Chapter 61
Drake
I stared at my phone as it buzzed in my hand, the name “Elsa” flashing on the screen. Her third goddamn call today. Without
hesitation, I pressed the decline button, silencing her persistence with a swipe of my thumb.
“Drake?” Vera’s voice was soft, a practiced vulnerability that made her seem smaller, weaker than she was. She stood at the
doorway of her parents’ estate, her slender figure framed by the grand entrance. “Who was that?”
I slipped the phone into my pocket, but Vera’s sharp eyes had already caught the caller ID. Shit.
“It’s nothing.” I handed her the box of custom-made cupcakes from the Silver Moon Bakery, a peace offering I’d brought to
soothe her earlier tantrum about some designer purse.
Vera’s lips trembled as she took the box, her eyes filling with tears. “You said she wouldn’t call your personal number anymore.
You promised me, Drake.”
The scent of her distress hit my nostrils-sweet and tangy, like overripe fruit. My wolf stirred in response, the alpha in me
unable to resist a female’s apparent suffering.
“You’re right.” I cupped her cheek, wiping away a tear with my thumb. It was slick and perfect, no saltiness or redness around
her eyes. Vera had always been an expert at crying on command. “I’ll take care of it right now.”
I powered off my phone completely, a strange heaviness settling in my gut. ” I’ll get a new number. Only you will have it.”
Her smile bloomed instantly, tears magically disappearing. “Thank you, Drake.” She pressed herself against me.
A car horn blared, interrupting the moment. Taylor leaned out of my custom Range Rover, his impatience evident in the
furrow of his brow.
“Is the date over yet? Jason’s called me fifteen fucking times. Says the party’s starting.” He glanced at his watch pointedly.
“And you know how he gets when people are late to his events.”
Vera giggled, wrapping herself around my arm like a vine claiming territory. “Just five more minutes?”
I’d already spent two mind-numbing hours listening to her talk about some reality TV show and the rival debutantes in her
social circle. But the adoring way she looked up at me, her submission so clear and enticing to me.
“Let’s go,” I said to Taylor, leading Vera to the car. “Jason can wait a few more minutes.”
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In the back seat, I pulled out my new phone-sleek, untraceable, and most importantly, a number that Elsa didn’t have. i d called Kayla earlier, barking orders at her to have a new SIM card ready within the hour.
“I need a new number. Completely untraceable. Have it on my desk by noon,” I’d demanded.
The poor girl had stammered something about carrier procedures and waiting periods.
“I don’t give a fuck about procedures. Make it happen or clean out your desk.”
An hour later, she’d personally delivered the new card to my car, her hands trembling as she handed over the small plastic
package. I hadn’t thanked her.
I’d already shared the new number with everyone who mattered: Taylor, Jason, my father, and of course, Vera. The knowledge
that I’d cut off Elsa’s direct line to me brought a strange mix of satisfaction and discomfort that twisted in my gut like a knife.
So why did I feel like such an asshole?
By the time we arrived at the Moon Night Club, Jason’s VIP room was already filled with pack members, the bass thumping
through the walls like a heartbeat. Vera clung to me as we entered, her presence announced by the jingling of the diamond
bracelet I’d given her last week.
“Finally!” Jason raised his glass. “The alpha has arrived!”
I settled into the plush leather couch, pulling Vera down beside me. I plucked a red grape from the fruit platter, peeling it
carefully before placing it between her waiting lips. It was an intimate gesture I’d never performed for anyone else.
“Young girls need to be spoiled,” I said, stroking Vera’s hair as she pretended to be embarrassed by the attention. “Isn’t that
right, sweetheart?”
Jason took a long sip of his whiskey, his eyes lingering on my hand in Vera’s hair. “I always thought you preferred mature
women, to be honest. Like Elsa.” He gave a low whistle. “That body of hers is prime grade, Drake. Absolute top-shelf. Those
curves, man. Fucking incredible.”
My wolf snarled internally at his assessment of what was mine-had been mine-but I kept my expression neutral, bored even.
Inside, my blood boiled at the thought of Jason’s eyes on Elsa’s body.
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Ruby Walker is a rising voice in the world of romance and spicy fiction. With a gift for weaving deep emotions, sizzling chemistry, and unexpected twists, her stories are a blend of passion and drama that captivate readers from start to finish. Ruby’s writing style is bold and irresistible—perfect for those who crave intense, addictive love stories.

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