Chapter 163

Arthur

“We need to talk.”

Without preamble, I take Veronica by the arm and lead her to the empty hallway behind the press room. The reporters are gone now, dispersed to write their undoubtedly scathing articles about Iris’s performance today.

The thought makes my jaw clench. Iris doesn’t deserve this. And after what Ezra just told me before the press conference, I don’t think she’s quite as innocent as she’s looking on.

Veronica’s eyebrows shoot up when I thrust the paperwork under her nose. “Can you explain this?” I ask.

She looks at me for a moment, then delicately takes the paper and studies it for several long moments. When she’s finished, she smiles coolly and hands it back to me. “I have no idea what this is.”

I snatch the paper back and narrow my eyes as I point at the numbers. “It says here your ‘operating costs’ for the Ordan Public School Fund went up fifteen percent this year. And you’re writing off expenses like artisanal coffee beans and expensive dinners at five-star restaurants.”

Veronica looks more amused than anything. “I fail to see the issue, Mr. President. The Fund works with many upper class socialites around the world. Treating both our staff and our potential donors is how we get such exorbitant donations—Iris’s gala, despite being a failure, is proof of that.”

“Forty percent of donations going to these expenses is still far more than necessary,” I bite out. “Furthermore, public schools—particularly those geared toward human children—are reporting fewer and fewer donations.”

Veronica stares at me for a moment, then laughs lightly. “Times are changing. There are more schools in Ordan now than ever due to rising populations. It’s not my fault that there’s not enough money to go around and that the upper echelons of our world—people like us—are becoming harder and harder to please.”

I don’t buy it. Not for a second. “Are you embezzling money to support your lavish lifestyle, Veronica? Is that what’s happening here?”

She scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous. I have more money than I could spend in three lifetimes. My music career has made sure of that.”

“Then what’s your angle? Why partner publicly with Iris if you’re just going to pull stunts like this behind her back?”

“Stunts?” Her eyes narrow dangerously. “Like what, exactly?”

“Like the earrings. Like conveniently disappearing when the protesters showed up. Like swooping in today to ‘save’ Iris, positioning yourself as the white savior when she was at a low point.”

Veronica’s perfect composure cracks slightly. “You think I—what? Orchestrated all of this? To what end?”

That’s the question, isn’t it? What would Veronica possibly gain from humiliating Iris? Is she still harboring resentment over my choice of Selina as my contract bride all those years ago? Is she trying to sabotage Iris’s reputation to position herself as a more suitable Luna?

“I don’t know yet,” I admit. “But I intend to find out.”

Veronica steps forward, her face inches from mine. “If that’s what you think, then you can call my lawyer right now. In fact, please do. I’d love to see you try to justify these wild accusations without a shred of concrete evidence.”

There’s fire in her eyes, and for a moment, I almost believe her. But I’ve been in politics too long, seen too many perfectly crafted facades hiding ugliness underneath. I’ve learned the hard way not to take things at face value.

I pull out my phone. “That can be arranged.”

And then it hits me. A scent so intoxicating that it makes my head spin. Something primal and familiar that calls to my wolf in a way I’ve only experienced once before.

With Iris.

My wolf surges forward, and my control slips. Before I can stop myself, I’m moving toward Veronica and pressing her against the wall, my arm braced above her head. I’m so close I can feel her breath on my face.

“Mate.”

Is Veronica my… mate?

But that’s impossible. Iris is my mate. I’ve known it since the moment we met, felt it in my bones, in my blood. A wolf can only have one true fated mate.

Can’t they?

Veronica doesn’t look afraid even though I, a man almost more than twice her size, am physically crowding her against a wall. Rather, her pupils dilate slightly, and her lips part in surprise. Does she feel it too, this pull between us?

With a tremendous effort, I manage to jerk back, forcing my wolf down. “What is this?” I demand roughly. “What are you doing to me?”

Veronica tilts her head, studying me. “I’m not doing anything, Arthur. But perhaps you’re finally sensing what I’ve known for a long time.”

“And what’s that?”

She smiles. “That’s a conversation for another time, I think. Right now, I believe you were about to call my lawyer?” She pulls a business card from her purse and slips it into my jacket pocket. Her fingers linger on my chest for a moment, then she pats it and pulls away. “Do call if you have any more… concerns.”

With that, she slides past me and walks down the hallway, hips swaying. Even now, with this distance between us, my wolf is pushing beneath the surface of my skin.

I realize, with startling clarity, that this isn’t the first time I’ve felt this way. The children’s day in the park—when Miles ran to her. I smelled it then, too, this tantalizing scent. So did Miles, so much so that he mistook her for his own mother. As if she and Iris share a scent—the distinctive scent that should only belong to my mate.

My one mate.

At the time, I chalked it up to perfume. Veronica did, too, or so she said. She claimed she was wearing the same brand that Iris usually wears.

Was she lying then? Did she know what was happening?

Did she know that somehow, against all laws of nature, that the Moon Goddess had given me two fated mates instead of one?

No. I need to see Iris. I need to hold her. This is ridiculous. I can’t have two mates. Unless Iris were dead and I somehow became one of the lucky few who was gifted a second chance mate, this should be impossible.

I stride down the hallway toward the dressing room where she went to collect herself after the press conference. But the room is empty. Iris’s purse is gone, and so is her jacket. The only sign she was ever here is a crumpled tissue on the vanity.

Frowning, I pull out my phone and call her, but it goes right to voicemail. Odd; I wonder if she got so upset about the press conference that she went home. But that’s out of character for her. She hasn’t walked out without a word since…

Since five years ago.

When she thought I betrayed her for Selina.

I’m just about to run out the door when Ezra stops me. His eyes are wide. “Where’s Iris?” I command.

Wordlessly, he holds out his phone to show me a photograph, and I let out a string of vile curses that makes even him flinch. The picture is of me and Veronica, taken mere minutes ago, already posted to one of the biggest fucking news sites in Ordan. It looks like we’re kissing from that angle.

“Alpha—” Ezra begins, but I’m already pushing past him.

I need to find Iris. I need to explain. I need to tell her everything before she leaves me again—and for good this time.