Jealousy Alpha's Regret novel Chapter 86

Chapter 86

Megan’s POV

One second I was standing behind Iris, and the next I found myself shoved into the middle of a pack of drunk businessmen. Their hands were suddenly everywhere–my waist, my shoulders, my ass–and I

froze in shock.

“What the ” I gasped, trying to regain my balance as one particularly

bold hand squeezed my hip.

The stench of expensive cologne mixed with alcohol hit my nostrils,

making my stomach turn. These were the same men who were

supposed to be pawing at Iris right now, not me. This wasn’t how my

plan was supposed to go. That conniving bitch had somehow

managed to flip the script and push me into the fire instead.

“Hey beautiful,” slurred the balding Mediterranean client, his accent

thicker now that he was drunk. “But you’re not Iris Stone…”

His disappointment was so obvious it made my cheeks burn with

humiliation. Another man’s hand slid down my back, stopping just

above my ass.

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“Where’s the Stone girl? You promised us time with her,” another

complained, his eyes still searching the room for Iris while his hand

stayed firmly on my shoulder.

I wanted to shove them all away, to tell them to keep their disgusting

hands to themselves. But these were major clients. Accounts worth

millions. I couldn’t afford to offend them, not when my position at

Crescent Design was still so precarious with Sebastien away.

“Gentlemen,” I forced a smile, trying to shift away from a particularly

aggressive grab. “I’m sure Iris is just… she’ll be right back.”

I caught a glimpse of her across the room, calmly sitting in her chair,

sipping water and watching me with those calculated eyes. She hadn’t

run away as I’d expected. She’d orchestrated this. I felt a fresh wave of

hatred surge through me.

“That scheming little bitch,” I thought, my smile‘ frozen on my face.

“She saw right through my plan and turned it against me.”

After what felt like an eternity, the men’s interest in me waned.

They’d expected Iris Stone, the wife of Sebastien Grey, not me. Their

hands gradually retreated as they returned to their drinks,

disappointed.

I straightened my blouse and tried to compose myself, glancing

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around to see if anyone else had noticed my humiliation. My eyes

locked with Iris’s again. She wasn’t even trying to hide her

satisfaction, the corner of her mouth lifted in a subtle smirk.

“She planned this,” I realized, my blood boiling. “She knew exactly

what I was setting up and waited for the perfect moment to flip it on

me.”

The Mediterranean client leaned toward me, his whiskey–soaked

breath hot against my ear. “You said Stone was… accommodating.

That she’d help secure the deal. But she hasn’t even looked our way.”

I swallowed hard. “She’s not feeling well today. Next time, I

promise…”

“Next time?” He scoffed, exchanging glances with his associates.

Their faces had darkened, clearly unimpressed with how the

afternoon had turned out.

My plan was falling apart. These men had expected an easy mark in

Iris, someone they could corner and intimidate. Instead, they got

professional, composed Iris who kept her distance and me stumbling

through excuses.

As the lunch dragged on, the clients grew increasingly drunk and

disgruntled. I watched helplessly as Iris maintained her composure,

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not a hair out of place, while I was left to manage their

disappointment.

“Iris,” I called out sweetly, venom dripping from every syllable, “why don’t you come sit closer? Mr. Adessi wants to discuss some specific

design elements with you.”

“I can hear perfectly fine from here, thank you,” she replied coolly.

“My hearing is quite… sharp.”

The slight emphasis on “sharp” wasn’t lost on me–a reminder of her werewolf senses. I clenched my jaw, trying not to show how much she

was getting under my skin.

Finally, the lunch ended. As we were preparing to leave, one of the drunker clients staggered toward me, his eyes unfocused.

“You,” he slurred, mistaking me for Iris in his drunken state. “Pretty

Stone girl.”

He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a key card, shoving it into my hand. “Tonight. Room 712. The deal depends on it.” His breath was so foul I had to fight not to gag. “I’m not very satisfied with today, you’ll need to make it up to me.”

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