Reject My Alpha President (Iris and Arthur) novel Chapter 186

“To new beginnings,” Arthur says softly, clinking his glass against mine. I smile and take a sip. The champagne is crisp and cold, bubbles dancing on my tongue. I lean back on one elbow, gazing up at the mural again.

“You know,” I say thoughtfully, “I’ve always loved that this mural shows humans and werewolves as equals, building Ordan together. Most historical accounts erase the human contribution.”

Arthur follows my gaze upward. “The artist was ahead of his time.” He laces his fingers through mine. “I hope to change that, you know.”

I blink, surprised. “What do you mean?”

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He shrugs one shoulder, the gesture looking positively delicious in the crisp fisherman’s sweater he’s wearing. You and I are making history, Iris. Not that I chose to go public with our relationship simply for that reason, but… I hope we can show the next generation that love always prevails, regardless of background.”

My face heats, and I lean my head on his shoulder without even thinking about it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I hope so too.”

We eat slowly, talking about everything and nothing–Miles‘ latest drawings, a book Arthur’s been reading, a new painting technique I’ve been experimenting with.

But as we finish the last of the champagne, the sound of music drifts through the rotunda. I look around in surprise to see a violinist standing at the edge of the room. I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand. “Arthur, you didn’t…”

“I did.” He stands, offering me his hand. “Dance with me?”

I nod and place my hand in his, letting him draw me to my feet. His arm circles my waist, drawing me close. My hand finds his shoulder, and our other hands clasp together We begin to sway, not followin pattern, just moving together in time with the music.

y particular dance

As we turn slowly across the marble floor, I rest my head against Arthur’s chest, hearing the steady thump of his heart beneath my ear.

All the anxiety and discomfort of yesterday’s photoshoot seems far away now. The pressure of fitting into Arthur’s world, of measuring up to expectations, of being someone I’m not–none of it matters in this moment.

I nod, although I wish we could stay in this perfect bubble forever. We gather up the remnants of our picnic and head out.

When we arrive at my building, Arthur walks me to my door, his hand warm at the small of my back. At the threshold, he pulls me close for another kiss, this one slower, deeper, filled with promise.

“Thank you for tonight,” I say when we finally part. “It was perfect.”

“You’re perfect,” he replies, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “And there’s more of this to come. Trust me. I’ve got years of making up to do.”

His words resonate with me; there’s a lot of making up that I want to do on my part. I know he needs to leave–he has early meetings tomorrow, responsibilities that can’t wait. But as he reluctantly steps back, I catch his wrist, pulling him toward me.

“Stay,” I say, my gaze meaningful as I look up at him through my lashes. “Stay the night.”

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