Marked By the Pureblood Alpha (Deanna and Luis) novel Chapter 410

Erik's POV:

When the call came in, I was driving.

Violet had night shoots tonight, and I was on my way to give her a surprise.

The trunk was packed with food and a bouquet of Moonshadow roses, still beaded with dew.

"Mr. Eaton, what's up?" I answered, sounding relaxed.

"Oh, right. The corporate summit went great today. Mooncrown Corporation's stock is soaring. Nicely done."

There was a brief silence on the other end before he changed the subject, irritation obvious in his voice.

After hearing him out, I turned the wheel and took a corner, careless as ever.

"Women are just petty by nature. Between mates, though, nothing a night in bed can't fix. Wanna give it a shot?"

He clearly didn't like the suggestion. His reply was clipped and cold. "Give me something practical."

The next second, I heard the sharp thunk of a knife hitting a cutting board through the phone, and my left eye twitched.

Even I, a surgeon who handled scalpels daily, didn't think I'd ever use that much force.

I swallowed. "What are you doing?"

"Cooking." He sounded stiff.

Cooking? Fine.

I relaxed and started racking my brain for something that qualified as "practical."

After the corporate summit, the next couple of days were when Luis was preparing for the proposal ceremony.

If Deanna still had a knot in her heart ... she wouldn't reject him, right?

Bah, nonsense. What was I thinking?

"How about you tell her you love her?

"Say it every day. Morning, noon, and night—three times a day. She'll definitely be moved. And also—"

The line went dead.

Huh?

Was my advice really that bad?

Back when I was dating, women used to ask me every day if I loved them. They asked so much it drove me nuts.

Wait.

Now that I was with Violet, she'd never once asked me that.

Why hadn't Violet ever asked?

Deanna's POV:

I ate quietly, the flavors blooming on my tongue as my stomach gradually settled. There wasn't much conversation between us—just the soft clink of cutlery and the deepening night outside the window.

After dinner, I stood up to shower.

I paused between the main bedroom and the guest room, hesitating slightly.

Then, I asked softly, "Can I sleep alone tonight?"

His hand paused mid-wipe, and he looked up at me. That look was deep, like he wanted to see straight through me.

Under that scrutiny, I felt a little uneasy.

It wasn't that I didn't trust him, and it wasn't punishment. I just ... needed some space to process these tangled emotions.

The air seemed to freeze, broken only by the faint ticking of the wall clock.

"Okay." He finally said, his voice low and steady, betraying no emotion.

I let out a quiet breath of relief.

I gestured toward the next room. "Then, you can take the guest room. Everything's ready in there."

With that, I walked into the bedroom, grabbed my pajamas, and went into the bathroom for a quick shower.

Afterward, drained from the tension of the day, I lay down on the bed. Before I knew it, sleep took me.