ALARIC POV
She turned, leading me through the corridor, and I followed without a word. But I wasn't blind. I noticed the way her posture shifted subtly, the deliberate sway of her hips, the way she cast a glance back at me just long enough for her lashes to flutter as if gauging my reaction.
I had none.
She stopped at a set of frosted glass doors, placing a manicured hand against the panel to push them open. Inside, the exclusive waiting hall was exactly what I expected—lavish yet minimalistic. Plush seating, sleek black furniture, and soft golden lighting cast everything in a warm, indulgent glow.
"This room is reserved for our VIP guests," she informed me, stepping aside as I walked in. "Feel free to make yourself comfortable, Alpha. Would you like a drink? Perhaps a glass of Carla Verloza's signature red?"
I finally looked at her. Just long enough to make her stiffen slightly under my gaze.
"That'll do," I said.
