Fake Mating To My Ex's Powerful Enemy

Christina's POV

Beatrice screamed and leapt off his lap. "Christina?! Are you insane?! What are you doing here?!"

She scrambled to find a lie,"You're misunderstanding, it's not what you think-"

Niall cut her off, his hand gripping her arm."Don't bother explaining, Beatrice.It doesn't matter. Your parents will take our side. We're just correcting an old mistake."

Beatrice's panic instantly turned into smugness. She curled into his side and cooed, "Oh, honey, your head's bleeding. We have to get to the hospital."

Niall calmly took a tissue from one of his guards, dabbing at the blood on his forehead. "So now you know everything."

Before I could respond, Ysolde rushed forward, her hand raised to slap Beatrice. "You filthy bitch-"

Niall's hand shot out, gripping Ysolde's wrist brutally. His voice was ice-cold. "My woman isn't for some nobody from a backwater pack to insult. Playing the hero? Know your place."

My heart sank. Right. He was a powerful Alpha. I couldn't fight him head-on.

But I still had the glass shard in my hand.

I moved quickly, yanking Beatrice in front of me and pressing the jagged edge to her cheek. "Let go of my friend, or I'll make sure your woman's face matches her personality. After all, even with werewolf healing, scars still show, don't they?"

Niall's eyes flashed dangerously. "You wouldn't dare."

"You've been having an affair with my sister for four years behind my back," I said calmly. "How do you think it'll look when that story gets out? Not great for your reputation, I'd imagine."

Niall hesitated, then slowly released Ysolde's wrist.

The moment he let go, I sliced the glass across Beatrice's cheek.

She screamed.

"Now get your woman and get out."

--

As soon as they were gone, Ysolde dragged me out of the club.

"Chrissy... I'm so sorry. I had no idea they'd be there tonight. I didn't even know Beatrice was back." Ysolde's eyes were full of regret.

I gave a bitter laugh and shook my head."Neither did I. But I heard it loud and clear,they've been screwing around for a while. To them, I was just in the way."

"Those goddamn assholes!" Ysolde hissed through clenched teeth. "You should tell your parents. Let them know Beatrice isn't the perfect angel they think she is. What about Niall's parents? No way they'll tolerate a scandal like this."

I was quiet for a moment. Ysolde had a point-Niall's mother Louisa was the only person who had supported me. But he was her son. She wouldn't choose me over him. Not in the end.

And my parents?I let out a breath."You know better than anyone,they only care about Beatrice. No matter what I do, I'll never replace her."

Ysolde grabbed my shoulders, worry darkening her gaze. "So what now? You're just going to let them humiliate you?"

"Maybe." My voice dropped to a whisper, a weariness weighing it down. "Maybe if I accept it, it'll finally be over."

Suddenly, Ysolde's phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, her brows knitting in frustration. "Chrissy, my agent just called. There's a last-minute ad shoot, I have to go now. Can you get home on your own?"

I nodded, managing a faint smile. "Go. Don't worry about me. I'll call when I get back."

After she left, I hailed a cab. Instinctively, I gave the driver my home address. But barely two minutes into the ride, a wave of suffocating pressure settled over me.

"Actually," I said, "take me to any bar. Preferably one where people go to forget their names, not celebrate them."

The driver barely shrugged.In Highrise City, heartbreak was just another traffic pattern.

Ten minutes later, I was sitting at the bar, working on my third whiskey sour. Maybe fourth. I'd lost count. The bartender kept giving me that "you should probably slow down" look, which I was completely ignoring.

"Another," I demanded, pushing my empty glass forward.

"Ma'am, maybe-" the bartender started.

"Did I stutter?" I cut him off, sliding my credit card across the counter like it was a weapon. "I'm trying to drown my sorrows, not baptize them."

The bartender sighed but obliged.

"That guy's right," a deep voice came from behind me. "Unless you want to wake up in a stranger's bed tonight?"

I turned, ready to snap at whoever dared interrupt-then froze.

It was him. The sexy neighbor.The one who'd helped me after I'd kicked his door by mistake, politely pointing out the right one.

Tonight he was dressed in an expensive suit, his hair slicked back, revealing striking features that would make Michelangelo weep with envy and beg to sculpt him.

"Well, look who it is," I slurred. "The Moon Goddess's envoy. Did she text you my GPS, or do you just have some built-in radar for women making terrible decisions?"

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm like expensive brandy."Let's just call it a finely tuned savior complex."

"You should've been Captain Rescue instead of an Alpha," I sighed dramatically. "Or maybe Don Juan, offering therapy sessions to every heartbroken woman in Highrise City."

"And here I thought you'd be signing up for the therapy sessions yourself," he said, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"You offer your services to every neighbor?"

"Only to the ones who seem hell-bent on self-destruction at any given moment."

"Well, I'm basically a pro at that," I said, lifting my glass. "My life's basically glitter in a carpet-messy, impossible to clean up."

He didn't laugh, rush to comfort me, or even deny what I'd just said. He just watched me quietly, like a spectator observing a disaster movie.

"You're not wrong," he finally said. "Your talent for chaos is impressive. I was right to call you hurricane. You can barely stand, yet here you are, drinking more wine."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he continued, "But somehow you always seem to find someone who refuses to walk away...right when you're about to self-destruct completely."

"Are you flirting with me, Bad Alpha? Or is this some kind of weird rescue mission?" I narrowed my eyes.

His smile was slow, "Would either answer make you drink less?"

"Probably not," I admitted. "But one might make the hangover worth it."

I really looked at him then. He wasn't just good-looking. He was dangerous-looking. The kind that meant trouble and temptation, all wrapped in one.Not the pretty boys with trust funds and spray tans who populated most of Highrise's elite clubs.This was a man who knew exactly what he was and didn't need anyone's permission to be it.

Maybe it was the alcohol or his devastatingly handsome face. Either way, the thought that had been haunting me since the moment I first saw him slipped into my head again.

Before I could think better of it, my hand was on his arm.

"So, Mr. Helpful Neighbor," I said huskily "since you're so dedicated to intervention, why not intervene all the way?"

A flash of surprise, then he got serious. But he didn't pull away. Just held my gaze and said,"Only if you'll own this decision when you're sober."

"Trust me," I said without hesitation. "This is the first clear thought I've had all night."