Faking It with the Billionaire Alpha

Freya's POV

"Ready to get married, sweetheart?"

The words hung in the air like a challenge. Or a promise. Or both.

My brain short-circuited.

Just nod. Smile. Don't let them see you sweating like a whore in church.

"Born ready," I managed, my voice steadier than my racing heart.

His smile widened. Wicked. Knowing. Like he could see right through my carefully constructed bullshit and found the hot mess underneath entertaining.

He offered his arm. I took it. His forearm was solid muscle beneath that expensive fabric, and my fingers tingled where they touched him.

Down, girl. He's paid help. Gorgeous, expensive, professionally trained paid help.

The Elder cleared his throat, looking between us with obvious suspicion.

"We... we ren't introduced." His eyes raked over the stranger with barely concealed disdain. "And I don't recognize you from any Pack."

"I'm not from any Pack." The stranger's voice was smooth. Unbothered. "I'm Asher. Freya's fated mate. And her future husband."

Gasps. Whispers. The sound of two hundred people simultaneously losing their fucking minds.

Asher stepped closer to me. His hand found the small of my back, fingers splaying possessively over the exposed skin above my dress's plunging back.

Electricity. Pure, undeniable electricity.

I bit back a gasp.

What the actual fuck?

"We met three months ago," Asher continued, voice carrying through the hall with practiced ease. "At a charity gala. Wasn't love at first sight or any of that mystical bullshit. Just... chemistry. The kind that makes you stupid."

His thumb traced a slow circle on my lower back.

I shivered. Couldn't help it.

"Course, she was married." Asher's expression darkened, eyes hardening. "And I'm not the kind of man who breaks up a home. So I waited. Stayed away. Told myself the connection wasn't real."

He turned slightly, positioning us so everyone could see his face. See the calculated anger there.

"Then I hear her husband found his fated mate. That he threw away five years of marriage for some two-day bond." His lip curled. "And that same husband had the nerve to keep pursuing Freya afterward. Sending messages. Showing up at her friend's apartment. Begging for forgiveness while still fucking his new mate."

What?

I kept my face neutral, but inside, my mind raced.

Caleb had been pursuing me? I'd blocked his number the night of the anniversary party. Changed the locks on the apartment. Refused every call.

Asher was improvising. Adding details I'd never given him.

And holy shit, was it working.

Caleb's face went white. Then red. Then an ugly shade of purple.

"I never—" he started.

"Save it." Asher cut him off with a dismissive wave. "We both know what you are. A man who couldn't keep his dick in his pants. A man who threw away a woman who made him better, stronger, smarter. A man too fucking stupid to see what he had until it was gone."

The crowd murmured. Someone whispered, "He's got a point."

Mia, standing behind Caleb, looked ready to explode. Her perfectly innocent face had twisted into something ugly.

"This is ridiculous!" she sputtered. "He's lying! There's no way this random man is her fated mate!"

Asher turned to her slowly. Those piercing gray-blue eyes traveled over her form with the kind of assessment that made people feel small.

"And you are?"

"Mia! His fated mate!"

"Ah." Asher nodded. "The home wrecker."

More gasps.

"I'm not a home wrecker! The bond is sacred!"

"Sure." Asher shrugged. "And I'm the fucking Easter Bunny. Bonds are sacred. Actions aren't. You saw a married man and decided you wanted him. The bond gave you an excuse."

Mia's mouth opened and closed. No words came out.

Caleb stepped forward, fists clenched. "You don't get to come in here and—"

"I get to do whatever the fuck I want." Asher's voice dropped. Cold. Dangerous. "This is my woman now. My future wife. And you're going to stand there and watch me claim her."

He turned to me.

Those eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my knees weak.

"May I?"

What?

Before I could process, his hand cupped my jaw. Gentle. Firm. Absolutely possessive.

His thumb brushed my lower lip.

"Going to kiss you now," he murmured, loud enough for the front row to hear. "Going to make it clear who you belong to."

I don't belong to anyone.

But I didn't say that.

Because his mouth was already descending.

His lips met mine.

Soft at first. A question.

Then his other hand slid up my back, fingers tangling in my hair, and the kiss changed. Deepened. Became something hungry and demanding and absolutely fucking devastating.

His tongue swept past my lips. Tasting. Claiming. Staking territory like a goddamn explorer planting flags.

I forgot the audience. Forgot Caleb and Mia. Forgot everything except the way Asher's mouth moved against mine.

His body pressed closer. I felt every hard plane of his chest against my softened curves. Felt the heat radiating off him like a furnace.

Mother of God.

A whimper escaped my throat. Embarrassing. Uncontrollable.

He swallowed it.

His grip tightened in my hair. Pulling my head back slightly, angling for better access.

I melted into him. Actually fucking melted. My body turned to liquid while my brain turned to static.

When he finally pulled back, I was dizzy. Breathless. Wet in places I refused to acknowledge.

His lips brushed my ear.

"Was that convincing enough, sweetheart?"

My eyes flew open.

That knowing smirk. Those glinting eyes.

The bastard enjoyed that.

I cleared my throat, fighting to regain composure.

"Very professional," I managed.

His low laugh sent fresh shivers down my spine.

"Glad you're satisfied with the service."

He straightened, arm sliding around my waist again. Possessive. Proprietary.

Like I was his.

The crowd stared. Open-mouthed. Shocked into silence.

Caleb looked like someone had punched him in the gut. Repeatedly.

Mia's face was a mask of barely contained fury.

Good.

Asher turned us toward the exit.

"If anyone needs us, we'll be celebrating. Somewhere with better company and top-shelf whiskey."

He guided me forward. I let him.

We made it three steps before Caleb's voice cracked out.

"Freya, wait!"

I didn't stop.

"Freya, please! We need to talk!"

"Talk to your mate, Caleb." I threw over my shoulder. "She's your problem now."

We swept through the doors and into the sunlight.

The moment we cleared the Pack House entrance, I exhaled.

"Holy shit," I breathed. "That was..."

"Incredible?" Asher supplied.

"I was going to say insane."

He guided me toward a sleek black car waiting at the curb.

"Same thing, sweetheart."

We slid into the backseat. Tinted windows. Leather interior. The scent of his cologne filling the enclosed space.

I turned to face him.

Okay. He was even more devastating up close. The sharp jaw. Those impossible eyes. The slight smile playing at his lips.

"For the record," I said, "I didn't expect you to go that hard on the backstory."

"You hired me to be convincing."

"I hired you to stand there and look pretty."

His smile widened.

"Can do both." He paused. "Also, your ex-husband has a small dick?"

A laugh burst out of me. Genuine. Surprised.

"That's what he gets for cheating."

"Fair." Asher settled back against the seat. "So. Hotel bar? You mentioned celebrating."

I studied him.

This beautiful stranger who'd just performed a one-man takedown of my ex-husband in front of two hundred witnesses.

Who'd kissed me like his life depended on it.

Who was currently looking at me like I was a puzzle he wanted to solve.

"Yeah," I said slowly. "Hotel bar. My treat."

His eyes darkened with something I couldn't name.

"Looking forward to it."