Alpha's Private Plaything (Elsa and Drake Stone) novel Chapter 122

Chapter 122

Elsa

Taking a deep breath, I straightened my shoulders and headed toward

Drake’s office. I needed time away from him, from this building, from

the suffocating presence of his control. Just a few days to get my head

straight and maybe look for other options.

My knuckles rapped lightly on his door.

“Enter.” His voice was cold, impersonal.

I stepped inside, maintaining a professional distance from his desk.

Drake didn’t look up from his computer, the morning sunlight casting

harsh shadows across his angular face. I waited, knowing he was

making me stand there deliberately.

“What is it?” he finally asked, still not looking at me.

“I’d like to request a few days off, Mr. Stone,” I said, keeping my voice

steady. “I’ve been working without a break for months, and the stress

is-”

“No.”

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One word. Not even the courtesy of a full sentence. I clenched my jaw

hard I thought my teeth might crack.

Drake reached into his drawer and pulled out an envelope, sliding it

across his desk toward me. “Twin Moon Resort business gathering.

Day after tomorrow. You’ll be accompanying me.”

I didn’t reach for the envelope. The thought of spending more time

with him, away from the office, made bile rise in my throat.

“Is this a work requirement or punishment?” I met his gaze directly, a

small rebellion.

A cold smile spread across his face. “Both. Take the invitation and

pack a bag. Our flight leaves at three tomorrow.”

I picked up the envelope, feeling the weight of his control pressing

down on me. “Yes, sir.”

As I turned to leave, his voice stopped me. “And Elsa?”

I paused without turning around, my shoulders tensing. “Yes, Mr.

Stone?”

“Don’t try to run again. You know how that will end.”

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I clutched the envelope tighter, my nails nearly puncturing the thick

paper. I hate you. I fucking hate you and everything you represent.

I walked out without another word, my legs trembling with

suppressed rage.

The next day, I sat in the plush leather seat of Drake’s private jet,

watching clouds drift by the window. I’d worn a conservative gray

pantsuit with my hair pulled back in a tight bun–the very picture of

professional detachment.

The flight attendant–a blonde wolf with a form–fitting uniform-

approached Drake for the third time in thirty minutes, refilling his

glass. “Can I get you anything else, Mr. Stone?” she asked, her voice dripping with invitation, fingers “accidentally” brushing his when she

handed him the glass.

To my surprise, Drake set the glass aside with a dismissive gesture.

“No. And my wife doesn’t appreciate others touching me.”

The flight attendant’s smile froze, her eyes darting to me in shock

before she hurriedly apologized and retreated.

“Wife?” I hissed once she was out of earshot, my heart hammering

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with shock and outrage. “What the actual fuck, Drake?”

Drake turned to me, his eyes dangerously bright. “At the resort, you’ll

appear as my mate.”

“Why? That wasn’t our arrangement.” For ten years, we’d maintained

the boss–assistant facade in public, never crossing that line. He’s

losing his goddamn mind.

“Because Alexander is bringing his new companion,” Drake’s voice

held a tension I’d rarely heard. “I will not allow the Moon Shadow

Pack to gain any advantage.”

I understood then–this was about pack politics and saving face.

Drake wouldn’t let himself appear inferior to Alexander, even if it

meant using me as a prop.

I’m nothing but a fucking chess piece to him. A pawn to be moved

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