Chapter 80 Tamara
Alexander’s thumbs were still working slowly, firm circles into the arch of my left foot, the pressure just right, enough to melt the tension. Then the double doors swung open.
Alexander and I turned at the same time.
Tamara strode in like she owned the place, heels clicking sharply on the parquet floor, one of the security wolves trailing behind her with the stiff posture of someone who’d rather be anywhere else. Her cream coat was slung over one arm, designer handbag dangling from the crook of her elbow, her dark swept into a high, glossy ponytail that swung with every step. She looked polished, expensive, untouchable.
Speak of the devil, I thought, and my appetite vanished like smoke.
Alexander’s hands stilled on my foot. I felt the subtle shift in his body, spine straightening, shoulders squaring, even though his face stayed carefully neutral.
Tamara didn’t break stride. She hurried straight to him, arms opening, and before I could blink she bent and wrapped herself around his seated form in a tight hug. Her cheek pressed to the top of his head; her fingers curled into the back of his shirt.
I froze. My fork clattered softly against the porcelain plate.
Alexander was shocked too, I could tell by the way his breath caught, by the half-second delay before his hands came up. Gently, very gently, he grasped her upper arms and eased her off him, creating space.
“Tamara,” he said, voice low and even. “What are you doing here?”
She straightened, smoothing her blouse with quick, practiced movements, eyes bright with what looked like genuine worry. “I was so scared when I heard you were wounded in the pack war. You’ve never been wounded in any war, Alexander. Never. I wasn’t in the country, but I dropped everything, finished my meetings in Paris as fast as I could and flew back. On the phone you sounded okay, but I had to see you. I had to make sure you were really fine.”
Her gaze flicked over him, searching for bandages, for any sign of weakness, then slid past me entirely, as if I were part of the furniture.
Alexander exhaled through his nose. “I’m fine. You shouldn’t have come back because of me. The injury was minor. Healed already.”
Tamara ignored that. She was still standing close, too close, her perfume drifting over the table like an unwelcome guest. “Can we talk privately?”
Alexander’s eyes cut to me. Just for a second. Long enough for me to see the question in them: Are you okay with this?
Before I could answer, Tamara finally acknowledged I existed. She turned her head, pasted on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and said in a syrupy tone, “Oh, Maddie. How are you?”
“I’m alright,” I said quietly.
“I’m so worried about him,” she continued, pressing a manicured hand to her chest. “I didn’t even notice you there. Sorry.” The concern was so fake I could almost taste the artificial sweetener.
“It’s fine,” I replied, forcing my voice steady.
She turned back to Alexander. “Can we speak privately?”
“About what?”
“I said privately.”
Alexander’s jaw tightened, just a fraction. “You can say it here. Maddie is not an outsider.”
Tamara scoffed softly, a sound that somehow managed to be elegant and cutting at the same time. “Fine. If you can’t stand up right now, I can see you’re… busy.” Her gaze dropped pointedly to my legs still resting across his lap, my bare feet cradled in his hands. The disdain was unmistakable.
She moved to the chair opposite us, sank down gracefully, crossed her legs, and tilted her head at me. “I guess Ben isn’t around for you to be this cozy with your father-in-law.”
The words landed like a slap. My pulse kicked up. I met her gaze head-on. “Even if he were around, I’d still be this cozy with him. We’re getting a divorce. Ending this fake marriage.”
The words came out clearer and stronger than I expected. I was surprised at my own voice, at the steel in it.
Alexander’s hand found mine under the table and squeezed once, approving.
Tamara blinked. Then Alexander spoke, calm and certain. “Yes. She’s ending it. And we’re getting married, for real. Before our baby arrives.”
Tamara’s eyes widened so fast I almost laughed. “What baby?” Her voice cracked on the last word, rising in pitch.
Alexander chuckled, low, dangerous, satisfied. He lifted our joined hands and placed them on the small but unmistakable swell of my belly. “Maddie’s pregnant.”
I looked her straight in the eyes and let a small, smug smile curve my lips.
For a heartbeat she looked like she’d been struck. Then she recovered, pasting on another brittle smile. “Wow. Congratulations.” Her tone dripped acid. “I guess it’s because of the baby you want to marry her, or…?”
Alexander’s thumb stroked over my knuckles. “It’s not just because of the baby. She’s my mate. I decided to marry her before we even found out about the pregnancy.”
Tamara’s gaze snapped to me. “I guess you finally found your ticket out of poverty.”
The insult hit like a slap, sharp, personal, meant to wound. My mouth opened, fury rising hot in my throat…
Alexander cut in, voice like ice cracking over a frozen lake. “Tamara. Leave. Get out. And never come back. Don’t ever disrespect Maddie like that again.”
She laughed, a short, incredulous sound. “You know that’s the truth. She tried to use Ben and it didn’t work, so she had to seduce you. Oh, I forgot. She’s your mate.” She sneered at the word like it tasted foul. “But you know this mate thing is bullshit…”
“I said get out.” His voice dropped to something lethal, alpha power rolling off him in waves. The air in the room thickened; even the security wolf by the door shifted uncomfortably.
Tamara stood slowly, smoothing her skirt with deliberate grace. She looked down at me, one long, venomous glance that promised this wasn’t over, then snatched her handbag from the chair. Without another word she turned and walked out, heels echoing down the corridor until the front door slammed somewhere far away.
Silence settled, heavy and thick.
Alexander exhaled, long and slow. Then he tugged me closer, wrapping both arms around me and pulling me against his chest. I went willingly, burying my face in the crook of his neck. His scent was something wild and warm, wrapped around me like a blanket.
“Don’t worry about Tamara,” he murmured into my hair. “I’ll take care of her. I know she’ll try to stir up trouble, but it’s nothing for you to worry about. Just focus on taking care of yourself and the baby.” His big hand slid down to cup the gentle curve of my stomach. He pressed a soft, reverent kiss there. “I will always protect you, both of you.”
We stayed like that for a long time, his heartbeat steady under my cheek, his hand warm and protective over our child. The food on the table had gone cold, forgotten.
Eventually Clara appeared, quiet as always, to clear the plates. She didn’t comment on the tension still lingering in the air; she just gathered everything efficiently and left.
I pulled back slightly, looking up at him. “I need to go to my room, freshen up, study, finals are in less than three weeks.”
Alexander’s mouth curved. “You can move to my room.”
I smiled. “Not yet.”