Birthday +
Alara’s POV The orchestra started soft and slow, a rich waltz melting into the golden air of the ballroom. I didn’t see him approach. But I felt him—Ace Wolfe, the man with a storm behind his eyes and steel beneath his silence. He was suddenly in front of me, offering a hand. The crowd, still reeling from the Lamborghini reveal and our wedding announcement, parted around us like obedient waves. “Dance with me,” he said. I placed my hand in his. My breath caught when his fingers closed over mine—warm, firm, possessive. “Thank you,” I whispered as he guided me to the center of the ballroom. He didn’t ask what I was thanking him for. Maybe he already knew. Maybe he didn’t care. Either way, he pulled me closer. “You should’ve seen your face when the car rolled in,” he said, voice low,
- Writer
