Alpha Amanda's Love Adventure (By Aurora Grey) novel Chapter 23

Chapter 23 I Want Cake!

Amanda’s POV:

Samson whispered near my car, short and steady, “Fine. You set it up.”

I stole a look at Derrick.

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He and Samson were brothers, but there was always this tension between them, like an invisible line of command and distance-probably the kind of control you get after years of handling clan affairs.

Derrick must’ve felt my eyes because he turned and smiled at me, his voice warm. “Dinner later? Amanda, are you feeling okay to come with us?”

“Of course!” The words flew out before I even processed them.

So we all went out to eat together, and the table quickly came alive. Aunt Susan and Hugh were deep in conversation, while Josh and Alan had let go of their earlier tension.

But the longer I sat there, the weirder it felt. This wasn’t just a welcome dinner. It was Aunt Susan running a full “find Amanda a husband” show.

One minute, she praised Samson for being steady, and the next, she was calling Derrick thoughtful, as if she was trying to figure out my future right there.

Panicked, I shouted through our mind link, “Aunt Susan! Stop matchmaking me! My destined mate is Samson!”

Aunt Susan raised a brow at me, lips curling into a knowing smile. She didn’t argue, but she deliberately speared a sausage, dropped it on Samson’s plate, and winked at me.

Sure enough, a moment later, she said, “Samson, Amanda’s hand is still hurt. The ketchup over there is too far for her. Could you get it?”

I was busy chewing my own sausage when-bam-a bottle of ketchup appeared in front of me.

Samson had actually gotten up and fetched it.

When he set it down, his fingertips brushed the back of my hand, cool from holding an ice glass. I flinched without thinking.

“Thanks.” I ducked my head and squeezed out the ketchup-but then I realized-he hadn’t handed me ketchup at all. It was mustard. That sharp, nasty yellow tang I hated.

“Alice, he did that on purpose, didn’t he?” I fumed inside.

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“Doesn’t look like it.” Alice whispered, trying not to laugh. “His eyes were darting all over. Pretty sure he was nervous and grabbed the wrong thing.”

I shot Samson a glare, shoved the mustard aside, and cursed him in my head a million different

ways.

Halfway through the meal, I propped my chin on my hand, my mind wandering. I realized only Samson and I had barely talked.

He sat quietly, his profile softened by the warm light.

“Not feeling well?” His voice made me jump.

I didn’t answer before Aunt Susan swooped in. “Amanda’s probably shaken from today and a little worn out. Samson, why don’t you take her home?”

There it was again. I knew it-telling Aunt Susan meant endless setups.

“Alright.” Samson agreed immediately, standing.

“Sorry to trouble you.” I pushed back my chair, cheeks burning.

He’d had some wine earlier, so he called for a driver.

We ended up side by side in the backseat. The silence was heavier than at the dinner table.

I shifted away. Then again. Until I was practically glued to the door.

“You seem scared of me.” His voice cut through, soft confusion in it.

“N-no,” I stammered before forcing a laugh, blurting the first excuse I could. “I just didn’t want you crushing my dress. That’s all. Ha.”

He tilted his head, and to my shock, the corner of his mouth lifted. “Is that so?”

Samson …

smiled?

I froze. In my head, he was always cold and untouchable. But that little smile-soft, melting- was like winter turning into spring, dazzling enough to blind me.

And

yet, a flicker of fear stirred in me. What if he was plotting something?

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