Zander’s POV.
“Asher,” I said sharply, my voice cutting through their conversation like a blade slicing through silence. It wasn’t loud, but it was firm, and it carried enough weight to make them both stop talking immediately.
My tone was cold, controlled, but laced with an anger I wasn’t bothering to hide anymore. I didn’t care how polite I sounded; I wanted him to know I wasn’t happy about what I was seeing.
Both of them turned to look at me at the same time. I saw the flicker of surprise in Aria’s expression, like she hadn’t expected me to show up so suddenly.
But there was something else, too-something that looked a lot like guilt. Good. She *should* feel guilty. She knew exactly what this looked like, and if she didn’t feel even a little bad about it, then we had a bigger problem than I thought.
“Zander,” Asher said, his voice as casual as if we were discussing the weather. That irritating calmness of his made my blood boil even more. “I was just inviting Aria to tonight’s party.” His grin didn’t falter, and his words were smooth, like he thought this whole thing was perfectly normal.
“I heard,” I replied, keeping my voice steady and cool, though my wolf was snarling inside me. My eyes shifted to the garment bag still in his hands, and I tilted my head slightly. “And what’s that?” I asked, my words sharp enough to cut.
“A dress,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He held it up slightly, letting it hang there like some kind of trophy. “I thought it would suit her,” he added, his tone annoyingly nonchalant, like it wasn’t a big deal.
I fought the urge to rip the bag out of his hands and toss it down the hallway. Every part of me wanted to end this ridiculous scene right here and now. But instead, I forced a tight, strained smile onto my face. “How thoughtful of you,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm that I didn’t bother to hide.
Aria’s eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at me, and I could tell she was picking up on the tension that was practically crackling between Asher and me. “It’s just a dress, Zander,” she said, her tone calm but with an edge of annoyance. Her words sounded reasonable, but the way she said them made it clear she wasn’t happy with my reaction.
“Of course it is,” I said evenly, though my wolf was growling loud enough in my chest that I was sure she could sense it. My jaw was tight, my fists clenched, but I kept my voice steady, even as my patience wore thin.
Asher, of course, couldn’t resist smirking, his confidence only adding fuel to the fire. He looked far too pleased with himself, like he was enjoying the tension he’d created. “You’re invited too, of course,” he said, his grin widening. “Wouldn’t want the Alpha to miss out on the fun.” His words were light, but there was a challenge in his tone that I didn’t miss.
I took a step closer, letting my height and presence tower over him. “I wouldn’t miss it,” I said, my voice low and firm. I wanted him to know that whatever game he thought he was playing, I wasn’t going to back down.
Our eyes locked, and the tension between us felt almost unbearable. Neither of us looked away, and Asher didn’t flinch under my glare. His confidence, his refusal to back down, grated on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard.
“Well,” he said finally, after what felt like forever. His tone was light, almost playful, as he handed the garment bag to Aria. “I’ll see you both tonight. Eight o’clock sharp.” He sounded far too smug as he said it, and it took everything in me not to wipe that grin off his face.
With that, he turned and walked away, his steps slow and deliberate, as if he were daring me to stop him. The sound of his footsteps echoed down the hallway, each one making my anger burn hotter.
I waited until he disappeared around the corner before I turned to Aria. She was still holding the garment bag, her expression unreadable as her eyes met mine. I could feel the tension between us growing, sharp and heavy like a storm about to break.
“What the hell was that?” I demanded, my voice low but sharp enough to make her flinch slightly. I stepped closer, my anger barely restrained.
She raised an eyebrow, her defiance flaring to life in an instant. “What was what?” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. She wasn’t backing down, and that only made my frustration grow.
“Don’t play dumb, Aria,” I snapped, my voice harder now. “Why was he here? Why was he giving *you* a dress?” My words came out in a rush, my anger spilling over despite my best efforts to stay calm.
“Because he wanted to,” she said simply, her tone deliberately flippant. She shrugged like it didn’t matter, but the way she avoided my gaze told me otherwise.
My wolf growled, the sound low and dangerous, as my anger simmered just below the surface. “He doesn’t get to give you things,” I said through gritted teeth, my voice rough with barely suppressed rage. “He doesn’t get to-”
“To what?” she interrupted, her voice rising as she cut me off. “Be nice to me? Show me kindness? Because you sure as hell don’t,” she added, her green eyes blazing with anger as she glared at me.
I froze, her words hitting harder than I expected. For a moment, I couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Don’t act like you care, Zander,” she continued, her voice sharp and full of hurt. “You’ve made it perfectly clear that I mean nothing to you. So why does it matter if Asher does something you won’t?” Her words were like a slap to the face, and I struggled to keep my emotions in check.
My jaw tightened, and my fists clenched at my sides. “You’re my wife,” I said through gritted teeth, my voice low and full of warning. “You don’t need his attention. Or his gifts.”
Her lips curved into a bitter smile, the kind that didn’t reach her eyes. “And yet, here we are,” she said, her tone mocking as she held up the garment bag slightly.
For a moment, we just stood there, the air between us crackling with tension. I wanted to say something, to remind her exactly who she belonged to, but the sound of housekeepers moving through the hallway stopped me. Their curious glances made me hold my tongue.
“Fine,” I said finally, my voice cold and sharp. “We’ll go to the party. Together.” My words were more of a command than an offer.
Her eyes widened slightly in surprise, but she quickly masked it with indifference. “Suit yourself,” she said with a shrug, her tone dismissive.
Without another word, I turned and walked into the suite, slamming the door behind me.
The thought of her wearing a dress *he* had chosen, of letting *him* decide how she looked, made my blood boil all over again. But more than that, I hated the way she looked at him-like he was someone she could trust. She was wrong.
He wasn’t someone she could trust.
And tonight, I’d make sure she, and everyone else, remembered exactly who she was married to.