10
NIKOLAJ'S POV
I retreated to the guest room I always claimed when visiting Jaime. From the window, I watched the woman I had shared that feverish, willing night with as she walked down the driveway. Her movements were mechanical, lifeless.
Someone should have followed her; she looked like she was in a state of total shock, her mind clearly elsewhere.
Georgia. Finally, the stranger in my head had a name. Jaime had obviously broken her heart, and she had retaliated by stripping him of his dignity with her words. It confirmed my first impression: she was different.
Most women I knew wouldn't dare cross someone like Jaime. He was the "perfect" catch—handsome, wealthy, and an Alpha heir. Usually, if a man like that strayed, the woman would cry, play the victim, and wait for him to buy her off with comfort and jewelry. But Georgia had stood her ground with pure defiance.
Who was she? She clearly wasn't coming from money, or she would have thrown the cost of the statue in his face and walked out. Yet, she hadn't begged or apologized like someone desperate to keep a rich fiancé. In her eyes, there was only the raw sting of betrayal. What exactly had Jaime done to push her that far?
Jaime hadn't actually read the ancient text thoroughly—and I was glad. The book actually stipulated that the offender serve for one year as a form of penance; the other two years were optional or could be settled financially. Jaime was overreaching, driven by spite.
I watched her until she vanished from sight, a heavy sigh escaping me. Seeing her again had been like a lightning strike to the chest, right when I was finally convincing myself I could forget her.
She was even more beautiful in the light of day. Her dark blonde hair framed her face perfectly, held back by that simple pin. Her dark eyes were a mystery—shifting from fierce defiance to total, crashing recognition the moment she saw me.
She knew.
Just as I had been haunted by her face, she had been haunted by mine.
A part of me was relieved to find her again, but my conscience was a lead weight. Of all the billions of women on this planet, how could I have ended up with my own nephew's fiancée? What had she even been doing in that part of town that night?
I was spiraling into despair. Jaime was impulsive and possessive; he wouldn't care that we were strangers if he found out. He wouldn't care that the engagement was supposedly over. To him, she was his property.
I took a cold shower, trying to wash the thoughts away. The last thing I needed was for Jaime to sense that something was wrong with me.
When I came downstairs, I found Katsha, one of Jaime's secretaries, in the living room. It was late for a work visit. She was dressed casually—hair messy, wearing shorts that looked suspiciously like sleepwear.
Had she spent the night here?
She was staring at the shattered remains of the Alpha Wolf, lost in thought.
"Katsha," I said. She jolted, turning toward me with wide, panicked eyes.
"Al… Alpha Nikolaj," she stammered, backing away. she wouldn't look me in the eye, her hands fidgeting to pull her shorts down further. "I didn't realize you were back."
"I got in today," I replied, drying my hair with a towel as I sat at the dining table. The smell of fried chicken and Bubba Gump shrimp filled the air. I knew I shouldn't be grooming myself at the table, but the silence of my room made my thoughts of Georgia too loud.
"Jaime and I had a lot of files to get through, so he asked me to stay and help catch up," she explained, though I hadn't asked for a justification.
"Sit down. You're staying for dinner, aren't you?" I asked. She took a seat, leaving a cautious gap between us.
Jaime emerged from the kitchen a moment later, frowning at my wet hair. "Seriously, Nikolaj? We're about to eat."
"I'm hungry," I said simply, eyeing the deep-fried chicken.
"Katsha came by to—"
"She told me already. No need for explanations," I interrupted, spearing a shrimp.
"Oh," Jaime muttered, then bounded back up the stairs. "Don't start yet! I haven't plated it." He looked back over his shoulder. "Katsha, serve him before he clears the table."
I chuckled, grabbing four shrimps at once before Katsha could even reach for the serving spoon. Jaime returned quickly, surprisingly bringing a hairdryer to finish my hair right there at the table.
"You're the one making my hair a side dish now," I joked. He laughed, playfully hauling me out of my chair.
We talked throughout dinner, falling into our old rhythm, laughing like we were the same age. Katsha smiled quietly, staying shy and reserved, only answering when directly addressed.
"So, what started the fight with your fiancée?" I asked casually. Katsha suddenly choked on her water.
"Easy there," Jaime said, patting her back before turning to me. "Just a minor misunderstanding. Georgia has a temper. she saw Katsha working here and blew it out of proportion, convinced I was cheating."
He said it so dismissively. Katsha looked deeply uncomfortable.
"She must have quite the fire in her then," I remarked, keeping my voice neutral.
That night, sleep was impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Georgia.
The night we shared played on a loop in my mind—every touch, every sound. But now, it was overlaid with the image of her staring at me in that living room.
I was haunted by the spectrum of emotions I'd seen in her eyes: the joy and seduction of the hotel, the hurt and betrayal of the confrontation, and finally, the pure, paralyzed shock of seeing me again.
Why couldn't I stop thinking about her? No woman had ever taken root in my mind like this. I felt like I was losing control.