Chapter 100
Sebastien’s POV
I heard Megan’s voice behind me, her explanation about how she was
“just concerned” about my drinking. Something inside me laughed
coldly. Did she really think I was drunk? After all these years, she still
underestimated me.
“You’re concerned?” I turned around, deliberately arranging my face
into the most mocking expression I could manage. “Don’t flatter
yourself. You’re just like every other girl in that bar trying to get my
attention tonight.”
I watched her expression crumble, her eyes growing wet around the
edges. God, I hated that look. The weak, vulnerable wolf act. It made
my stomach turn.
“If you’re going to cry, do it somewhere else,” I said with an irritated
click of my tongue. “It’s annoying.”
Megan’s lower lip trembled, and I felt a flash of disgust. Iris would
never resort to such obvious manipulation. Even when I’d hurt her
deeply, she’d face me with that quiet dignity that drove me crazy –
standing her ground with fire in her eyes rather than fake tears.
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“Just go,” I said, waving her off. “You’re wasting my time.”
She turned and practically ran back toward the bar entrance, heels clicking frantically on the pavement. I loosened my tie, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease slightly. Finally some peace and quiet.
The sensation hit me before the sound – that distinct presence of
another powerful werewolf. The scent was unmistakable, carrying notes of old money and privilege. I turned slowly, already knowing
who I’d find.
Ethan Lowell stood a few feet away, those ridiculous black and gold
glasses perched on his nose. My jaw clenched involuntarily. The heir
to the Lowell empire, with his perfect pedigree and his convenient
interest in my wife.
No, not my wife. Not anymore. But the thought still burned.
I’d read every file Daniel had compiled on him. Thirty–two years old.
Harvard Business School. Took over Polaris Studio at twenty–eight
when his father stepped down. Single. Never formally mated.
Suspiciously present wherever Iris happened to be lately.
“Bravo,” Ethan said, slow–clapping with exaggerated movements.
“That was quite a performance. You really know how to let a girl down
gently.”
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Chapter 100
I felt a cold smile spread across my face. “Better than certain wolves
with… unusual interests.”
I watched his eyes flash with anger, a flash of gold briefly replacing
the brown. Hit a nerve, did I?
“Unusual interests?” he repeated, his voice deceptively soft as he took
a step closer. “Care to elaborate, Grey?”
“Let’s just say there are rumors about which way the Lowell wolves
hunt.” I kept my voice neutral but my meaning clear. “Not that it’s any
of my business who you chase after.”
Ethan moved closer, the casual grace in his steps belying the tension
radiating from him. I could smell his anger now, sharp and metallic.
My muscles tensed automatically, preparing for whatever was
coming.
“You should be careful throwing accusations around,” he said,
reaching forward and grabbing my collar.
I didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. His grip was strong – stronger than
I’d expected – but I cataloged at least three ways I could break it in an
instant. His stance was all wrong, weight too far forward, emotions
making him sloppy.
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“Or what?” I asked calmly, looking directly into his eyes.
The shrill ring of my phone cut through our standoff. I glanced down
at the screen without moving my head.
Iris.
I saw Ethan’s eyes follow mine to the caller ID, a flash of something
smug crossing his features. It took everything in me not to react.
Instead, I deliberately hit the decline button, watching satisfaction
bloom in his expression.
Amateurs are so easy to manipulate.
“Trouble in paradise?” Ethan asked, his grip loosening slightly. “Oh
wait, I forgot – the divorce is official now. How does it feel, Grey,
knowing she’s finally free of you?”
I kept my face carefully blank. “You seem very invested in my
personal life, Lowell. Should I be flattered?”
Before he could respond, my phone rang again. Iris, once more. This
time, I smiled and answered it, maintaining eye contact with Ethan.
“Yes?” I said, my voice deliberately cold.
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“Well, little one,” I whispered, gently touching my stomach, “looks
like our new life starts now.”
My phone rang, startling me. Marcus Foster’s name flashed on the
screen.
“Hello?” I answered, surprised to hear from my design mentor.
“Iris, I was wondering if you could stop by the design academy today,”
Marcus said, his tone friendly but formal. “There’s something I’d like
to discuss with you.”
“Today?” I hesitated, glancing at my watch. “I’ve already taken the
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