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CHAPTER39
Austin
I sense her everywhere,her essence like an inescapable melody that keeps playing in the back of my mind. It’s maddening how she effortlessly infiltrates my thoughts, my defenses.
Saint, well, he’s taken to her presence like he was born to orbit her, and Felix... he is practically her personal hype man. Meanwhile, I’m wrestling with this infuriating contradiction, trying to convince myself that Audrey is really nothing like Sidney.
That I had trapped her, not the other way around.
But in reality, it’s me who’s trapped. Trapped in a whirlwind of emotions I tried so hard to deny. Deny that her laughter can light up a room, that the curve of her lips has become my personal North Star. I thought I could keep her at arm’s length, protect myself from the chaos she brings.
I exhale a frustrated breath, my fingers clenching around the edges of the letter in my hand. A letter that ties us together, just like the contract I caught her in. The irony doesn't escape me—I, the person who took pride in avoiding attachments, have now become entangled because of my own actions.
Fate, it seems, has other plans for me. Plans that involve her—Audrey—and the wild, unpredictable path she’s taking me on. And, for the first time, I’m realizing that maybe fighting this isn’t worth it, a pointless fight when all I want to do is hold her.
I knew about the existence of this letter. The contract between our fathers naming her as mine, and me as hers. Audrey De Luca, the twin meant for my pack, the one my father had whispered about, his voice carrying a mix of hope and regret.
“Son, remember,” he would say, a faint smile tugging at his lips, his eyes heavy with a knowing gaze. “Sometimes, the painting matters less than the artist behind it. Secure the future. It’s the bond between the brush and the canvas that truly holds value.”
His words echo in my mind as I stare at the inked lines on the paper before me, lines that outline a path we’re meant to walk together. And as much as I’ve tried to resist, as much as I’ve fought against the pull that Audrey exerts over me, I can’t deny the truth any longer. My father saw something, knew something I couldn’t fully comprehend until now.
When she left, I started searching for this letter. The alpha in me determined to bring her back, even though I wanted her to make the choice to stay on her own. So Saint dragging her back is what I ultimately wanted if she didn’t come willingly. He’s right, I am a bastard, and I’ve accused him of doing exactly what I would have done.
I clench the letter in my hand, feeling the texture of the paper, the weight of the words. My father’s wisdom lingers, a guiding force even in his absence. As much as I’ve tried to convince myself otherwise, this is bigger than Sidney, bigger than my doubts or fears. We can rewrite the story, to embrace the destiny that has been laid before us, to paint a future that is uniquely ours. If she will accept us.
And the stolen painting was only the bridge that brought us to this point.
Settling into my armchair, a tumbler of bourbon accompanies me in the late hours. The penthouse falls into a hushed serenity, the wall clock’s rhythmic ticks serving as my sole accompaniment. The fiery liquid warms my throat, and I exhale audibly.
Another sip and my thoughts wander to tomorrow. The day I’d start on the mission to court Audrey—my father’s last wish, a responsibility etched into my soul. Focusing on the painting had been a misguided attempt to remedy my guilt over his passing, my absence during his final moments. Yet, Audrey, like an unexpected revelation, emerged as the answer I have been blind to.
Just as I’m lost in my thoughts, the creak of the bedroom door announces Audrey's appearance. The surprise flickers across her face as she catches sight of me.
“Oh, I–” she says, gesturing at the kitchen.
I nod and lift my glass. In reality, I could press my advantage. She’s left the room…one of Saint’s terms.
My gaze sweeps over her delicate figure as she approaches the refrigerator, deftly retrieving a water bottle from within. This omega’s presence grips me, ensnaring me in a way I can’t fully fathom, and truth be told, I’m not even certain I’d wish to escape it even without that letter—an enigma that holds the last wishes of my father.
It arrived the week leading up to my dad’s death. Back then, it had seemed inconsequential, as the De Luca twins were rumored to be dead. I had stashed it away, treasuring it as a keepsake of his last words to me.
“You can sit with me. I won’t tell Saint you left the room,” I suggest, my voice carrying an undercurrent of sincerity.
She snorts skeptically. “Why would you want me here?”
“Because perhaps I’m not the asshole you think I am,” I reply with a wry smile, acknowledging my own flaws. “Well, I’m definitely an asshole, but I don’t want you to have the wrong impression.”
Her laughter punctuates the darkness, infusing it with a certain radiance. When her teeth graze her lower lip, it threatens to unravel my composure. “Maybe for a few minutes. I can’t sleep.”
Observing her, I witness as she curls her legs beneath her and gathers a throw pillow onto her lap. She avoids meeting my eyes, instead casting her gaze out of the window onto the vast, shadowy horizon.
“You’re aware that just because Saint instructed you to stay, it doesn’t mean you’re obligated to if you don’t want to,” I remark, attempting to convey understanding. As she tenses, my words tumble over one another. “I’m not suggesting you leave. I want you here as well. But if this isn’t what you want or—” I pause, grappling for the right words to conclude my sentence. Offering a shrug, I take another sip of my bourbon. “You don’t have to stay. That’s all I’m trying to say.”
She studies me, her eyes momentarily tracing the rim of the tumbler in my hand. There’s something in her expression—guarded yet intrigued—that makes my heart race faster. She shifts slightly, her fingers adjusting the pillow beneath her as if to buy herself more time.
“I appreciate that,” she finally responds, her voice softer now, less defensive. “And I... I don’t really know what I want. This whole situation is just...overwhelming.”
I nod in understanding, my gaze locking onto hers. “Believe me, I understand overwhelming.” I lean back in my chair, allowing the weight of my words to settle in the air between us. “But sometimes, even in the most tumultuous times, you find something unexpectedly meaningful.”
