The Alpha's Filthy Secret.

- CHAPTER ELEVEN -

Sloane.

I spent five days hearing the same answer.

'No.'

Nobody wants to invest after hearing the words 'Blackridge Capital.'

My latest meeting ended ten minutes ago with another polite smile and handshake. I sit alone in a private restaurant booth, staring at financial projections on my tablet screen.

Then I heard a voice.

"Miss Eva?"

I looked up.

A stranger stands beside my table. He was tall, with sun brown hair, hazel eyes. He was handsome, not devilish kind of, but hot in a way that was breathtaking. His posture was relaxed, he didn't look like someone who is afraid of anything or anyone.

"Have we met?" I asked.

"Not officially."

He pulls out the chair opposite me and sits down without asking.

I stiffened. "I don't remember inviting you."

A faint smile touches his mouth. "You didn't," He looks at me for two seconds before speaking again. "I'm Roan Rhys."

The name stole the breath from my lungs. The name means something. EvenI know, who he is.

Billionaire.

Model.

Tech heir.

Investor.

He does not start talking about numbers right away. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.

"You need someone with deeper pockets than Blackridge." He says.

My fingers tighten around my glass. "You've been listening,"

"You were talking loudly enough for the entire restaurant to hear,"

"Then you also heard that Blackridge owns fifty one percent of my company."

"I heard."

He sits back, completely unbothered.

"You're not scared?" I asked.

He raises an eyebrow. "Should I be?"

I told him exactly what Raul Blackridge was capable of. I told him about the forced acquisitions, the intimidation, and the way companies disappear after refusing him.

Roan listened without interrupting or flinching. Instead, his face lit up in delight, almost as if he was amused.

"The rumors are true then," he says, leaning back into his chair. "Sounds like a man who's used to people stepping aside,"

"Correct."

"I'm not people, Eva."

My heart skips a beat. I told myself I wasn't attracted to him. It was merely just a shock of seeing a human- no, anyone stand up to Raul's name.

"I'm offering fifteen million." Roan says.

I swallowed hard in shock. It is more than Raul's investment. But unlike Raul, he doesn't seem to want control of my board. He wants a strategic partnership."

I stare at him, trying to read him. "Why?"

"Because I think you're worth betting on."

"That's not a business answer, Mr. Rhys."

His eyes hold mine. "Maybe I have more than one reason."

That answer unsettles me.

"Blackridge won't easily let you in." I told him.

Roan smiles. "Then I'll knock twice."

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black card, sliding it across the table. He stands up and adjusts his shirt. For the first time in days, I feel something dangerously close to hope.

I pack my tablet, slide the card into my bag, and head for the exit.

As I leave, I see Roan standing near a black car a few feet away. His phone pressed to his ear, his brows furrowed in deep concentration.

I shouldn't listen or pry in, but I do anyway. I step into the shadow of the doorway and hold my breath.

A man's voice comes through his phone speaker. "You really want to go against Raul Blackridge?"

Roan stayed silent, then let out a soft breath that sounded like a laugh. "No,"

There was a short pause.

He continues. "I want to know why Raul Blackridge wants her."

-

Two Days Later.

Roan's office is on the top floor of a glass tower in downtown LA.

Sunlight floods the hardwood floors. There are heavy drapes, no guards at the door and no dark wood panels.

Raul's world felt like a fortress. Roan's feels open, warm, almost normal.

And that makes me suspicious.

I sat across from him at his wide glass desk, my hands resting on my lap. I looked at him as he poured himself two cups of water from a crystal pitcher.

"You're too relaxed," I said, staring at him with suspicious eyes.

He laughs softly, setting a glass in front of me. "That's an interesting accusation,"

"Everyone I've met since Blackridge entered my life has been nervous," I say, keeping my voice flat. "Investors, lawyers, directors. They all look over their shoulders."

Roan sits back in his leather chair. "I'm not everyone."

Again. That confidence.

It irritates me. And somehow, it attracts me. Even as a wolf who knows how dangerous powerful are, seeing a man stand his ground without raising his voice does something to my chest.

Roan opens a thin leather folder on his desk and turns it toward me. "Let's talk terms."

He walks me through the proposal point by point. A fifteen million dollar investment. No controlling stake in my brand, I retain total creative control over the product lines. We both established an international expansion plan using his tech logistics. Full legal protection against any hostile buyouts from Blackridge Capital.

And finally, a specific clause at the bottom of page four: No interference with personal decisions.

I stared at the line, my index finger resting on the paper. "Personal decisions?"

Roan looks straight at me, his gaze unwavering. "I'm investing in your company, Eva. Not your life."

I didn't realize how badly I needed to hear that until he said it.

In black ridge, my bloodline and status meant my life belonged to the Alpha. In Raul's mind, my company is just an extension of me, and I am an asset he owns. Hearing a man separate my work from my body felt like air in a room where I'd been suffocating.

Before I can answer, my phone vibrates on the glass desk.

The screen lights up. An unlisted number, but I don't need a caller ID to know who it is.

I looked down at the text: You're meeting Roan Rhys.

My stomach twisted into a tight knot. My pulse spikes, a sudden heat flushing under my skin.

A second message pops up immediately beneath the first.: You should have told me.

I grab the phone, press the lock button and turn it face down on the desk.

Roan watches my hand, his hazel eyes narrowing slightly. "Problem?"

"No," I said instantly before I could stop myself.

"You're lying."

I look at him, my jaw tightening. "Excuse me?"

"You checked the door before you answered me," he says quietly. His tone isn't aggressive, but his eyes stay locked on mine. "Your shoulders went tight the second that screen lit up."

I stared at him, my throat dry.

He's observant. Very observant.

For a second, I expected him to demand to see the phone or lean over the table, use his size or push for an answer the way Raul always does.

Instead, Roan just sits back. He gives me space, waits for me to speak, makes no move to cross the line I've drawn.

That's different from Raul.

I hate that I notice the difference and I hated it more that a part of me liked it.

Raul makes me feel trapped, like a bird in a golden cage being watched through a lens. Roan doesn't do that. He makes me feel seen. And for a woman like me who was hiding a secret child in a human city, that is dangerous in its own way.

I pick up the pen resting beside the folder.

I flipped to the final page and signed my name on the line - the name I built here. Eva West.

"Welcome aboard, partner." Roan says, taking the folder back.

"Thank you, Roan." I said, standing up.

I grab my bag and leave the office. I took the private elevator down to the main lobby and stepped out through the heavy glass doors onto the busy LA street. The afternoon air is warm, carrying the faint smell of ocean salt and exhaust.

I took three steps onto the sidewalk, then stopped.

Parked directly across the street, sitting in a no parking zone beside a fire hydrant, is a dark sleek audi sedan. The windows are tinted pitch black.

My stomach drops.

The car doesn't seem like it belonged here. It carries the sharp, heavy presence of something dangerous. I looked at the driver's side window. But I saw nothing.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated in my hand.

I lift the screen with trembling fingers.

It was a text from an unknown number: Good choice, little bird.