and yet.
768 Words
IGNAZIO
There was something about Izabella Visconte.
There was never a thing about anyone that beckoned me to give them a second thought.
A second glance.
A moment of repeated consideration.
Yet…
There was something about Izabella Visconte that had me doing all those things. Constantly. Repeatedly.
She was my assistant.
And yet, she was also a human girl who happened to fall pregnant with my child.
Unheard of. It was absolutely unheard of. Not just because she was human, but because Izabella wasn’t my mate.
A breed like mine––a werewolf with alpha blood running in their veins—would never have it so easy.
We couldn’t have pups unless we bedded our mates.
That was how it worked.
That was how it always worked.
And yet.
My activities with the fertility clinic were simply for the sake of it. It made my job easier. It made finding my mate easier.
And… yet again, I was led right back to the fact that there was something about Izabella Visconte.
She had worked as my assistant for four years.
And now, she was days away from becoming my wife.
My hand curled into a fist over my knee. First, I hired her because… there was just something about her.
Did I need a personal assistant? Of course not.
Did I need or pride myself on hiring girls fresh out of college into my generational enterprise? No.
But did I throw all those considerations out the window when Izabella applied for any available desk role?
I looked at her résumé, acknowledged the fact she was human, and wondered why my secretary had even let the file reach my table. But then, I took one look at her face… and I couldn’t turn her away.
But she wasn’t my mate.
I would know. Any wolf would know. It wasn’t a thought or a fleeting guess. That wasn’t how mate bonds worked.
The moment I met her, the very need to become one with her would have swallowed me whole.
But it wasn’t like that.
She was a woman, a beautiful woman, and there might have been an attraction. But nothing further.
Nothing… enough to make me conclude that any of this made any sense.
She wasn’t my mate, and yet, she was pregnant three weeks ago.
She wasn’t even a werewolf, yet she was able to have my offspring?
Did the rules only apply to werewolf partnerships? Were they different in the case of a human partner?
But that still didn’t clear up the fact that I felt no mate bond for her.
My jaw clenched, and frustration built again.
My brain wouldn’t let me rest because a certain worry plagued me.
Did I convince Iza to marry me for the sake of the heir alone? Or did I have other intentions?
I didn’t believe I had other intentions.
When my father died, he made one request on that deathbed. Just one thing he wanted me to give him.
An heir to everything we had worked hard for. A successor to the Narducci Empire.
An alpha for our home.
I wanted to honor it. To grant him his final desire.
I had been making donations, both... medical and financial, to a government-owned clinic to make it easier, but I knew the odds would be slim.
No werefemale would even bother with a fertility clinic. And successfully impregnating a human was not possible.
And. Yet.
One could call it a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Or fate. But still, I could have let it go.
I could have kept searching for someone else after the accident.
She said no once.
Twice.
And then I offered to pay her way through life and be her husband by way of a bargain.
And… no part of me regretted it.
Not yet.
We were both doing each other favors.
So why did it feel like my victory was… infinite?
I would get an heir, which was what I wanted. And then she could call it off.
My eyes narrowed.
Would she call it off?
How long would she be willing to tolerate me after she gave birth?
I let the dark intentions suddenly curling around me fade away into nothing. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity I wasn’t letting go to waste.
That was the only reason I pursued this.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
I stood up, ready to leave my office. And I cracked my knuckles as the unfamiliar emotion swelled in my chest once again.
Nothing about the emotion was negative as I thought––
Izabella Visconte, was going to be my wife.
- Writer
