Alpha Conrad: Claiming The Wrong Bride

It was still very early in the morning, the first rays of the morning sun would begin to bleed through the curtains soon.

Nadia stirred as she felt his warm presence behind her.

Alpha Conrad was awake, though he remained silent.

He leaned in, his lips pressing a lingering, tender kiss on her bare shoulder.

Nadia kept her eyes shut, her heart beating frantically.

She stayed perfectly still, her back to him, praying her scent wouldn't betray her.

In his hazy, post-coital state, Conrad didn't notice the subtle difference in her aura.

He gently lifted the duvet to adjust his position, and his eyes fell on the moon crescent birthmark on her back and then on the red stains on the white sheets.

A surge of possessiveness and unexpected tenderness washed over him.

He pulled her closer, burying his face in the crook of her neck before his breathing slowed, and he drifted back into a deep, satisfied sleep.

Danielle peered out, seeing that Conrad was out; she crawled toward Nadia’s side of the bed on her hands and knees.

"Move! Now!" Danielle mouthed, her face twisted in a silent snarl.

Nadia didn't need to be told twice.

She slid out from under the covers, her body aching with a soreness that made her wince.

She grabbed her clothes from the floor and scurried into the bathroom.

In a matter of minutes, she was dressed.

She exited the bathroom just as Danielle climbed into the warm spot she had vacated, tucking herself against Conrad’s chest.

Nadia took one last look and fled the room.

As she hurried down the hotel staircase, her phone vibrated in her pocket. It was Katerina.

"Is it done?" her aunt’s voice came through.

"It’s done," Nadia whispered into the receiver, her voice cracking. "I am leaving the hotel now. Tell the lawyers to withdraw the charges against my mother immediately."

"They are already on it. Go home, Nadia. And remember: this never happened."

Nadia hung up, her head down as she rushed through the lobby. She was so consumed by her own thoughts that she didn't see the man walking toward her. She slammed into a hard chest.

"Watch where you are going!" the male voice snapped.

Nadia looked up, her eyes wide. "I... I'm so sorry, I—"

"Nadia? Is that you?"

Nadia’s eyes adjusted. "Valentine?"

Her voice instantly shifted into a happy squeal. It was Valentine, her best friend from college. Before she could process the shock, he pulled her into a massive, familiar hug.

"Oh my god, look at you!" Valentine laughed, pulling back to inspect her. "What on earth are you doing at a five-star hotel at seven in the morning?"

Nadia’s mind raced for a lie. "I... I went partying with a friend. We were so knocked out that her boyfriend decided we should just crash here instead of driving back to our neighborhood."

Valentine raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "You? Attending parties? Since when do you do anything other than study and work three jobs?"

Nadia looked down, her face heating up. "My friends had to drag me out, Val. It was a one-time thing. But I have a freelance gig I need to catch, which is why I’m leaving so early." She looked at him, trying to change the subject. "I am still upset with you, you know. You moved overseas and ghosted me completely!"

Valentine sighed, his expression softening. "I know, I know. Life overseas was a lot to handle, Nadia. I had to figure out a lot of things. But I am back now, and I am not going anywhere." He squeezed her hands. "I hope you are open to dinner dates and hangouts like we used to do. It’s the only way I can make it up to you."

"Why not?" Nadia said, forced to smile despite the turmoil inside her. "I’ve missed our rants."

They quickly exchanged contacts, and Valentine gave her one last squeeze. "I’ll call you later today. Don't you dare ghost me back!"

"I won't! I have to run!"

Nadia practically sprinted to the bus station. She managed to get home, scrub the heavy makeup off her face, and change into her regular clothes just as a taxi pulled up outside.

The door opened, and Estelle stepped out, looking pale and frail.

"Mom!" Nadia screamed, running out to meet her. She threw her arms around her mother, sobbing into her neck.

"I'm okay, baby. I'm okay," Estelle whispered, stroking Nadia’s hair. She pulled back, her eyes searching her daughter’s face. "First things first, Nadia. Call Nelson. I need to thank him properly for getting me out of that nightmare."

Nadia wiped her eyes and looked away. "Nelson did not get you out, Mom. I didn't even call him."

Estelle froze. "He didn't help? Then who did? Nadia, how did you get the charges dropped? What did you do?"

"It doesn't matter," Nadia said, her voice dropping to a flat, hollow tone. "You are back home now. That is all that counts. I just hope you take this as a cue to never work for Uncle Edward or his family ever again. Going forward, I would work hard to take care of you; you do not have to work for them anymore."

"Nadia—"

"I’m tired, Mom. I’m going to my room."

Nadia walked into her small bedroom and shut the door. She stripped off her clothes, letting them fall in a heap on the floor. She stepped into the tiny shower, turning the water on as hot as she could stand it.

She tried to block out the memories, but they flooded back: the smell of his perfume, the weight of his body on hers, and the way he had whispered that she was beautiful at every given point in time. A deep, gnawing guilt tugged at her conscience.

But that was just it; life was unfair, and she had to trade her last asset for her mother's freedom, but this was going to be the last time she begged for mercy.

It was going to be the last time she traded her body or her self-worth for favors or anything in particular.

Deep down, she knew her mom did not steal from Aunt Katerina; last night put everything in perspective. Again, she had been used in the most manipulative way as a means to an end she did not know about.

She did not care.

She resolved that she was going to put this disaster behind her and work hard enough to make her uncle and his wife pay for everything they had done to her and her mother.

The first step: she needed to get a fucking job and put her degree to use.

***

The morning sun clawed through the gaps in the blackout curtains, but Alpha Conrad felt like it was clawing through his skull instead.

He woke with a groan, his hand flying to his temple to stem the tide of a splitting headache.

The first thing he noticed when he took a deep breath, was that something was off, his nostrils flared in rejection.

It was the scent.

The scent was wrong.

It was a harsh scent that stung the back of his throat.

He was tempted to ask if she had changed her perfume in the middle of the night, but he stopped himself, his mind foggy and sluggish. He tried to blink the world into focus, and as he moved his hand away from his face, he noted the dried blood stains on his fingers.

His gaze drifted to the sheets.

He squinted, turning his head to see Danielle lying next to him.

She was already watching him, her lips curved into an elegant smile. "Good morning, Your Highness," she whispered, her voice honeyed and light.

"Good morning," Conrad responded, his voice a low and gravelly rasp.

"I hope you slept well?" Danielle asked, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

Conrad winced at the movement, the pressure in his head spiking. "I did. But I cannot explain the splitting headache I am currently dealing with. It feels like a dull blade behind my eyes."

Danielle’s expression shifted into one of exaggerated sympathy. "Oh, you poor thing. If we were home, I would have made you my mother’s special herbal tea. It works like magic for tension. It is a family secret."

Conrad chuckled, adjusting himself to sit up against the headboard. "Sadly, we are not in your house, Danielle. My staff can prepare something once we leave." He paused, his nose twitching again as he looked at her. "Did you change your perfume from what you wore last night?"

Danielle stiffened for a fraction of a second, her hand faltering. She forced a small, airy laugh. "No, of course not. Why would you ask that?"

"It just seems... stronger," Conrad muttered, rubbing his brow.