The Alpha King’s Unclaimed Mate

Valentina’s POV “Where on earth are those flowers?” a woman screamed from down the hall. “They were supposed to be at the front doors twenty minutes ago!” “Those are completely the wrong colors!” a man shouted right over her. “I asked for gold and white, not yellow!” “The dining tables aren't set yet! Someone find the head butler right now!” The loud yelling reached the palace kitchen long before the angry people ever stepped inside. I squeezed my piping bag tight until my fingers went numb, trying my best to focus on the work in front of me instead of staring toward the heavy wooden doors. My heart was thumping against my ribs like a trapped bird, and my ears burned with every new wave of noise. Hurried footsteps clicked loudly across the shiny marble floor outside, followed by another sharp command. “Move those carved chairs into the east hall right now! "Has anyone seen Signora Gracia?” I closed my eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath to settle the sudden knot in my chest. This is pure chaos. Tonight was the annual Italian Unity Gala, the single biggest event on the royal calendar. Powerful Alphas, important Betas, and high-ranking Omegas from every major pack in the country were already arriving at the front gates in their finest clothes. Hundreds of rich, elite wolf guests were preparing to celebrate, while the palace staff worked until they were exhausted to make sure not a single detail failed. And somehow, my little bakery from Florence had been picked to make the main desserts for the King's table. My bakery. Forcing my eyes open, I looked down at the silver tray sitting on the steel counter. Six perfectly shaped chocolate croissants sat in neat, even rows. Their golden layers caught the overhead lights, filling the air with the delicious smell of butter and sweet chocolate. At least something in this chaotic palace was going right. “Valentina, sweetie, are you okay over there?” I looked up, my shoulders tight. Sofia was standing across the wide worktable, holding a small glass bowl of warm dark chocolate while staring at me with wide, worried eyes. “What do you mean?” I asked, my voice coming out a little stiffer than I wanted. “I mean you’ve been squeezing the exact same line of chocolate onto that single croissant for thirty seconds,” she said, tilting her head. “Your hand is completely frozen, Val.” I blinked fast, dropping my eyes back down to my hands. She was right. A thick spot of dark chocolate was slowly pooling across the golden crust. “Oh,” I muttered, pulling the bag back with an embarrassed frown. “I didn't realize.” Beside her, my brother Matteo set down a stack of white dessert plates and leaned over the table. The teasing smirk on his face quickly went away, replaced by that protective brother look he always wore whenever he could tell I was struggling. “Alright, talk to us, Val,” he said quietly, lowering his voice so the busy chefs rushing past wouldn't hear us. “You’ve been tense since the moment we drove through the front gates. What’s really going on in your head?” I swallowed hard, looking down at the wooden board between us. “I just... I really can’t afford to ruin this, Matteo. Everything I’ve worked so hard to build on my own depends on tonight going well. If we make one mistake, my bakery's reputation is ruined.” Matteo’s face grew softer. He tapped his fingers lightly against the counter to get my attention. “Valentina, look around you,” he said softly, pointing with his chin toward the main cooking area. “Look at these people. Everyone in this kitchen is completely losing their minds right now. The head chef literally threatened a guy two minutes ago over a missing box of bread!” “He waved a huge butcher knife at him too,” Sofia whispered, leaning in with wide eyes. “It was scary.” “See? Exactly my point,” Matteo said, turning back to me. “The palace cooks are losing their heads over basic bread, and here you are, worrying if your fancy croissants taste good enough. The royal court searched through dozens of bakeries across the country and specifically picked yours to feed the Alpha King. You didn't get picked by accident, Val. You earned this with your own two hands.” Sofia placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, giving it a sweet squeeze. “He’s completely right, sweetie. The royal scouts tasted your food and knew right away that you were the best choice. You wouldn't be standing in this kitchen if you couldn't do it.” The scary knot in my stomach began to break apart, replaced by a warm rush in my cheeks. A small smile finally tugged at my lips. “Thank you,” I murmured, taking a long, peaceful breath. “Both of you.” Matteo smiled warmly, bumping his shoulder affectionately against mine. “Now no more panicked faces. Focus on the food.” I turned back to the tray, feeling the nervous shake in my fingers vanish completely. One pastry at a time, I reminded myself. Not the giant palace outside these doors. Not the hundreds of rich, scary wolf guests filling the party rooms. And certainly not the untouchable Alpha King sitting high on his throne. Guiding the piping bag with careful, smooth moves, I laid down a final swirl of dark chocolate across the golden crust, then stepped back. It was completely perfect. One by one, I finished icing the remaining pastries. My hands moved fast and smooth, every last trace of my worry melting away into the familiar flow of my work. Soon, several large silver trays sat neatly arranged across the counter, glowing under the warm lights. A team of palace servers dressed in crisp black vests and white gloves stepped up to our table, carefully lifting the heavy trays. I stood back and watched them carry the desserts toward the double doors, letting my shoulders drop. We had survived, somehow. Then, my eyes caught something unusual near the end of the main counter. A man was standing right beside the high priority platters, the specific desserts clearly marked for the Alpha King’s private table. He was wearing the standard palace staff uniform, but something about the way he stood felt completely off. He wasn't hurrying like the other cooks. He wasn't holding a dish. He was just standing there in total silence, staring down at the trays. My eyes narrowed as I watched him. He leaned in close to the King's platter, his fingers hovering right near the small paper card where the ingredients were written. Without warning, an ice-cold prickle swept up the back of my neck. I pushed off the counter, taking a firm step toward him to ask what he was doing. “Signora Moretti!” a booming voice called out behind me. I froze and turned my head. The head chef was rushing over from the main stove, wiping his sweaty brow with a folded towel. I quickly turned my eyes back toward the counter and my stomach dropped. The man was gone. And so were the King's trays. Before I could even make another move, the head chef reached my station, a broad, relieved smile breaking across his face. “Signora Moretti, we are so deeply grateful to have you and your team here to cater for the pastries tonight,” he said, gesturing toward the silver stands. “Your work looks absolutely perfect. The palace is truly lucky to have you.” I blinked, swallowing hard as I forced a polite smile onto my face. “Oh... thank you, Chef. It is an absolute honor to serve the King.” “Excellent! Now let's make sure the rest of the course goes out smoothly,” he said, giving me a quick nod before turning around to shout new orders at his cooks. I stood there in the middle of the loud, buzzing kitchen as he walked away, staring blankly at the swinging double doors through which the King's tray had just disappeared. The chef was gone, the man was gone, and the pastries were sitting out on the main banquet display. But as I looked at those heavy wooden doors, I still couldn't shake that ice-cold sensation twisting deep in my chest.