Reject My Alpha President (Iris and Arthur) novel Chapter 125

Chapter 125

Iris

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Seeing them together breaks my heart all over again.

Arthur stands tall next to Selina, his hand resting on the small of her back as they chat with a small crowd of admirers. His Alpha President smile is perfectly in place, the one that graces magazine covers and campaign posters.

Selina laughs at something someone says, tossing her perfect hair over one shoulder, her red dress catching the light in a way that makes her look like she’s glowing. She leans into Arthur, whispering something in his ear, and he smiles down at her.

No. No, no, no.

Before the tears that are pricking at the backs of my eyes begin to spill, I duck behind a large sculpture, trying to steady my breathing. Just then, Hunter shows up with two champagne flutes, handing one to me,

“Are you alright?” he asks, furrowing his brow when he sees the horrified look on my face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I take a large sip of champagne, welcoming the burn down my throat. “I’m fine,” I lie. I can’t tell him. Of course I can’t tell him.

Hunter follows my gaze across the room, his eyes narrowing slightly when he spots Arthur and Selina standing there. “Ah, I didn’t know the Alpha President and his fiancee were attending. That’s a huge deal.”

“I didn’t know either,” I say quickly. Too quickly.

I turn away, leading Hunter toward another section of the gallery, as far from Arthur and Selina as possible. But it seems the universe isn’t done torturing me yet.

“Oh, and of course when the time comes, we’ll want to ensure our child inherits the strongest Alpha traits,” Selina’s voice carries across the room as we pass by a small group of people. “Arthur’s lineage is exceptional. Our future child will make a powerful Alpha President someday!”

My steps falter. Child? They’re planning a child together?

Hunter steadies me with a hand on my elbow. “You sure you’re okay?”

I nod automatically, moving away from the voice that’s slicing through me like a knife. I focus instead on my breathing, on putting one foot in front of the other. Somehow, I make it through the next hour, accepting compliments on my work, discussing technique and inspiration. But inside, I’m crumbling

I’m examining the refreshment table, looking for something stronger than champagne, when a familiar scent hits me. Flowery, expensive perfume. The same perfume I smelled five years ago when that witch entered my home and took my life from me.

I don’t need to turn around to know it’s Selina. I can feel her presence like a cold shadow at my back.

“Selina,” I say stiffly, turning to face her.

She’s even more beautiful than usual today, her skin flawless, her eyes gleaming with something predatory. “I didn’t know you were going to be showing here,” she says, tilting her head to the side.

I still say nothing, not trusting myself to speak. I don’t even trust myself to move, for fear I might slap her.