Chapter 16

Theo's POV The door closed behind Claire with a soft click that somehow felt more final than a slam. I remained frozen in place, her words reverberating through me like physical blows. *"It's not fair to give me hope and then snatch it away..."* Her red-rimmed eyes and trembling figure had nearly broken my resolve. I'd had to grip the edge of my desk to stop myself from crossing the room and pulling her into my arms—an action that would have only confirmed everything she accused me of. Because she was right. I was sending mixed signals, unable to fully commit to either path: maintaining strict professional boundaries or acknowledging the undeniable pull between us. I released a heavy sigh, sinking back into my chair. The office suddenly felt too quiet, too empty without her presence just beyond my door. Scenes from the previous night flashed through my mind with merciless clarity: Claire on the hotel bathroom floor, water droplets tracing paths down her skin; the way her wet hair had clung to her shoulders; the gentle curves barely hidden beneath the towel I'd handed her; and worst of all, those glistening, tearful eyes when she realized I was rejecting her advances. I couldn't deny it—my desire for her was stronger than anything I'd felt for a woman in years. Both my wolf and I were dangerously, obsessively drawn to her. My wolf had been relentlessly vocal about it since our encounter at the club, growing more insistent with each interaction. *Take her. Claim her.* But I couldn't let those impulses win. I wasn't some reckless, hormonal teenage Alpha, ruled by primal instincts with no thought for consequences. I knew exactly what could result from a single moment of weakness. One impulsive decision had led to my ex-wife, to a political marriage that had ended in humiliation and a son who still carried the scars of his mother's abandonment. And Claire was so young—vibrant, with her whole life ahead of her. She deserved someone without my complications, someone who could give her a future unburdened by past mistakes and pack politics. Not a man who would forever be tied to her ex-mate by blood, whose position as Alpha would place her under constant scrutiny, whose age meant their time together would be inherently limited. The rest of the workday passed in a blur of meetings and phone calls, none of which received my full attention. By the time evening arrived, I was grateful for the distraction of my mother's dinner invitation. The family home was a sprawling colonial mansion on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by acres of woodland that had belonged to the Crescent Moon Pack for generations. As I pulled into the circular driveway, memories flooded back—some pleasant, others less so. I was barely through the front door when my mother descended upon me, elegant as always in a tailored navy dress, her silver hair—the same shade mine was becoming—swept into an immaculate updo. "Theodore," she greeted, consulting her watch with a pointed glance. "You're late." I checked my own watch. "I'm exactly on time, Mother." As expected, to her, you're either late or very early. The familiar refrain bringing an involuntary smile to my lips despite my mood. Some things never changed. I bent to kiss her cheek, inhaling the familiar scent of Chanel No. 5 that had been her signature. "It's good to see you too." She patted my arm, her critical gaze softening slightly. "You look tired, dear. Are you working too much again?" Before I could respond, the doorbell rang. A moment later, Adrian entered with Nicole on his arm, both impeccably dressed for a family dinner. Nicole's smile was tight but polite as she greeted my mother, who beamed at her. "Nicole, darling," my mother exclaimed, embracing her future daughter-in-law with genuine warmth. "That dress is stunning on you. Valentino?" "Prada, actually," Nicole replied, clearly pleased by the recognition. "Limited edition." Adrian approached me with a stiff nod. "Father." Our relationship had been strained since the incident in my office, his resentment over my hiring Claire still simmering beneath the surface. "Adrian," I returned evenly. "You're looking well." An awkward silence descended, broken only when a feminine voice called from the direction of the kitchen. "I found the good serving platter! Where do you want the fruit arrangement?" I froze, recognizing the voice immediately. A moment later, Daisy appeared in the entryway carrying an elaborate fruit platter. She was undeniably beautiful—tall and statuesque, with cascading auburn hair and the classic features that marked her Blood Moon Pack heritage. Her eyes lit up when she saw me. "Theo!" she exclaimed, setting down the platter and moving toward me with obvious intent. I glanced at Beta Charles, who had materialized silently in the doorway behind her. His slight shrug confirmed he was as surprised by her presence as I was. I carefully sidestepped Daisy's attempted embrace, maintaining a polite distance. "Daisy," I acknowledged, my tone deliberately neutral. "I wasn't aware you would be joining us this evening." My mother swooped in, her smile too innocent to be genuine. "I mentioned our little family dinner and she was kind enough to offer to come early and assist with the arrangements." I fixed my mother with a look that I knew she could interpret perfectly. "Mother, I believe we've discussed this." "Discussed what?" Daisy asked, her voice carrying a hint of practiced naivety that set my teeth on edge. "Nothing of importance." my mother interjected smoothly. "Now, shall we move to the dining room? Everything is ready." "I'm practically family anyway," Daisy added, linking her arm through mine before I could evade her. "No different from Charles, really." Charles raised an eyebrow but remained diplomatically silent. The dining room was set with the formal setting that my mother reserved for special occasions, the elaborate table setting making it clear this was no impromptu gathering. As we took our seats, I noticed with resignation that my mother had arranged the place cards to position Daisy directly beside me, with Nicole and Adrian across from us. "Wine, Theodore?" my mother offered, already pouring a generous measure of red into my glass. "Thank you," I replied, resisting the urge to drain it immediately. The evening stretched ahead like an obstacle course of thinly veiled matchmaking attempts and family politics. Throughout dinner, Daisy maintained a steady stream of conversation, each comment carefully crafted to highlight our supposed compatibility. She referenced shared acquaintances, mutual business interests, even similar tastes in art and music—connections that seemed to exist primarily in her imagination. I remained polite but distant, my responses just cordial enough to avoid outright rudeness. My mother beamed approvingly at each interaction, while Nicole watched with calculating eyes, clearly assessing the dynamics at play. Adrian seemed mostly bored, his attention focused on his meal and occasionally his fiancée. After the main course had been cleared and dessert served, I found myself fighting a mounting sense of claustrophobia. The elegant dining room with its heavy drapes and formal portraits of ancestors suddenly felt stifling. *This is ridiculous,* I mindlinked to Charles, who sat at the far end of the table. *Did you know this was a setup?* Charles's mental voice held a note of amusement. *Not specifically, but your mother has been dropping hints about Daisy for months. You shouldn't be surprised.* *I've made my position clear. I'm not interested in another political match.* Charles's response was unexpectedly thoughtful. *Maybe it's time, Alpha. If not Daisy, then someone. The pack needs a Luna, and you...* *I what?* I prompted when he hesitated. *You seem lonely. For the first time in years, I might add.* His observation struck closer to home than I cared to admit. Without meaning to, my thoughts drifted to Claire—to her fierce intelligence, her quiet determination, the vulnerability she tried so hard to mask. The way she had challenged me in my office today, refusing to accept the comfortable lie of professional detachment. How different she was from Daisy, with her calculated charm and transparent ambition. Claire's genuine emotions—even her anger—felt like a breath of fresh air compared to the stifling politeness of this dinner table. The realization was as unwelcome as it was undeniable.