Married To The Billionaire Alpha King Chapter 18 - care about you

18

~Darlon’s POV

The evening air in the lounge was warm and quiet, the kind of quiet that humd in my chest. The curtains were half-drawn, and the sunset spilled through the window like lted gold, brushing over the wine glasses on the table. I had been sitting there for the past thirty minutes, pretending that the view mattered more than the woman sitting a few feet away from .

But it was useless.

Elara was impossible not to look at.

She sat on the couch across from , her back half-slouched, her cheeks flushed from the wine. Her hair fell around her face like soft threads of night. The red on her lips matched the drink in her hand, and when she lifted the glass, the light caught on her skin. There was sothing about her, maybe it was the way she tried to stay small, to shrink into herself like she didn’t deserve space, that twisted sothing deep inside .

I dragged my gaze back to the window. The sun was almost gone now, a pale orange bleeding into the sky. I told myself to focus on that, but my thoughts were stubborn. They crawled back to her every damn ti.

Her laugh broke the silence, quiet, nervous, like she was laughing at her own thoughts. She was talking to herself, mumbling words I couldn’t quite catch, and I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.

She was drunk. That much was obvious. And still, she looked heartbreakingly beautiful.

I cleared my throat and said softly, "You should slow down, Elara."

Her head lifted lazily. Her eyes, glossy from the wine, found . "You’re not drinking, Darlon," she mumbled, her voice slurred but gentle.

I let out a low chuckle. "Soone has to stay sober. You’d trip over your own feet if I joined you."

"I’m not that bad," she said, her words dragging a little. She tried to sit upright but ended up leaning to one side. "Okay, maybe I am. But the wine’s good."

Her face was so open, so unguarded in that mont, that I had to look away again. My chest felt tight, not badly, but like sothing was pressing inside, aching to be let out.

I had kissed her once before. I scared her that night. I didn’t an to. I was just overwheld... by everything she was.

And now, watching her again, I realized I wanted to do the sa.

She shifted in her seat, tugging at the neckline of her dress. The material stretched over her curves, and my throat went dry. I forced myself to breathe, to focus on the sound of the clock ticking on the wall.

But my eyes betrayed .

The dress she was wearing was stunning, but clearly not her size. The sleeves bit into her arms, and the neckline sat too high, pressing against her collarbone. I noticed her trying to pull it away from her chest, her movents clumsy, frustrated.

I got up and walked toward her before I even thought about it. The sound of my footsteps made her glance up.

"You okay?" I asked quietly.

Her eyes were half-closed, her words lazy but heavy with emotion. "No," she whispered. "It’s... too tight. I can’t breathe..."

Her voice cracked on the last word. It wasn’t sharp or angry, just fragile, almost like she was on the edge of crying.

I crouched in front of her. "Hey, hey, don’t cry," I said softly, my tone slipping into that rare gentleness I only ever used for her. "It’s just a dress. We’ll fix it, alright?"

She blinked slowly, nodded a little, and then her eyes fluttered closed. Her breathing slowed, steady and quiet. She had fallen asleep just like that, mid-complaint, half-drunk, half-broken.

I stared at her for a mont, stunned. Then I let out a quiet laugh. "You’re unbelievable," I whispered.

Her lashes rested against her cheeks, her lips slightly parted. She looked peaceful. I brushed a strand of hair from her face, my fingers lingering longer than they should have.

"You look so damn cute like this," I murmured. "I swear, you’re going to kill one day."

The room slled of wine and lavender, and I could hear the soft hum of the refrigerator sowhere down the hall. I glanced at her dress again, frowning. She really couldn’t be comfortable in that. I hesitated for a long second before carefully reaching for the back of her dress. There was a zipper there, thank goddess. I lowered it just a little, enough to ease the pressure around her chest.

She sighed, the sound small and content, and leaned slightly to one side. I caught her before she fell, easing her down until her head rested on the couch.

I sat beside her, still watching her face, still fighting that ache in my chest. I wanted to hold her. I wanted her to wake up in my arms. But I was terrified of crossing a line again.

Instead, I pulled out my phone and called David.

He picked up on the second ring. "Alpha..."

"Why," I cut in, my voice low but sharp, "did you send the wrong sizes for my wife’s clothes?"

There was a pause. "Sire?"

"The dress," I snapped. "She could barely breathe in it."

"Oh... uh... sir, that must’ve been the store’s mistake...."

"Find out if it was," I said flatly. "And if it was, fire whoever handled the order."

David started to stamr sothing, but I hung up before he could finish. My hand tightened around the phone. I took a slow breath, then another, forcing the anger to drain away.

When I looked back at her, everything inside softened again.

She was curled up now, her hand resting against her cheek. There was a faint smile on her lips, like she was dreaming sothing sweet. I moved closer, gently lifting her head and placing it on my lap. Her hair spilled over my thigh like silk. I stroked it absentmindedly, the warmth of her skin seeping into mine.

"You’re still the sa," I whispered.

She shifted slightly, and I froze, but she didn’t wake. I traced the edge of her jaw with my thumb, morizing every line, every soft curve. My heart beat faster just watching her.

Minutes passed, maybe longer. The sunset had faded completely now, replaced by the faint silver of moonlight streaming through the curtains. The whole room felt hushed, like it was holding its breath with .

Then she stirred.

Her lashes fluttered, and those sleepy eyes t mine. For a heartbeat, neither of us moved.

Then she blinked, squinting as though trying to make sense of where she was. Then she sat up slowly, a soft sound escaping her lips, half a sigh, half a groan.

Her hair was a ss now, falling into her face. Her dress hung a little loose where I’d unzipped it, and she rubbed her temple as though her head were spinning.

"Darlon," she whispered, her voice barely holding itself together.

"I’m sorry, Elara," I whispered, and gently pressed my lips against hers. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t heated. It was soft, careful, the kind of kiss that said everything I couldn’t put into words.

Her lashes fluttered as she stirred slightly, and I could feel the faint warmth of her breath against my face. I held her gently, careful not to startle her. "I just... I can’t help how much I care about you," I murmured against her lips, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes.