Chapter 235
Chapter 235
Third Person’s POV
Trista leaned in and hissed under her breath, “Pour the damn drink p>
Finished
Her heart was thumping. She had been dying for a chance to get Samantha near Cassian’s glass, and this was finally the perfect opening.
Seeing Samantha fumbling with the bottle like a klutz, Trista quickly grabbed a wedge of watermelon with her fork and held it up to Cassian’s face.
She was trying to pull a classic “distraction play“-keeping his hyper–aware Alpha senses locked on her so Samantha could finally spike his drink.
As Trista moved closer, Cassian felt his jagged, icy pheromones miraculously smooth out.
A wave of smug satisfaction washed over him. “Typical,” he thought. “She says she wants a divorce, but she’s more territorial than anyone p>
He was convinced Trista had only been excited earlier because she was terrified he’d roll a 7 or an 8 and end up getting physical with Samantha.
Now that he had to drink, she was suddenly all over him, trying to win back his attention before any other woman could move in.
Cassian played hard to get, keeping his jaw set and refusing to reach for the fruit.
Trista, desperate to cover for Samantha, gritted her teeth and manually guided the watermelon to his lips.
Then, a sound of shattering glass cut through the room.
Trista’s heart sank into her stomach.
Samantha, shaking like a leaf, had let her fingers slip. She’d managed to knock a heavy bourbon glass right off the coffee table.
In a room full of silent, high–strung werewolves, the sound was like a gunshot. Every pair of eyes in the suite locked onto Samantha like a target.
Trista and Samantha traded a look of pure horror.
Trista’s jaw twitched with rage. Disappointed and done with the act, she tossed the watermelon back into the ice bucket like it was trash.
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* Finished
Cassian, who had just been about to take the bite, was left hanging. He sat there, stone–faced, his dark wolfish eyes staring at the discarded fruit with a look that was borderline terrifying.
“I’m so sorry… it was an accident,” Samantha stammered, looking like she was about to drop to her knees and beg.
Fred, the pro host, signaled a server to clean up the mess.
To keep the vibe from flatlining, he pushed the dice toward Wynn. “Alright, your turn p>
Wynn shot Samantha a look of pure daggers. She grabbed the cup, gave it a violent shake, and rolled an S.
Wynn pointed straight at Fred. “Fred. You. Over here. Now p>
Everyone started howling, sensing blood in the water.
Fred started backing into the cushions, waving his hands frantically. “Can I swap? Anyone else? I’m fragile, Wynn p>
He knew the deal. He was the one who brought Samantha in, and Wynn was a ticking time bomb of resentment. Getting “touched” by her right now was going to involve losing a layer of skin.
Seeing this “big bad Alpha” acting like a scared turtle only made Wynn’s temper explode.
She lunged across the gap and, before anyone could blink, delivered a thunderous SLAP right to Fred’s backside.
The sound echoed. Fred practically hit the ceiling.
“What are you dodging for?” Wynn snapped, still fuming. “It’s just a touch. It’s not like it’s gonna kill you p>
Fred, rubbing his burning rear, had to play it off with a humble grin as he helped her back to her seat. “Does your hand hurt? You want me to blow on it?” his voice dripping with forced submission.
Isaiah nudged Trista with his elbow. “I’m telling you, Wynn is Fred’s absolute kryptonite p>
Trista stared at them, her eyes hollow. “It’s just in Fred’s DNA to spoil her. He’s been her punching bag since they were kids p>
She wasn’t sure if Wynn was, but it was a fact that Fred had been used as Wynn’s punching bag since they were kids.
She turned her gaze away from the comedy and back to the tragedy: Samantha and Cassian.
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Finished
Cassian had reverted to his brooding, dark self, silently fiddling with a fresh glass. Nobody. could tell what was going on behind those eyes.
Samantha, paralyzed by her screw–up, sat there like a mannequin, barely even breathing.
Trista checked her phone. Time was running out. She shot Samantha a text and stood up. “I’m gonna go touch up my makeup p>
After Trista left, Samantha’s hand holding the phone was trembling. She was completely ill at
ease.
A few minutes later, she whispered to Cassian, “Trista’s been gone for quite a while. I’m a little worried. I’ll go check on her p>
Cassian responded coldly.
A few minutes later, in an unlit, empty VIP suite at the end of the hall, Trista snatched Samantha by the arm. “If you don’t stop stalling, the party’s gonna be over!” she hissed. “Do you want Algernon in the pack records or not p>
Samantha looked like a ghost. “There are too many werewolves in there! And Cassian’s nose is too sharp–he’ll catch the scent and tear me apart p>
Trista paced the small room, vibrating with frustration.
Cassian was a high–tier Alpha; his alcohol tolerance was freakish. He wouldn’t get drunk naturally.
The biggest problem was his germaphobia–if a glass stayed out of his sight for more than a second, he wouldn’t touch it.
And unless he was heading out for a cigar, he stayed pinned to his “territory” like a statue.
Tonight, he was in a foul mood, and he hadn’t moved an inch.
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