Fated to the Alpha I Shouldn't Trust

Harper's POV

"This bookstore has been here for fifty years!" My voice bounces off the walls of the town council chamber. "My grandmother built it from the ground up! You can't just tear it down!"

The council members glance at each other, but nobody's looking at me. They're all staring at something else.

I follow their gaze and turn around.

There's a man sitting in the back, suit perfectly tailored, posture relaxed like he's watching a boring movie. He's maybe twenty-seven, twenty-eight, with sharp features and dark hair slicked back without a strand out of place. Even from ten rows away, I can feel this coldness radiating off him.

Who the hell is he? And why are they all looking at him?

"Ms. Quinn," the chairman clears his throat, "we understand how you feel, but urban development requires—"

"Requires what?" I cut him off. "Turning a community landmark into another cookie-cutter shopping plaza?"

My folder slips from my hands in my frustration, and photos scatter across the floor. I drop to my knees, frantically shoving Grandma's old pictures and the store's historical documents back into the folder.

A hand appears in my line of vision, holding out some photos.

I look up. The man from the back is standing right in front of me.

Up close, he's younger than I thought. And more... well, good-looking. Those amber eyes are fixed on one of the photos in my hand—the one from five years ago, me handing an umbrella to some stranger outside my college campus. My roommate took it, said she wanted to document my "rare act of kindness."

He stares at that photo for a few seconds, something flickering across his face.

"Thanks," I mumble, taking the pictures from him and scrambling to my feet.

He doesn't say anything. Just gives me this long look before turning and walking out of the chamber.

The council votes to approve the demolition anyway.

I stand there in the empty hall, clutching my folder, feeling like my whole world is crumbling.

The sky's already darkening when I step outside.

"Ms. Quinn."

I spin around. It's him again.

"I can help you save the bookstore." Straight to the point.

I take a step back. "How? Who even are you?"

"I can talk to them, make them reconsider." He pulls out a document from inside his suit jacket. "But I need you to do me a favor."

I take the papers. The cover says "Contractual Agreement."

"Be my girlfriend for six months." His expression doesn't change at all, like he's discussing the weather. "Fake, of course. I need to deal with my family pressuring me about marriage. You need an 'investor' with influence to back you up. Win-win."

I freeze. I must have heard him wrong. "What?"

"Your bookstore's location is important, but not irreplaceable. The developer's owner is an acquaintance of mine. I can convince him to adjust the design, keep your store. As long as you cooperate with this arrangement."

"Why me?" This is absolutely insane.

"Convenient," he says, completely deadpan.

Convenient? What kind of reason is that?

I'm about to throw the papers back at him when Maggie, my employee, suddenly pops out from behind a pillar—she's been eavesdropping this whole time.

"Girl!" She grabs my arm, sixty years old and still moving that fast. "Say yes! Look at this man, obviously loaded! And he's not bad-looking either!"

"Maggie!" My face burns.

The man's mouth twitches, but the cold mask slides back into place almost immediately.

"Think about it." He hands me a business card. "Give me an answer by tomorrow. Kai Thornton."

He turns and walks away, getting into a sleek black car.

"This guy's definitely insane," I mutter, shoving the card into my pocket.

But that night, sitting in my soon-to-be-demolished bookstore, running my fingers over the wooden shelves Grandma left behind, I know I don't have a choice.

The next afternoon, I show up at Kai's office.

"I have conditions." I push the signed contract across his desk, trying to look tough. "No sleepovers, nothing beyond holding hands. This is just an act."

Kai glances at the contract and nods. "Fine."

His tone is too calm. It pisses me off a little.

"So... when do we start?"

"Tonight." He stands up. "There's a business dinner. You're coming with me."

"What? Tonight?! I'm not ready—"

"Someone will handle it." He presses the intercom. "Marcus, get a stylist to take Ms. Quinn to the styling room."

An hour later, I'm wearing a dress I could never afford in my lifetime, sitting in Kai's car.

The navy silk makes my skin look pale. My palms are sweating from nerves.

"When we see people, you just smile and hold onto my arm," Kai says while driving, eyes on the road. "You don't need to say much."

"I'm not a trophy," I snap.

"I know." For once, he glances at me. "But my business partners are... traditional."

The car pulls up in front of a five-star hotel downtown.

Kai gets out, walks around to my side, opens the door, and extends his hand.

I hesitate for a second, then put my hand in his.

Warm. Strong.

In the elevator, I nervously smooth out my dress.

"Relax," Kai says suddenly.

"I am relaxed."

"Your breathing is rapid."

"..."

How is this guy so annoying?

The elevator doors open. Music and laughter pour in.

I take a deep breath.

Alright, Harper Quinn.

Whatever happens, no backing out now!