The Alpha Who Broke Me

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I arrive at Moonfang Construction, ready to drown myself in spreadsheets and project reports. The office bustles with Monday morning energy, employees clutching coffee cups and discussing weekend plans in hushed tones.

The familiar hum of productivity usually helps me focus, but today feels different. There's a tension in the air I can't quite place.

I settle at my desk, pulling up Vincent's calendar for the week. Board meetings, site visits, conference calls—his schedule is packed as usual. I'm grateful for the workload; it means less opportunity for uncomfortable encounters after last night's incident.

But thirty minutes into my morning routine, I feel it. That familiar prickle along my spine that means I'm being watched. I glance up from my computer screen to find Vincent standing near the conference room, arms crossed, his dark eyes fixed on me with an intensity that makes my skin burn.

He's wearing a perfectly tailored charcoal suit that emphasizes his broad shoulders, his tie slightly loosened like he's already had a long morning. But it's the way he's looking at me that steals my breath—not the professional distance I've been maintaining last week, but something hungrier. More possessive.

I force myself to look back at my screen, typing random words just to appear busy. But I can feel his gaze like a physical touch, following every movement, every breath. The attention is suffocating and exhilarating in equal measure.

Rolling my eyes, I turn my attention to the stack of permits that need filing, determined to ignore his obvious surveillance. But when I stand to walk to the filing cabinet, he's suddenly there—blocking my path with that infuriating smirk firmly in place.

My breath catches in my throat as his scent—warm spice and cedar—envelops me. The files in my hands feel suddenly heavy, and I grip them tighter to stop my hands from shaking.

"Morning, Ms. Dawson," he says, his voice carrying that husky edge that used to make my knees weak—still does, if I'm being honest with myself. "Sleep well?"

I inhale sharply, biting down the surge of irritation clawing up my throat. The office seems to fall away, narrowing to just the two of us standing too close in this charged bubble. He's testing me, pushing boundaries like he always does. After last night's almost-kiss, he probably thinks he has some kind of advantage, that I'll crumble under his attention. But I'm not the same naive omega I was back then.

"I slept fine, Mr. Lopez," I say coolly, emphasizing his formal title. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

His smirk only deepens, eyes darkening to that dangerous shade that means trouble. "You didn't seem fine last night." His voice drops lower, intimate, meant just for me. "In fact, I think you wanted me to stay. To finish what we started."

Fury boils over, hot and consuming. I step closer, lowering my voice so our conversation doesn't carry to curious coworkers. "You're delusional if you think breaking into my house means anything other than you're a stalker."

"Stalker?" He tilts his head, a strand of dark hair slipping across his forehead. "Is that what you call someone who can’t stay away from what’s his?" His hand snaps around my wrist, yanking me flush against him.

“Vincent!” I whisper-yell, my voice breaking between a whisper and a yell at the indecent closeness.

His tone drops, low and knowing, brushing against my skin like a secret. "I doubt Lewis makes your breath race the way I just did." His thumb drags slow, deliberate circles against the inside of my wrist, right over my hammering pulse.

A shiver rips through me—hot, sharp, and unwanted—and I curse my body for betraying me so easily. The files crinkle in my grip as I wrench a step back, forcing space between us. "That’s called anger, Vincent. You should try recognizing it."

He follows me as I move toward the filing cabinet, his movements smooth and confident like he owns every square inch of this building—which, technically, he does. "You know what I think, Kaia? I think you're trying to convince yourself that Thornfield can give you what I can. But we both know that's impossible."

"Leave me alone, Vincent," I hiss, keenly aware of other employees pretending not to watch our exchange while clearly hanging on every word.

"Or what?" He steps closer, close enough that I can see the gold flecks in his dark eyes. "You'll file a complaint with HR? Report me to myself?"

I stare up at him, my heart pounding so hard it echoes in my ears. His scent fills my senses as I look into his eyes, desperately trying to figure out how to maintain my professional composure when he's systematically destroying it.

"Is everything alright here?"

I turn quickly, grateful for the interruption, but my relief vanishes the instant I see who's standing there.

Lewis.

He's standing in the office entrance wearing a navy suit, holding a small bouquet of wildflowers—the same kind he brought on our first date. His kind face, usually so open and warm, has gone completely still, his gaze moving between Vincent and me with growing understanding.

My stomach drops, a knot of shame and guilt tightening in my chest. This is exactly the kind of situation I never wanted Lewis to witness.

Vincent doesn't step back. If anything, he moves closer, his presence radiating territorial Alpha energy that makes the air thick with tension. "Thornfield," he says coolly. "I wasn't expecting a visit from Ravenclaw Pack today."

Lewis's jaw tightens, but his voice remains steady. "I brought Kaia lunch. Thought she might appreciate a break from..." His eyes flick meaningfully to Vincent. "Work stress."

The word 'work' carries enough emphasis to make it clear he knows exactly what kind of stress Vincent is causing.

Vincent leans in close, his voice a dark whisper that only I can hear. "You can pretend all you want, Kaia. But we both know you belong to me."

I don't miss the way Lewis's hand tightens around the flowers, his shoulders tensing as he catches the intimate tone even if he can't hear the words. The office seems suddenly too quiet, too full of witnesses to my humiliation.

Tears burn the back of my eyes, threatening to spill over. My hands shake as I shove Vincent off me with all the strength I can muster, the weight of Lewis's disappointment sinking into my chest like a stone. This was too much. My throat constricts with unshed tears and words I can't form.

Without another word, I turn and walk quickly toward the elevator, heart slamming against my ribs, leaving both men standing there in my wake.