Claimed by My Bestie's Alpha Daddy novel Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Amelia

I stared at the black car as it pulled up, expecting the Beta or one of the King’s staff to step out. But the driver’s

door opened-and it was Richard.

“You didn’t send someone?” I asked, surprised.

He stepped around the car and took one of the heavier bags off my shoulder. “It’s late. Nathan and the driver

are off duty.”

I glanced down at my pile of bags and duffels. His eyes followed mine, pausing for a beat longer than usual. One brow ticked upward-surprise, maybe even concern.

It was a lot of stuff. More than someone would bring for a quick overnight stay. I could almost see the thought

forming in his head: this wasn’t just temporary. Maybe things with my mate really were over.

“I can find a motel,” I added quickly. “Somewhere near the pack house. I’ll be working there anyway.”

He didn’t look thrilled. “You’re not staying in some roadside motel.”

“It might still be nicer than my apartment,” I shot back, half-smiling.

He didn’t look thrilled. “There’s a hotel near the central plaza. Good security, clean, walking distance to the

pack house. I’ll make the call.”

I hesitated. “Richard… I can’t afford that.”

“I wasn’t asking you to pay.”

“That’s exactly the problem.” I gave him a small smile, trying not to let the embarrassment show. “I appreciate

it, but I can’t take that kind of help from you.”

He exhaled through his nose, quiet and resigned. “Fine. The office lounge is empty tonight. It locks, it’s quiet.

You’ll be safe there.”

He drove me straight to the top floor of the headquarters building and showed me into the private lounge

adjacent to his office. Clean, minimal, with a plush couch, a few chairs, and dimmable lighting. Quiet luxury.

Safe. I murmured thanks as he handed me the keycard.

1/3

Chapter 18

20 BUMUS

“Get some rest,” he said, but didn’t leave immediately. He lingered for a beat, as if debating something. Then

he left.

I set my things down carefully and pulled out my laptop. I still had a proposal to revise. The pen he gave me lay beside the keyboard, its weight grounding me.

But I didn’t get far before the smell of roasted lamb made me freeze mid-sentence.

I looked up. Richard was back, this time with a tray-plates, silverware, real food still warm and fragrant. He placed it gently on the coffee table like it was something fragile. The smell of roasted lamb wrapped around me instantly, and so did the sense of his presence-calm, steady, and impossibly reassuring.

“You didn’t leave?”

“I figured you hadn’t eaten.”

“You figured right,” I muttered, sitting back and wiping a hand across my face.

He sat across from me. Not too close, but not far enough to ignore.

“You’re still reusing the same intro from your earlier draft,” he said, nodding at the screen.

I stiffened. “It works.”

“It worked before,” he countered. “But now it’s your second time presenting. You can’t play it safe.’

I stared at him. “Do I really look that gullible to you?”

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