ALPHA KAEL'S BREEDER

FANCY SECRETARY

Chapter 8

Aria pov

I stood hesitantly at my door, my fingers nervously rubbing the cool metal knob as I contemplated how to muster the courage to turn it. Today marked my first official day as his secretary, a role I had both anticipated and dreaded. Drawing a deep breath, I gently swept my hair back behind my shoulders, trying to project a sense of calm.

Clad in a sleek black gown that hugged my silhouette, a daring slit ran up the back, leaving me feeling both elegant and anxious. The long sleeves offered a touch of modesty, yet the overall ensemble was undeniably bold. I couldn't shake the nagging doubts swirling in my mind. What if he didn't approve of my appearance? What if today turned out to be one of his notoriously bad days, leaving me vulnerable to his wrath?

As I wrestled with my thoughts, a sudden, sharp knock echoed through the hallway, jolting me from my reverie. I paused, the silence wrapping around me before that distinctive knock came again—more forceful this time, sending a shiver cascading down my spine. It was unmistakably Kael's signature knock, a sound that held a mix of authority and menace.

I instinctively took a step back, moving cautiously, each footfall deliberate and quiet as I didn’t want him to realize I was lingering just beyond the threshold.

“I’m coming!” I called out, my voice resonating in the small space, betraying my closest thoughts. In my nervousness, it felt as if my words hardly traveled the short distance to the door, bouncing back awkwardly.

Quickly, I adjusted my dress, gripping the hem tightly to ensure it fell just right. Bringing my hand to my mouth, I took a breath, inhaling softly to check for any lingering traces of anxiety.

“Aria.” The sound of his voice slipped through the door, thick and commanding, chilling my skin. It was a tone that brooked no dissent, slicing through the air with an icy clarity that made my heart race.

"I’m coming, please, Alpha Kael." My heart raced as I made my way toward the door, the sharp click of my heels echoing against the polished floor. I inhaled deeply, steadying my nerves, and grasped the doorknob, mentally counting to five to calm the whirlwind of emotions within me. I swung the door open, my eyes instinctively shutting as I prepared myself for whatever awaited me on the other side.

When my eyes fluttered open, he stood there, a formidable figure with his arms crossed behind his back, exuding an air of authority.

“Good mor—” I began, but he cut me off sharply.

“I don’t like that dress you’re wearing,” he stated, his voice low and filled with a palpable tension. Beneath the surface of his words lay disappointment, and I could sense it like a heavy fog enveloping the room.

“But—”

“No buts. Just go in there and change out of this gown,” he interrupted, standing tall and firm, his piercing gaze unwavering as it locked onto mine.

Frustration bubbled within me; I had spent hours meticulously choosing the perfect outfit, deliberating over the details, and now, in a single breath, all my effort felt undermined. I met his gaze, anger simmering in my chest as I realized how little my choices seemed to matter in this moment.

He stepped closer, his hands gripping my arms with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. He relished this physical connection, but I detested the feeling of his warm breath grazing my skin. A wide grin spread across his face, only to falter moments later as a frown emerged, casting a shadow over his features.

“If you lack a decent fashion sense, I’ll take on the role of a devoted husband by teaching you how to dress appropriately, Aria. This isn’t a ball,” he snarled, abruptly releasing my arms. I stumbled slightly, the air thick with tension as he confidently strode into my room, leaving me momentarily stunned.

“What are you trying to do?” I questioned, hesitantly trailing behind him, my heart racing with uncertainty.

“I’m selecting a dress for you, and you are going to wear it,” he stated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I couldn’t bring myself to blame him entirely for his cowardice; rather, it was my deranged stepmother—the one who had sold me to him—who deserved my ire. The woman had twisted my fate into a grotesque display of control.

I cleared my throat, shaking my head in disbelief as I watched him begin to rummage through my wardrobe. Just the day before, I had endured the stinging slap that served as a harsh reminder of his power over me. He had ordered me to return to this lavishly adorned room, a stark contrast to the reality of my situation—a space filled with opulence that felt more like a gilded cage than a sanctuary.

His fingers glided across the fabric of a short navy blue gown hanging on the rack, the soft texture contrasting sharply with the tension in the air. I forced a smile as his gaze shifted toward me, a mixture of curiosity and determination in his eyes. This man must be out of his mind; the dress clung to my thighs, and if I dared to bend even slightly, the outline of my underwear would be unmistakably visible.

"You’re wearing this!" he declared, his voice firm and unwavering.

"What? That’s absurd, I can’t wear that!" I exclaimed, my heart racing as I turned to leave, desperation clawing at my throat. But before I could take a step, he gripped my arm and pulled me back, our faces mere inches apart.

"Don’t test my patience, young lady," he warned, his nostrils flaring, and his eyes flashing with a fierce intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. I felt the blood drain from my face, my entire body freezing in response to the palpable threat in his tone. That warning felt like a death sentence, chilling and inevitable. With a heavy heart and against my will, I nodded forcefully, acknowledging the gravity of his command.