He peeled the entire plate of shrimp with practiced ease, then pushed the glistening red meat toward Aria.
After that, he slowly picked up the cleansing towel and meticulously wiped his fingertips.
It was the most intimate etiquette an Alpha could offer when tending to an Omega.
And it was something I had never once received.
Seeing this, my chest tightened—just slightly, but enough.
I had already decided to let him go.
But witnessing him treat another with such tenderness…
that kind of pain still surged up uncontrollably, sharp as frostbite.
Vito clearly noticed too.
He glanced at my expression, then at James, nudging him deliberately with a teasing smirk.
“Don’t just take care of one person. Peel some for your mate too.”
James seemed to suddenly remember something.
He lowered his head, looked at the empty plate before me, and said,
“Order another serving.”
“No need,” I said calmly, taking a sip of my drink. “I don’t like shrimp.”
“What about grilled fish?”
“I don’t like the smell.”
James stared at the table, his brows narrowing slightly.
“And the roast moon-chicken?”
“I don’t like that either.”
He froze—clearly not expecting me to refuse so bluntly.
I lifted my gaze and met his eyes, my voice smooth yet edged like a blade.
“Anything you recommend, I don’t like.”
“Blair, are you upset?”
Aria asked softly, her Omega presence timid and fragile.
“Why aren’t you eating what James ordered for you? Please don’t be angry at him.”
Her careful tone made me seem like a bully picking on the weak.
“How could I be angry?” I smiled faintly.
“Please enjoy the meal. I suddenly remembered there’s work I haven’t finished, so I’ll take my leave.”
Maintaining perfect politeness, I picked up my bag and prepared to stand.
“Oh come on,” Vito drawled, voice full of mockery.
“You’re not seriously mad about James setting off fireworks for Aria, right? Such a small thing?”
The moment he brought up that night, Aria immediately lowered her eyes and spoke softly:
“I’m sorry, Blair. I wasn’t feeling well that day… James only wanted to comfort me.
James, you should apologize to her.”
James frowned.
“I only lit a few fireworks. Why should I apologize?”
The moment the words fell, the air around the table froze completely.
And in the angle James couldn’t see,
Aria lifted the corner of her lips ever so slightly.
A small, delicate smile—
the kind of smile only an Omega shows when quietly claiming territory.
As if telling me without a sound:
This Alpha is mine.
How laughable.
Those who commit wrongdoing are often the last to understand their fault.
And just like the countless times before,
James still didn’t see the real issue.
He always believed that if he soothed me with a few empty words,
I would remain silent, patient, obedient—
the compliant mate I had pretended to be.
Instead, I let out a soft laugh and said gently:
“You’re right.
Those moon-flame fireworks really were beautiful.
Next time, don’t forget to make the display even grander.”
My tone was soft—
yet sharp as a silver blade.
Before anyone could react,
the restaurant manager entered carrying several bottles of rare Silvermoon Wine.
“These are the bottles you and Miss Aria stored with us during your last visit.
Shall I open them for you now?”
The entire private room fell utterly silent.
The manager stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do.
So I spared him the embarrassment.
“Open them all,” I said lightly.
“No need to waste anything.”
With those words, I rose and walked out of the room.
James quickly followed, a rare trace of unease in his voice—
something high-tier Alphas almost never revealed.
“Blair, the company sealed a major deal recently.
Those wines were meant for the celebration.”
I waved a hand dismissively, not caring in the slightest,
and walked into the women’s restroom.
When I returned to the private room,
James was shielding Aria from the alcohol.
His hand covered hers around the glass,
blocking the Silvermoon Wine with a natural, practiced motion—
as if he had done it countless times before.
And that scene…
was far too familiar.
Two years ago, at almost the exact same type of banquet—
I, severely allergic to alcohol,
was pressured and taunted by a circle of male werewolves taking turns pushing drinks on me.
And back then, James didn’t stop them.
He didn’t shield me.
Instead, he watched with half-lidded eyes,
wearing the cold indifference and impatience unique to high-ranking Alphas.
