TRADING MY CHEATING HUSBAND FOR THE LYCAN KING novel Chapter 53

CHAPTER 33: THE PROBLEM OF RAFAEL MONTENEGRO-1

KNOX’S POV

She cries then, quietly, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin in a way that’s clearly practiced but no less real

for it.

I wait while she composes herself, and when she looks up again, she’s smiling with the kind of

determination that tells me this isn’t over.

“Will you at least dance with me at the New Year’s Eve ball?” she asks. “One dance. That’s all. For old

times’ sake.”

I should say no. I can feel the trap closing, the way each small concession leads to a larger one.

But she’s dying, and I’m not quite enough of a monster to refuse a dying woman a single dance.

“One dance,” I say. “In public. With Ember present.”

She nods like she’s won something, and maybe she has.

The photographer she hired, sitting three tables away with a telephoto lens, has been capturing every

moment of this meeting, and I’m only noticing now because I was too focused on managing the

conversation to scan the room properly.

Rayana touching my arm. Both of us leaning close. The intimate angles that will look damning regardless

of what actually happened.

I should have anticipated this. I should have known she’d come prepared.

“I’ll have my assistant send details about the Northern Lights tour,” I say, standing. “Later this week.”

Rayana stands too and hugs me before I can prevent it, her body pressed against mine for several

seconds too long, positioned perfectly for the photographer’s lens.

When she pulls back, her eyes are bright with something that might be triumph or genuine affection. With

Rayana, it’s always impossible to tell.

I leave the café feeling like I’ve just walked through a minefield while blindfolded and somehow managed

not to trigger any explosions.

But the mines are still there. Waiting. And Rayana is more dangerous than Gale because Gale is obviously unhinged.

What most people don’t know is that he’s not just an Alpha. He’s a Lycan like me, from a Spaniard bloodline, one of the rare pure-blooded wolves who can trace their lineage back centuries.

But unlike me, Rafael plays the humble gentleman, performs the civilized facade so convincingly that most supernatural creatures have no idea what actually lurks beneath his tailored suits.

I know. We’ve been rivals for nearly a decade. Territories. Treaties. Political influence.

And occasionally, when he really wants to get under my skin, women.

Not because Rafael actually wants the women. Because Rafael knows exactly how to find pressure points

and apply force.

I have a reputation that serves my purposes. I swing through lovers like a revolving door, take what I want, move on before anyone can develop expectations.

It’s intentional.

After Celeste, I can’t stomach the vulnerability that comes with genuine connection. Better to be the man who fucks and leaves than the man who loves and loses everything.

Rafael is the opposite, or at least he performs the opposite. Gentlemanly Patient.

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