Claimed by My Ex's Half-Brother-Chapter 174 What about a wife?

Victoria’s POV

"If you really can never walk again, I’ll arrange for someone to take care of you for life. All expenses on me. How does that sound?" I leaned forward, my golden hair falling over one shoulder as I met Patrick’s gaze.

My wolf Nora stirred restlessly within me. She disapproved of us discussing this, but I managed to keep her quiet.

Patrick’s mouth curved into a smile that never reached his eyes. "What about a wife? Could you find me one of those too?"

"Of course," I nodded, drumming my manicured nails lightly against the chair’s armrest. "A handsome, accomplished man like you—even in a wheelchair, you’d have women lining up for you."

The scent of his emotions shifted, becoming more complex—hope mingled with disappointment in a way that made me want to wrinkle my nose.

"So you think I’m handsome and talented, Victoria?" Patrick leaned forward, his voice dropping an octave. "There’s an old saying about keeping good things in the family. Why don’t we work on this relationship? Or do you not want to be with someone... damaged like me?"

His half-joking tone couldn’t mask the serious question underneath. The wolf in my chest growled low—it knew what he was really asking.

"You know I don’t love you. It wouldn’t be fair to you, having to face someone who doesn’t love you," I replied without hesitation, my tone firm as steel. The rejection felt like building an invisible barrier between us. "You’ll find someone more suitable eventually."

Patrick’s smile froze, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "Victoria, I think we’re well-matched. I’m serious about this. Think it over—I’m not rushing you."

"I don’t need to think about it." My words came out sharper than expected, like the snarl of wolf fangs. "I have to emphasize this again, Patrick. I have no romantic feelings for you. It will never happen—not in this lifetime. You saved me, and I’m grateful. I’ll care for you out of gratitude, but not as a partner or spouse. Understood?"

I took a deep breath, the air thick with his disappointment. "And please don’t bring this up again. It makes things awkward. We might not even be able to stay friends."

Seeing that Patrick seemed to handle my rejection well—at least on the surface—I decided it was time to leave. But instead of going upstairs to my apartment, I drove across town to my grandfather’s estate.

Upstairs was Damian’s territory, downstairs was Patrick’s domain. Right now, I couldn’t face either of them. Grandfather’s house was my sanctuary.

Even surrounded by the comforting scents of my pack’s ancestral home, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. All night I wrestled with thoughts as chaotic as leaves in a storm. Something felt wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

Over the next few days, I buried myself in work at Lancaster Industries. Work was the perfect anesthetic—it numbed everything. Endless meetings, emails, and negotiations left no time to dwell on personal troubles.

A week passed this way. One evening, when I finally returned home, the sight before me made my heart skip a beat. A sleek black Aston Martin sat in my driveway, a tall figure leaning against it, stirring something deep within me.

Damian Sterling stood there, his long legs crossed at the ankles. The dim porch light cast dramatic shadows across his angular face, making him look like he’d stepped out of a Hollywood film. A cigarette slipped from his fingers, wisps of smoke drifting into the night sky.

When he heard my car approach, he turned, his gaze meeting mine through the windshield. My wolf nature instantly went on high alert. No escape—he’d seen me.

I steeled myself as the driver stopped at the entrance. Stepping out, I was hit by that familiar scent of cedar and midnight roses.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, slinging my designer bag over my shoulder. "Did you drive all the way to my grandfather’s place just to smoke?"

"I was waiting for you." His deep voice resonated in the night air.

"Why wait for me?" I narrowed my eyes, trying not to notice how moonlight caressed his sharp jawline.

"I haven’t seen you in a week. I missed you." Damian straightened, dropping all pretense. "I heard you were staying with your grandfather, so I thought I’d take a chance."

From the intensity in his burning gaze, I could tell he was serious. That vulnerable quality about him made my chest tighten.

"You missed me?" I scoffed, deliberately using a sharp tone. "Do all men spout this garbage? Ethan used to say the same thing all the time." I was no longer that naive little omega—at least, not in everyone’s eyes.

"I’m not him," Damian said quietly. The smoky scent around him intensified with sincerity. "But I know you might not believe that. In your eyes, all men might be the same—worthless. I won’t make excuses for myself. I really just came to see you, nothing more."

His gaze never left mine, a genuine smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Tonight he seemed different somehow—displaying a gentleness I rarely saw in the Blood Moon Pack leader.

"What are you smiling about?" I couldn’t help asking, my tone softer than intended.

"So Miss Lancaster is now policing my expressions too?" His voice blended with the evening breeze, carrying a magnetism that made the wolf within me whimper softly. "Is smiling also a crime?"

"Nobody’s policing you," I retorted. "Your smile is so ugly it hurts my eyes."

"Is that so?" Damian stepped closer, his smile brightening. "Then I should let you see more of it. That way, this face that supposedly pollutes your vision will be burned into your memory. You might even dream about me tonight."

He leaned in brazenly, his face nearly touching mine. That smile completely transformed his usually stern features. Without smiling, he was dangerously handsome; with it, he was like Arctic glaciers melting in sunlight—irresistibly warm and utterly captivating.

"Just keep smiling like that, or I’ll take your picture," I threatened, trying to ignore my accelerating heartbeat.

"What for? To keep for yourself?" he asked teasingly.

"In your dreams," I snorted. "I’d hang it at the company entrance to ward off evil spirits. Your face could scare away ghosts—more effective than any security system."

"Really?" He chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the night air. "How generous of me to let you photograph me. I noticed you weren’t nearly as cooperative when I was taking pictures of you."

Remembering his candid photos of me—especially that one of me kissing him—made my skin burn. Nora writhed excitedly within me, recalling those images.

"That was completely different," I protested. "If you’re so generous, go stand at the street corner and let strangers photograph you."

"No. That privilege belongs only to you." His voice dropped to a husky whisper.

"Stop smiling and tell me what you really want," I changed the subject, trying to ignore the flutter in my chest. "How long have you been waiting here? Weren’t you worried I might have already gone inside, leaving you to wait all night?"

I knew he wouldn’t dare go in—my grandfather’s hatred for Damian was well-known. William Lancaster, leader of the Crescent Dawn Pack, had made it clear that Damian Sterling was not welcome.

"Seems the heavens are on my side tonight," he said, laugh lines crinkling at his eyes. "Fate arranged our meeting."

I couldn’t help but laugh. "In just a few days, Mr. Sterling’s silver tongue has become even more impressive."

"Want to test how skillful my tongue really is?" Damian’s voice dropped an octave, sending electricity racing down my spine.

"How would I test that?" The words slipped out before I could think them through.

Damian stepped forward, clearly intending to demonstrate his meaning with action. He leaned down to kiss me, but I quickly raised my hand, pressing my palm against his lips.

"You’re really going to do this at my grandfather’s front door?" I challenged. "Aren’t you afraid he’ll come out and chase you off his territory?"

"This isn’t exactly inappropriate," Damian murmured against my palm, his breath warming my skin.

"Then what would you call it?"

"I’d call it exercising my future rights." Confidence gleamed in his eyes. "Because I know you’ll eventually agree."

"Agree to what?"

"To become my mate."

I stared at him, momentarily speechless.

"Where does this confidence come from?" I finally asked. "Is this a universal male affliction—this ridiculous self-assurance?"

A smile tugged at Damian’s lips, making my wolf instinctively howl in approval. "I can’t speak for other men, but my confidence comes from knowing we truly love each other."