Alpha Dax’s POV
"These need your signature," she said smoothly, a well-practiced fake smile on her lips.
My mother stood in the doorway holding a folder with blue papers sticking out. She walked in hesitantly.
I kept staring at a moth in the corner of my office.
"Dax, I'm talking to you."
The folder in her hand smelled faintly of her perfume.
"Not now," I said.
She smiled that thin smile that tried to be warm. "Dax. It's important. The council needs—"
"Not now," I said again.
She set the folder on the table and sat on the blue three-seater chair beside me. She folded her hands and glared at the side of my face.
"How long are you going to keep this up? You can't keep sulking like a three-year-old just because you can't get over your little toy. You're drinkin
