feel Barrett's eyes boring into my back, his confusion and curiosity a tangible presence in the room. Tomorrow, he would learn exactly who Amelia Harvey had become—and it wasn't what he expected.
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