Alpha's Regret: Losing His True Mate-Chapter 205

Those were minor details. What really mattered was Cole’s technology. That was what had real value.

Logan understood exactly what Sophia meant. Sure, Elodie had done well during her speech. But when it came to the technical stuff? Both he and Sophia figured Johnny had fed her all the answers beforehand.

There was no way Elodie actually knew that much on her own.

Tracy chimed in. "But she really is relying on Johnny, isn’t she?"

No matter how you looked at it, Elodie had been front and center today. And whether they liked it or not, that helped the Miller family. In Tracy’s eyes, that showed Elodie had at least some ability.

But Sophia wasn’t concerned with any of that. What bothered her was something else entirely.

She’d noticed Harry in the audience during the press conference. Watching Elodie. His gaze had been locked on her, focused, and intent.

He’d never looked at Sophia that way. She couldn’t help but think if she’d been the one on stage, Harry’s eyes would’ve been on her instead.

---

By the time Elodie and Johnny left the hotel, it was nearly ten at night. After a full day of nonstop work, Elodie’s head was pounding.

She got in her car and drove on autopilot, only realizing when she pulled into the garage that she’d gone to her own apartment instead of back to the Miller house.

It was too late to turn around now. She wasn’t going back tonight.

She got out, pulled out her phone, and scrolled through her messages. The Miller family had called. So had Liora.

There was also a text from Liora, sent around 8 p.m., asking when she’d be home.

Elodie glanced at it, then put her phone away. She went upstairs, took a quick shower, and collapsed into bed.

---

The next morning, she’d barely opened her eyes when her phone rang.

It was Liora.

Elodie didn’t want to answer. But the second her phone went quiet, the landline at the Miller house started ringing.

She sighed and picked up. "Grandma."

"Elodie, you didn’t come home last night?"

"Yeah. I was too busy. Didn’t make it back."

Hearing that she’d been working, Old Madam Miller softened. She didn’t push. Just handed the phone to Liora.

"Mom!" Liora’s voice was bright, and cheerful.

"Hey."

Liora sounded surprised that Elodie didn’t come back to the Miller house every night. When she’d called last night and gotten no answer, and then woke up this morning and didn’t see her, she’d felt a little let down.

"Mom, when are you coming back?"

"Tonight, probably."

"Oh..." Liora’s voice dipped.

Elodie remembered something. "Call your dad and have him send a driver to take you to school, okay? I’m too busy today."

"Okay." Then, after a pause, "By the way, Mom, where are you living now? Can I come see you after school?"

"No," Elodie said quickly. "I’ll still be at work when school gets out. Just stay at your great-grandma’s. If you get bored, call your dad and have him take you out to eat."

"Okay."

"I have to get to work now. I’m hanging up."

"Bye, Mom."

Elodie ended the call.

After breakfast, she went straight to the office.

Even though she’d been swamped yesterday, today was no different. But she left earlier than usual in the afternoon so she could have dinner with Grandma.

When she got to the Miller house, she noticed right away that Grandma seemed off. Upset about something.

Elodie glanced around the living room. There was no sign of Liora.

She guessed Liora had gone out to eat with Dante again.

Elodie wasn’t particularly bothered. But Grandma clearly was. She thought Liora was getting way too attached to Dante.

"Elodie," Grandma said seriously, "once you finish up your current work, you need to spend more time with Liora. Otherwise..."

Elodie nodded vaguely. "I know. I will. Let’s eat first."

Grandma didn’t say anything else.

After dinner, Elodie chatted with her for a bit, then went upstairs to rest.

Around nine, she came back downstairs. That’s when the security booth called.

There was a visitor.

Elodie glanced at the monitor and saw Dante’s car.

She frowned. Before she could process it, her phone rang. And it was from Liora.

Grandma hadn’t gone to bed yet. She came out of her room, saw what was happening, and immediately told security to let the car through.

Elodie answered the phone, talked to Liora briefly, then hung up.

A moment later, Dante’s car pulled up outside.

Liora bolted out, grinning. "Mom! I’m back!"

Elodie smiled faintly. Grandma looked pleased.

The car door was still open. Dante was still inside. Then he stepped out, holding Liora’s forgotten backpack in one hand and a cake box in the other.

He walked toward them.

Elodie didn’t say anything.

Liora suddenly remembered she’d left her stuff and turned around, beaming. "Thanks, Dad!"

"Mm." Dante glanced at Elodie, then at Old Madam Miller. "Old Madam."

Grandma gave him the coldest nod imaginable.

Elodie had no choice but to take the cake box from him.

Liora was about to say how good the cake was, but Elodie cut her off.

"Liora, say goodbye to your dad."

Liora blinked, confused. "Dad’s leaving?"

Dante smiled slightly. "Yeah."

Liora had no choice. "Bye, Dad."

"Bye." Dante gave Old Madam Miller a brief nod, then turned and walked back to his car.

Elodie took the cake and Liora’s hand and headed inside without a second glance. Without bothering to give him a polite wave. No seeing him off.

Dante’s car pulled away moments later.

The second they were inside, Liora started bouncing on her toes. "Mom! Great-grandma! This is a little cake Dad and I got for you! It’s strawberry, the kind you like, Mom! You have to try it, okay?"

Liora smelled faintly of perfume. Floral perfume.

Sienna’s, probably. Elodie’s nose almost wrinkled in disgust.

Elodie set the cake down on the counter. "I just ate dinner, sweetheart. I’m not hungry. We’ll save it for later."

Old Madam Miller nodded in agreement.

Liora’s face fell a little. "Oh... okay."

After putting the cake in the fridge, Liora ran upstairs to take a shower. She’d just finished when her phone rang.

Dante was calling.

She picked up. "Dad?"

"I just heard your grandfather’s coming back tomorrow afternoon," Dante said. "After school, I’ll have someone pick you up so you can come home for dinner. Let your mom know."

Dante’s father, Felix Wilson, worked in government. High up. He was always busy, barely home more than a handful of days each year. The day Nonna had fallen, Felix had rushed back at dawn only to leave again before sunrise.

Now that Nonna was still in the hospital recovering, Felix had taken a few days off in advance so he could come back and spend New Year’s with her.

Liora nodded even though he couldn’t see her. "Okay. Got it."

As she hung up, something clicked.

Her dad had said "pick you up." Not "pick *you all* up."

Just her. Not Elodie.

She turned to her mom, confused. "Mom, aren’t you coming to dinner with us?"

In the past, whenever Grandpa Felix came home whether Dante was there or not, Nonna always invited both Elodie and Liora to the old house for a family meal.

It happened often enough that even though Liora was young, she’d just assumed: when Grandpa comes back, we all go to the old house.

Elodie opened her mouth to answer, but Dante cut in through the speaker.

"Your mom has something to do tomorrow."

"Oh... okay," Liora said quietly.

Liora had put the phone on speaker, so Elodie had heard the whole thing.

She hadn’t known Felix was coming back. Not until just now.

But it made sense. She and Dante were in the middle of divorcing. Given the circumstances, there was no reason for her to visit the Wilson family anymore. No reason to meet Dante’s relatives or play the role of dutiful daughter-in-law.

Clearly, Dante felt the same way. He hadn’t even waited for her to respond, he just made up an excuse on her behalf so she wouldn’t have to come.

He didn’t say anything else. Just ended the call.

A cold glint flashed through his eyes. It wasn’t angry, exactly. It was territorial. He reached out and grabbed my waist, his grip firm but not painful, and pulled me gently to his side. It was a movement that said *mine* without him having to speak.

He turned to lead me up the stairs, but the pilot stepped forward. He was a young guy, maybe thirty, with a nervous smile. He bent down to pick up a small, plush cashmere blanket that had been folded on the floor near the entrance.

"Here, Miss," the pilot said, holding it out to me. "It gets cold in the cabin. You should cover your legs."

I looked at the blanket, then at him. It was a nice gesture. "Thank you," I said, my voice shaking a little. I reached out to take it.

Konstantin moved faster than a snake. He stepped between me and the pilot, blocking my hand. The air temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. He looked at the pilot, then at the blanket, and a low, rumbling growl started in his chest.

"Three feet minimum," Konstantin barked at the pilot. His voice was sharp, like a whip crack. "Don’t overstep."

The pilot blinked, his face turning pale. He dropped the blanket instantly. "S-sorry, Pakhan. I just—"

"Get in the cockpit," Konstantin snapped. He didn’t wait for an apology. He ignored the pilot completely and turned back to me. He guided me inside the plane, his hand on the small of my back, steering me like I was a valuable piece of cargo.

He made sure I was seated in the massive leather chair. He checked the belt, pulling it tight across my lap himself. Then he took the seat right beside me. Not across the aisle. *Beside* me. His thigh was touching mine. The heat radiating off him was suffocating.

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide the fact that my hands were trembling. I unbuckled the belt immediately and moved to the seat across the aisle, putting an empty seat between us. I buckled it again, glaring at him.

Konstantin watched me. He didn’t look mad. A slight curl of his lips played at the corner of his mouth, like he was watching a kitten try to roar.

Then the engines started.

The roar was deafening. The vibration rattled my teeth. My stomach dropped instantly, that sickening feeling of weightlessness, like falling down an elevator shaft. I gasped, my hands flying to the armrests. I gripped the leather so hard my knuckles turned white. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The walls were closing in.

Konstantin’s deep voice cut through the noise of the engines. He didn’t shout, but I heard him perfectly.

"You haven’t flown before."

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I was too busy trying to keep my heart from exploding out of my chest. The plane began to taxi, bumping over the tarmac. Every bump felt like a crash.

I clamped my eyes shut. *Please don’t let me die. Please don’t let the baby die.*

Slowly, I felt a heavy warmth cover my hand on the armrest. His hand. He had reached across the gap and covered my hand completely. His palm was rough, his fingers long and strong.

My breath caught in my throat. I tried to pull away, but my muscles wouldn’t work.

"Breathe, Alessia," he said. His voice was right next to my ear, low and steady.

I forced air into my lungs. It came out shaky. "I’m fine," I lied, my voice thin and reedy.

"You’re terrified," he countered. He wasn’t mocking me. He sounded... certain.

I opened my mouth to snap at him, to tell him to go to hell, but the plane lifted. The nose went up, and we were in the air. The G-force pressed me back into the seat. I gasped, a small, broken sound of panic.

His thumb moved. He rubbed it gently over my knuckles, back and forth. A slow, rhythmic motion. It was grounding. It cut through the panic just enough for me to think.

"I got you," he said.

The words hit me harder than the takeoff.

*I got you.*

My ears rang. The roar of the engines faded into the background. Those words. They were oddly familiar. A memory flashed in my brain—darkness, music, the smell of expensive cologne. The stranger. The one night stand. In the pitch black of the club, he had whispered that against my skin when I stumbled. *I got you.*

I felt my breathing slow down, against my will. A strange, warm feeling spread through my chest. It wasn’t fear. It was safety. And that terrified me more than the crash. I stiffened, my back going rigid against the seat.

My eyes snapped open. I looked down at our hands. His large, tattooed hand covering mine. Then I looked up at his face.

He was watching me. Those grey eyes were intense, focused entirely on my reaction. I hated to admit it, even to myself, but his eyes were so damn beautiful. Like storm clouds before a thunderstrike.

My lips moved before I could stop them. The question tumbled out, a whisper lost in the hum of the jet.

"What... did you just say?"