My Alpha Raised a Secret Son with His Mistress

Synopsis

The conference room smelled like cedar polish and three different Alpha colognes, and I had spent the last forty minutes proving — quietly, in clean black ink — that I was the only person at the table who had actually read all sixty-two pages of the treaty. Aaron sat to my right, one hand resting on the back of my chair like a prop. He laughed at the Blackridge Alpha's joke a beat too late. I clocked it and let it pass. "Clause nine," I said, sliding the page across. "Hunting rights revert if either party defaults on the quarterly tithe. That's non-negotiable." Alpha Doran of Stonewater squinted at the paragraph. "You drafted this, Luna?" "I drafted all of it." Aaron's hand drifted from my chair to my shoulder. Warm. Familiar.