Married To The Billionaire Alpha King Chapter 43 - are you okay

43

~Elara’s POV

The discussion about the designs started almost imdiately. Lira and Ronan pulled out the folders, flipping through pages, pointing out seams, colors, and fabrics. Darlon sat back, watching quietly, while I remained still, holding my own notebook and pen.

As they talked, I realized the designs they were presenting were... substandard. Not even close to what I would consider professional or modern. I didn’t say anything at first, just listened, letting the room fill with their chatter. I stayed quiet, my mind racing with ideas, sketches, and corrections.

At one point, I got up. "Would anyone like sothing to drink?" I asked softly.

Darlon looked at , his eyes warm and approving. "My wife, always thinking of others," he said, giving a small smile. He caught the attention of Lira and Ronan with that one word, and I felt my heart flutter, the way he said it, like it wasn’t just a title, it was real.

I poured water, arranged glasses, and handed them out carefully. Darlon took his glass, gave a nod. "Thank you, my wife," he said again, and I almost lted right there.

Then he leaned back, tilting his head toward . "What do you think about these designs?"

I hesitated, unsure. "Can I... speak my mind?" I asked quietly.

"Of course," he replied, his voice soft but steady. "Tell what you really think."

I cleared my throat, gripping my notebook tighter. "Honestly... these designs," I began, glancing down at the sketches laid out on the table, "they’re... not that great." My words felt heavier as I continued, "The cuts aren’t clean, so fabrics don’t match the intended style, and a few patterns feel outdated."

Darlon’s eyes stayed locked on mine, encouraging without saying a word. "Go on," he murmured.

I hesitated for a second, then added, "I think I can make so sketches that might improve them, if you want."

He smiled, that confident, proud smile that made my heart flutter. "I want that. Show ."

I quickly grabbed my sketchpad and began redrawing, my hands moving faster as ideas flowed. When I finished, I handed the sketches to him, trying not to fidget.

He leaned over, studying each line, each detail. His smile widened with every page he turned. "These... these are incredible," he said, looking up at . "My wife is brilliant."

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I couldn’t et his eyes for a second. I murmured a quiet "thank you," unsure what else to say.

Darlon didn’t stop there. He turned toward Lira and Ronan, his expression suddenly firm. "My wife will be part of the design team. I expect you both to accord her the sa respect you give ."

Lira froze, her eyes snapping to , her jaw tightening. Ronan blinked a few tis, looking like he’d swallowed a lemon. After a mont, both of them bowed slightly, murmuring, "Yes, Alpha Darlon."

Darlon straightened his jacket, giving a small nod. "The eting is over. Let’s go."

I followed him toward the door, still clutching my sketchpad. Just as we reached it, I heard Ronan’s voice, hesitant but insistent. "Elara... can we talk for a few minutes?"

Darlon stopped instantly, turning on him like a hawk. His jaw tightened, and I felt the intensity of his glare even from a few feet away. "Talk to my wife behind my back?" His voice was low, dangerous. "Do you have any idea how disrespectful that is?"

His face darkened, jaw clenched, and I could hear the growl in his voice. "How dare you want to talk to my wife behind ? Do you want to get yourself killed?"

Ronan’s face went pale. "I...I just wanted to discuss sothing for business, nothing more, I swear!"

I placed a hand on Darlon’s arm. "It’s fine, Darlon. It’s just about work," I said softly, trying to calm him.

He gave a sharp glance, then softened slightly. "Are you really okay with this?" he asked quietly, his voice low, careful, like he was testing the waters.

I nodded, trying to steady the quick beating of my heart. "Yes. I’ll be fine," I murmured, forcing myself to et his eyes for a brief second before looking down at my hands.

He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against my forehead. The touch was light, gentle, and electric all at once. My chest went numb, my thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm, and for a mont I forgot where I was, what I was doing, everything except the warmth of him and the strange safety it brought. Then he straightened, his expression shifting back to that calm, commanding presence, and without another word, he turned and left the room.

The mont he was gone, I exhaled, relief washing over like a wave breaking at the shore. I leaned back slightly, letting my shoulders drop for the first ti in what felt like hours. But there was no ti to linger in that relief. I could feel eyes on , waiting, judging, and I forced myself to focus again.

Ronan shifted awkwardly across the room, his hands fidgeting with the edge of a folder. "So... what did you want to discuss?" I asked gently, keeping my voice even.

Before he could answer, a sudden movent drew my attention. Lira stord toward , her face flushed, her eyes sharp like knives. "Elara! Leave my man alone! Or I won’t hesitate to fight you!"

I opened my mouth, wanting to respond, to say sothing, anything that would diffuse the situation, but she didn’t give the chance. Her words hung in the air like a storm cloud, then she spun on her heel and left, the sharp echo of her heels on the floor leaving a ringing tension in the room.

I blinked, stunned, and let out a quiet breath. My chest was still tight, my heart hamring from the confrontation, and I had to remind myself that I hadn’t done anything wrong. Not really.

Ronan shifted again, this ti closer, his expression uncertain. "Elara... are you...are you okay?" His voice was soft, hesitant, almost gentle, and I could hear the worry there.

I cleared my throat, straightening in my chair, and let my voice carry the firmness I wanted to feel. "If it’s not about work, I need to get back to my tasks." There was no anger, no malice, just steady resolve, though my hands still trembled slightly against the notebook.

He hesitated, staring at for what felt like an eternity, like he was trying to read my mind, my heart, my intentions. Finally, he nodded, his shoulders slumping just slightly, a quiet acknowledgnt. "I’ll text you, then," he said softly, his tone carrying a mix of frustration and resignation. Then he turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

I finally let myself breathe, deep and slow. The sudden quiet felt heavy, but it was a calm kind of heavy, the type that makes your muscles relax, and your mind start to clear. Alone in the room, I sank back into my chair, my fingers brushing lightly over the edges of my notebook.

The pages stared back at , a jumble of designs, sketches, and notes. But my mind was elsewhere, spinning through the events of the day.