Faking It with the Billionaire Alpha

Freya's POV

Twenty minutes later, I was pounding on Darren's door like my life depended on it. Because, well. It kind of did.

Darren opened the door on the third knock, his expression shifting from annoyed to horrified in about two seconds flat.

"Sweetheart, what happened? Why do you look like you just attended your own funeral?"

I pushed past him into his apartment, sequined clutch still clutched in my white-knuckled grip.

"Worse. My marriage just ended in front of two hundred people."

Darren's eyes went wide. He was my oldest friend in Pack territory, a gorgeous gay man who'd moved here three years ago and immediately adopted me as his spirit animal. He also happened to know every gossip, every secret, and every eligible bachelor within a fifty-mile radius.

"Sit. Drink. Talk."

He shoved a glass of rosé into my hand before I could protest. I downed it in one go.

"Caleb found his fated mate tonight."

Darren's jaw dropped. "No."

"Oh yes." I set the empty glass on his coffee table. "At our anniversary party. In front of everyone. He had her pressed against the wall like a starving wolf."

"That absolute piece of shit."

"The fucking bastard," I agreed. "But here's the thing. I told everyone I found mine too."

Darren blinked. Then blinked again.

"You what?"

"I panicked! Everyone was staring at me like I was some pathetic discarded wife, and I just—I couldn't let him win, Darren. I couldn't let them pity me."

A slow grin spread across his face.

"So you bluffed. Oh, you beautiful, chaotic disaster."

"Now I have until tomorrow at noon to produce a fated mate who's hotter than Caleb, more powerful than Caleb, and willing to pretend he's madly in love with me."

Darren grabbed my hands, eyes sparkling with the kind of manic energy that either meant disaster or brilliance.

"Lucky for you, I know exactly where to find one."

The place was called The Velvet Room, and it screamed money.

Literally. The black marble floors, the gold-accented bar, the crystal chandeliers—everything about its creamed wealth and seduction. A private members-only club where the city's most beautiful men entertained the city's most powerful women.

"I come here sometimes for the fashion shows," Darren whispered as we entered. "The owner owes me a favor. She's agreed to let you browse."

"Browse?"

"Like a candy shop, darling. Pick whoever you want."

My heels clicked against the polished floor as we moved deeper into the lounge. Everywhere I looked, impossibly gorgeous men circulated through the space. Muscles. Chiseled jaw lines. Designer suits draped over sculpted bodies.

If there were an Olympic committee for hot men, I'd have been the judge.

But none of them were right. Too pretty. Too polished. Too obviously hired.

I needed someone who could pass as a fated mate. Someone with presence. Someone who could make Caleb look like a discount version of a man.

Darren nudged my arm.

"I need the restroom. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."

"Me? Never."

He disappeared down a hallway, leaving me alone near the bar.

I turned, scanning the room again.

And then I saw him.

Holy. Shit.

He stood near the back, leaning against a column like he owned the entire building. Easily six-foot-four. Broad shoulders wrapped in a charcoal suit that screamed power. Dark hair, slightly tousled. A jaw sharp enough to cut glass.

But his eyes.

Even from this distance, I could see them. Piercing gray-blue. The kind that froze you in place.

The man was sin walking on two legs.

My heart did something stupid. My body did something stupider.

Lust. Pure, unadulterated lust.

I didn't think. I just moved.

My emerald gown swished against my legs as I crossed the room. Every step felt like walking toward a cliff edge. Dangerous. Exhilarating.

He watched me approach. Those impossible eyes tracked my movement.

When I stopped in front of him, I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze.

"Hi."

One word. Smooth as velvet.

I swallowed hard.

"I have a business proposition for you."

His brow lifted slightly. Amused. Curious.

"I'm listening."

His voice was absurd. Deep and rich, like dark chocolate for the ears.

I reached into my clutch and pulled out my business card. My fingers trembled slightly as I held it out.

"Tomorrow. The Pack House. Noon. I need you to pretend to be my fated mate at a rejection ceremony."

He took the card. Slowly. Deliberately.

His fingers brushed mine. Electricity shot up my arm.

What the fuck was that?

"I'll pay you ten thousand for the day," I continued, my voice steadier than I felt. "All you have to do is look at me like you can't live without me. Maybe hold my hand. Smile at the right moments."

He studied the card, then studied me.

"That's quite an offer."

"I'm quite desperate."

At that, his lips curved. A hint of a smile. Wicked and knowing.

Dangerous. So fucking dangerous.

"I finish my shift at midnight."

"Perfect. Tomorrow then?"

He tucked the card into his jacket pocket, those gray-blue eyes never leaving mine.

"Tomorrow."

He pushed off the column and walked past me. His shoulder brushed mine. That same electric current pulsed where our bodies touched.

I watched him go. My heart pounded against my ribs like it was trying to escape.

Darren appeared beside me, zipping his pants.

"Did you find someone?"

I was still staring at the doorway where the stranger had disappeared.

"Oh, I found someone alright."

"Someone good?"

I turned to my friend, a smile spreading across my face.

"Someone perfect. Tomorrow, Caleb is going to watch me walk away with the most gorgeous man he's ever seen. And he's going to choke on his own regret."

Darren threw his arm around my shoulders.

"That's my girl. Now let's get you home. You have a fake relationship to prepare for."

I let him guide me toward the exit, but my mind was still back there.

Still on those piercing gray-blue eyes.

Still on the stranger who'd agreed to my insane plan.

Something about him felt...

No.

I shook the thought away.

He was hired help. A beautiful prop to make my ex-husband jealous.

Nothing more.

Tomorrow, I'd walk into that Pack House with my head high and my fake mate on my arm.

And Caleb would finally understand what he'd lost.