Sleeping with My Best Friend's Alpha Father
I wasn't supposed to be here.
Girls like me don't belong to Alpha parties.
I came as a favor.
As a waitress.
As the poor best friend nobody notices.
Until he noticed me.
Fresh from the shower.
Bare chest. Water sliding down hard muscle.
Eyes like a predator that already chose its prey.
My best friend's father.
The Alpha King.
He helps me with my dress when the zipper gets stuck.
His fingers brush my skin.
My breath stutters.
The air changes.
He looks at me like he knows me.
Like he owns me.
Then the party turns ugly.
Hands grabbing. Drinks forced to my lips. Laughter is too loud.
And just when everything almost breaks
He comes for me.
Carries me out like I'm something precious. Something is his.
That night shouldn't have happened.
But the moon was high.
My body burned.
And when he whispered "mine" against my ear, I forgot every rule I ever lived by.
I woke up in his bed.
In his scent.
In his world.
I'm about to lie to my best friend... say I'm already home...
When I hear her voice outside his bedroom door.
"Dad? Breakfast's ready."
Dad.
Oh God.
The Alpha King isn't just my mistake.
He's hers.
And now he says I'm his mate.
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Chapter 5
My heart stopped.
"Dad, breakfast!"
Sienna's voice.
Bright. Cheerful. Normal.
Right outside the door.
The word hit me harder than anything.
Dad.
Dad?
My body went cold.
I sat up too fast, the blanket sliding off me. Roman's shirt hung loose on my skin. His scent clung to me. Warm. Dangerous. Familiar.
Dad.
My brain refused to connect it.
Then it did.
And everything crashed at once.
The door handle moved.
I panicked.
Roman stepped in front of me instantly.
Blocking me.
Shielding me.
Like he already knew what I was thinking.
"Don't open it," he said slowly.
"I wasn't going to," I whispered.
My voice shook.
Not from fear.
From shock.
Sienna knocked lightly.
"Dad? Are you awake?"
Dad.
Again.
Each time felt like a slap.
Roman didn't answer her.
He kept his eyes on me.
Watch me carefully.
Too carefully.
Like I might run.
Like I might break.
"Say something," I whispered.
His jaw tightened. "In a minute."
"She called you Dad."
"I know."
"She called you Dad."
"I heard her, Elena."
My chest felt tight.
My throat burned.
"Sienna is my best friend," I said slowly. "My only friend."
He said nothing.
The silence told me everything.
"You're her father?" I asked.
He nodded once.
That was it.
Just one small nod.
Like it wasn't a bomb.
Like it wasn't ruining my entire world.
I laughed.
A small, broken sound.
"You're joking."
"I'm not."
"This is a mistake."
"It isn't."
"No," I said, shaking my head. "No. No. No. This can't be real. I work for her family. I slept over at her house. I tell her everything. Everything. And you"
My voice cracked.
"And you're her father?"
He stepped closer.
"Lower your voice."
"Don't tell me what to do."
"She'll hear you."
"I don't care!"
I did care.
But I was too hurt to admit it.
Memories hit me all at once.
Sienna laughing with me in the kitchen.
Sienna talking about her strict father.
Sienna says, He never smiles. He's scary. But he loves me.
My stomach twisted.
Roman.
She meant Roman.
All this time.
"You knew," I said quietly.
He didn't answer.
"You knew who I was the whole time."
"I suspected."
"Don't lie."
His eyes flickered.
That was enough.
"You knew," I repeated.
"Yes."
The word was heavy.
Honest.
And it hurt more than a lie.
"Since when?" I asked.
"The moment I smelled you at the gala."
"Smelled me?"
"My wolf recognized you."
I swallowed.
"And then?"
"And then I checked the staff list."
My chest tightened.
"So you investigated me."
"Yes."
"Like I'm some threat?"
"No," he said sharply. "Like you're something precious."
I stared at him.
Anger. Confusion. Heat.
Too many emotions at once.
"You should have told me," I said.
"I couldn't."
"Why?"
"Because the second you knew who I was, you would've run."
He wasn't wrong.
And that made me angrier.
"So what?" I asked. "You thought sleeping with me first would make it easier?"
His face darkened.
"Don't say it like that."
"Like what? Like the truth?"
"Last night wasn't manipulation."
"It feels like it."
He flinched.
Actually flinched.
Like I had stabbed him.
His voice dropped.
"Last night was the first time in years I wasn't alone."
That stopped me.
"You think this is easy for me?" he continued. "You think I planned to want you? You think I planned for my daughter's best friend to be my mate?"
Mate.
That word again.
It twisted my heart.
"I hate it," he said quietly. "I hate how complicated this is. I hate how dangerous it is. But I don't hate you."
Silence.
Soft. Painful.
"I can't," he added. "I tried."
My anger cracked a little.
Just a little.
Because his voice wasn't cold.
It was tiring.
Lonely.
Real.
"I feel stupid," I admitted.
"For what?"
"For trusting you so fast."
"That wasn't stupidity," he said. "That was instinct."
"Or weakness."
"No." His voice hardened. "Don't call yourself weak."
"You don't know me."
"I know enough."
He stepped closer.
Too close.
My heart reacted instantly.
Traitor.
"I know you stayed calm when those men grabbed you," he said. "I know you fought even when you were drugged. I know you still worried about your friend while you were scared."
His eyes softened.
"You're stronger than half my pack."
My throat tightened.
No one had ever said something like that to me before.
But the problem was still there.
Huge.
Unavoidable.
"Sienna," I whispered. "She trusts me."
"So do I."
"This will hurt her."
"I know."
"Then what are we doing?"
He didn't answer.
Because neither of us knew.
A knock again.
Louder this time.
"Dad? Are you okay?"
I froze.
Roman closed his eyes briefly.
Then he spoke through the door.
"I'll be down soon."
"Okay! Don't skip breakfast again!"
Her footsteps faded.
The silence afterward felt heavier.
I wrapped my arms around myself.
"I should go," I said.
"No."
The word came fast.
Sharp.
Possessive.
I blinked. "What?"
"You're not leaving."
"I can't stay here."
"You can't leave either."
"That's not your choice."
"It is."
My anger came back. "You don't own me."
"I'm trying to protect you."
"From what?"
"From my enemies."
My stomach dropped.
"What enemies?"
He stared at me.
Measuring.
Then he said quietly, "Last night wasn't random."
"What do you mean?"
"The men who drugged you? They weren't drunk idiots."
My heart pounded.
"They were sent."
"Sent by who?"
"Rival packs."
My mouth went dry.
"Why me?"
His eyes darkened.
"Because you're connected to me."
"But they didn't know that," I said.
"They suspected."
"How?"
"Because someone told them."
The words hung heavy.
Betrayal.
Inside job.
My chest tightened.
"Someone in your pack?" I whispered.
He nodded.
"Yes."
Twist.
Another one.
Nothing felt safe anymore.
Not the house.
Not the people.
Not even my friend's family.
"So if I walk out that door..." I said slowly.
"They'll take you," he finished.
"Use you against me."
My hands trembled.
"I didn't ask for this."
"I know."
"I just wanted a job. A normal life."
"I know."
"But now I'm in some war because of you."
His voice broke.
"I'm sorry."
He rarely apologized.
I could tell.
The word sounded foreign in his mouth.
Heavy.
Real.
And that made it worse.
Because I believed him.
"I need time," I whispered.
"You don't have time."
"Don't say that."
"They're moving fast."
"So what? I just stay locked in your room forever?"
"If that's what keeps you safe, yes."
I stared at him.
"You really would cage me."
"I'd burn the world first."
My heart betrayed me again.
Because part of me liked that.
Liked how fiercely he cared.
Even if it scared me.
"I don't know what we are," I said softly.
His answer came without hesitation.
"Mine."
My breath caught.
Then he added quietly, "If you'll have me."
Before I could reply
Knock.
Soft.
Then the door handle turned.
My blood ran cold.
Sienna's voice floated in, confused and curious.
"Dad? Why is the door locked?"
My heart slammed.
Roman and I locked eyes.
Too close.
Too guilty.
Too late.
The handle moved again.
And she said
"... Elena? Are you in there?"
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7.5
On the morning of our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, I found a cream-colored document tucked inside my husband's suit pocket.
It was a twenty-million-dollar asset transfer for his former receptionist, Carmen. But what made my blood run cold was the contingent beneficiary: Leo, my newborn son who the hospital claimed was kidnapped twenty-three years ago.
When I confronted Devonte, he didn't even try to explain. He handed me a fake Cartier watch, canceled all my credit cards, and publicly called me delusional.
The next day, he moved Carmen into our mansion and emptied all our joint accounts into offshore trusts.
"If you don't sign these papers and walk away, I will have you committed," he threatened, his mother nodding in agreement.
They had orchestrated the kidnapping of my baby, hiding him with the mistress while I spent half my life sedated and screaming in grief. Now, to keep his secret, Devonte was going to lock me in a psychiatric ward and bury me in debt.
I didn't understand how the man I loved could be such a monster. Why did he steal my child? What else was hidden in that confidential adoption file?
Pushed to the absolute brink, I refused to be his victim.
When his goons came to my temporary apartment to drag me away, I turned to the rugged union electrician who had just fixed my lights.
"If you need a husband to keep you out of a psych ward, I'll marry you," he said, offering himself as my legal shield.
I took his hand. It was time to tear my husband's perfect life apart.
7.1
For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne.
But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.”
My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love.
He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party."
7.6
I am the wife of Julian Falcone, a powerful mafia boss, but my title in this house is nothing but a joke.
When our car broke down in a deadly blizzard, Julian rushed to the scene, only to bypass me entirely.
He wrapped his heavy coat around his fragile cousin, Livia, and put her in his only available passenger seat.
"Livia's constitution is too weak to survive this cold. I have to take her back first."
He left me to freeze in the pitch-black car for the entire night.
When his men finally dragged my half-dead body out the next morning, they openly mocked me, calling me a piece of "collateral" that the boss wouldn't care about as long as I was breathing.
Back at the estate, Julian didn't even ask if I had survived the frostbite. Instead, he stormed into my sickroom, demanding I treat his mistress with respect just because my absolute silence had hurt her feelings.
His grandmother then publicly humiliated me for failing to provide an heir, while Livia flaunted the custom diamond bracelet Julian bought to soothe her "fright" from the storm.
I finally understood. He didn't marry me out of honor to save my fallen family. He just needed my aristocratic Rossi blood to legitimize his new-money mafia empire.
I was never a wife. I was a transaction he was willing to let freeze to death.
When his men delivered a heavy diamond necklace to buy my submission, I didn't cry or beg.
I dropped the blood diamond into the deepest drawer, and began to plan my escape.
8.6
The Maybach glided through rain, Dante's cold cedar cologne a familiar comfort. Seven years, my life revolved around him, my fingers on his suit cuff, a silent promise. But tonight, our normal shattered with a single phone call.
He answered, speaking rapid Italian – a language he thought I didn't understand. Every word: a death knell. Confirming his engagement to Sofia Moretti, dismissing me as a 'consolation prize.'
Seven years of loyalty vanished. His loving mask back, he left for his fiancée. I stumbled into freezing rain, recalling my foster past. My numb fingers dialed his mother, Isabella, demanding fifty million for my silence. Her insults didn't sting.
The true gut punch: Sofia's Instagram, a prenup on Dante's desk, proudly showing *my* watch, captioned: 'Fourteen days left.' This wasn't their celebration; it was my death sentence.
I wouldn't stay another day in this gilded cage. My old duffel bag, packed, waited. The Australia brochure, a childhood dream, in my pocket. This time, I would live for myself, and they would all pay.
9.3
I was the Mafia Princess of the Wolfe family, engaged to Daniel Marino to unite our powerful syndicates.
But during a hit at a speakeasy, we were both gunned down.
As my chest was torn apart by a Tommy gun, I looked at my fiancé, expecting him to reach for me.
Instead, there was no despair in his eyes, only a twisted, selfish terror.
We both died on that floor, but the devil sent us back to the day of my hospital discharge.
Instead of finalizing our wedding, Daniel stormed into my father’s study.
"I won't marry Isabella. I want Celine."
He demanded to break our engagement, claiming he wouldn't be collateral damage in a Wolfe family war, and declared his true love for my sweet, orphaned adopted sister.
He thought shedding me would save his life, completely unaware that the assassination was orchestrated by his precious Celine.
In my past life, I didn't know she was a rat who sold our patrol routes to rivals and plotted my murder just to take my place.
If I hadn't died once, I would have believed her manufactured tears and comforted her.
But this time, I remembered everything.
I buried the vengeful woman I had become and let my face pale as I pushed open the heavy oak doors.
"Daniel? You... you want Celine?" I whispered, forcing a heartbroken tear to fall.
This time, I would play the fragile victim, just so I could orchestrate their absolute ruin.
7.4
Elena was never meant to choose her own fate.
She was sold-not asked, not begged, just handed over to Lorenzo De Luca, the most feared man in the city.
A billionaire. A mafia king. Ruthless, possessive, and merciless.
To him, she is nothing more than a debt repaid... a possession to claim.
But Elena is fragile, unloved, and wary of every touch... yet her heart and body betray her, drawn to the man she swore to hate.
In a world where danger lurks in every shadow, secrets threaten to unravel everything, and betrayal waits behind every door, their bond grows-twisted, forbidden, irresistible.
Elena must decide: survive the intoxicating power and obsession of the man who owns her, or surrender completely-and risk losing herself forever to the billionaire mafia king