Damon’s gaze flicked up, his answer clipped but honest.
“Yes.”
Vaughn laughed outright.
“Good.
Physical chemistry is a fast track to the emotional kind.
But you’ve been celibate for years, so pace yourself.
Don’t overwhelm the poor woman.”
The mood lightened, the tension easing into something like camaraderie.
A few minutes later, Silas’s phone buzzed on the table.
He glanced at the screen and picked up at once.
“Hey, love.
Yeah, still at the lounge… I know, I know.
I’ll head home soon.
You don’t have to wait up.”
He hung up with an apologetic smile.
“My mate’s calling me back.
You lot keep going.
I’ll cover the tab tonight.”
Julian smirked.
“Doctor Ward, the Luna’s got you on a tight leash.”
Silas shrugged into his coat, unbothered.
“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
See you.”
Silas’s mate was a famous film actress.
The pairing had raised eyebrows at first but turned out rock-solid.
He was famously devoted to her, the kind of wolf who dropped everything the moment she called.
Not long after Silas left, Julian’s phone rang.
He answered with a soft smile, his voice gentling.
“Hey, sweetheart… No, I haven’t been drinking.
I’ll be home soon.
Don’t stay up.”
Julian and his mate were childhood friends turned lifelong partners.
They’d mated fresh out of university and had been inseparable ever since.
He stood, straightening his collar.
“That’s my cue.
Don’t stay out too late, Damon.”
Within minutes the room had emptied, leaving only Damon and Vaughn.
Damon’s phone sat on the table in front of him.
Dark.
Silent.
Untouched.
No new messages.
No missed calls.
He poured himself another whiskey and drank it down.
The burn did nothing to ease the frustration gnawing at his chest.
That was the trouble with comparing.
During the six years Ava had been with Victor, had she ever let him stay out this late without checking in?
Had she called to ask when he’d be home?
Had she cared enough to worry?
Or was it only with Damon that she kept this perfect, professional distance?
Because to her, he was nothing more than a contract employer she had to manage.
He poured another glass.
Vaughn, noticing the shift in his mood, slid into the seat beside him.
“She didn’t call, and now you’re sulking?”
Damon stared into the amber liquid, his voice low.
“She probably doesn’t think it’s necessary.”
Vaughn chuckled.
“You’re getting ahead of yourself.
You’ve been married, what, a few days?
The woman barely knows you.
You expect her to call and check in like a devoted mate already?
Give her time.
Give yourself time.
You can’t force this.”
Damon’s lips twitched in a faint, humorless smile.
He drank again.
He knew Vaughn was right.
Logically, he understood.
But logic didn’t stop the ache of disappointment from settling deep in his chest.
The hours crawled past midnight.
Damon stayed, stubborn and spiteful, as if punishing himself, or her, for the silence.
The mansion was quiet, save for the soft click of keyboard keys.
Ava sat at the desk in her room, fingers flying across the laptop as she finished the last of her design proposals.
Her studio had unexpectedly handed her a project in Paris, which meant she’d be leaving in two days and needed everything in order before then.
Hours blurred together when she worked like this.
By the time she leaned back to stretch her stiff neck and glanced at the clock, it was already past midnight.
Damon still wasn’t home.
He’d mentioned going out tonight, something about meeting friends, but hadn’t said when he’d be back.
Ava shut her laptop and tidied the scattered papers on her desk, her mind wandering despite herself.
Should she text him?
Ask if he was okay?
It was what a wife would do, wasn’t it?
Check in.
Show concern.
Make sure he knew someone was waiting.
But their relationship wasn’t a normal one.
He’d made that clear from the start.
This was a contract.
A transaction.
He was a busy man, an Alpha King with responsibilities far beyond her understanding.
He’d told her he traveled often, worked late, and didn’t expect her to keep tabs on him.
If she messaged him now, would he think she was overstepping?
Being clingy?
Trying to control him when she had no right to?
When she’d been with Victor, she’d learned fast not to ask too many questions.
Victor prized his freedom, hated feeling tied down.
She’d been the understanding girlfriend, the one who never complained when he stayed out late or canceled plans.
Maybe Damon expected the same.
Maybe that was the smart play.
Give him space, don’t make demands, stay out of his way.
Ava chewed her lip, staring at her phone.
After a long moment of indecision, she opened her messages and pulled up Chloe’s contact instead.
Chloe Reed, her closest friend since architecture school, was a notorious night owl.
If anyone was still awake at this hour, it was her.
Ava: You up?
The reply came within seconds, followed by an incoming call.
“Babe, what’s wrong?” Chloe’s bright, energetic voice filled the line.
Ava walked over to the window seat and sank into the cushions, lowering her voice out of habit.
“Nothing’s wrong, I just… I have this friend.
Her husband went out tonight and it’s really late, and she’s not sure if she should call and check on him.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then Chloe laughed.
“Ava, honey.
You don’t have any other friends.
This ‘friend’ is you.”
Ava’s cheeks warmed.
“…Okay, fine.
It’s me.”
“There we go.” Chloe’s grin came through loud and clear.
“Alright, lay it on me.
How have things been with the mysterious Alpha King?
What’s his vibe?
Warm?
Cold?
Distant?
Give me the details and I’ll tell you what to do.”