Sold To The Beastly Alpha

OPPOSITE Stella Ferguson's father, a man sat, his back expanding fully into her sight. 

Coldness shot through her hands, and her eyes flickered. She took a deep breath, drinking air into her lungs, and began to approach the desk in the office. 

Her twitching eyes dropped low toward the man, and she felt herself swallow subconsciously. 

He was a well-built man, swathed in an expensive and very stylish black three-piece suit, very well complementing the half mask horizontally covering half of his face. 

She couldn't help but meet his eyes, even though it made her grit her teeth in unease. She wasn't exactly the type to pay attention to a person, but this man... Those deep whirlpool eyes and the half-dark mask that seemed to hide something beneath it...something not even the media knew about...

She knew him, everyone knew him. 

Valeric Jones was the first son of the Jones royal family and a man who, despite his reputation, stood at the top of the world. He was a man all over the media with all eyes on him, but not for a very good reason…

What was he doing at her father's manor? Why had he come? And why was her father staring at her with a bright smile? 

The man swept the edge of his eyes over her apathetically, and holding half of that gaze for a transient moment, Stella shuffled one leg after another, stepping back. 

"What are you doing?" Her father's voice made her jolt, and she looked at him, her jaw tightened. 

"D-dad." Her voice was shaky. 

Brown-haired with a few healthy grays in them, her father averted his gaze from her to the man. "This is my second daughter, Stella. What do you think of her?" 

"She is the only recessive omega in my family." 

"Stella…" It was a barely audible whisper before that deep voice that sent an instant thrum through the depths of Stella's body sounded again, "Good."

Her father, Mr. Ferguson, smiled widely. "I believe the deal can be sealed now. Fifty-fifty shares?" 

"Sixty Forty." 

Mr. Ferguson was going to disagree, but that same uneasiness, similar to what Stella was feeling, couldn't let him. He was a standard alpha—one that couldn't compare to the composed beast seated before him. 

He had to thread wisely. 

"Great! Sixty, forty then," he agreed and shifted his attention to Stella. "I'm sure you already know him. This is Mr. Valeric Jones. He has proposed to marry you." 

"What? W-what do you mean?" Stella's fingers tightened around the edges of her phone, and she stared around slowly. The cream-colored walls, marble floor, her father, the wrinkles on his suit, the vibrations of that masculine voice, that deep gaze—none of it was real. 

It was just a nightmare—nothing more than a bad dream. None of it was real, not her father's words. 

"Dad-" 

"It'll be best if you behave. You don't want to leave a bad impression on our guest, do you?" Mr. Ferguson smiled coldly at her, and if gaze could kill, she would have dropped dead on the floor. 

But Stella furiously shook her head. "What are you talking about? Do you want me out of the house? Is that it?" 

"I-I'll find a way," she said shakily with pleading blue eyes. "I'll move out and be out of your sight. But please, you can't marry me off. Not to him." 

Mr. Ferguson picked up a pen, and before her very eyes, he signed the contract, sealing the deal with the man. 

"Your marriage with him will happen tomorrow. He wants it quick and clean, and it will be a court one. So, leave and go prepare yourself." 

Stella's face was drained of all colors, and her hands started shaking. "But you don't have to do this. I'll do anything you want, just not this, please. I'm sure someone will definitely come for me, it doesn't have to be him. Dad, I beg you." 

"Just give me more time. A little more, and I'll-"

"What is the matter?" That deep and heart-disturbing voice grated into the chaos of her mind, causing her to stiffen immediately. 

Everything fell away. 

Cold sweats broke through her skin, and each pound of her heart thrummed through her ears. 

Mr. Valeric Jones detached from the chair, creaks cracking across the static space. 

Mr. Ferguson was dead silent, just watching. 

Stella's grip on her phone tightened, and she stumbled backward. "W-what?" 

Golden, cruel eyes glinted, a brow arched, and gloved hands shoved into the pocket of his pants. 

"Don't come close!" But her voice seemed so small, and her body finally hit against the wall. There was no more space to backup to. 

She threw herself to the right to run out of the office, but her hand was grabbed and her body was pushed right back against the wall. She thrashed against the force and tried to break free from the man, much bigger and taller than she was, holding her against the wall with merely a hand on her wrist.

"Let go of me!" 

His grip around her wrist tightened, and he leaned in until his face was just an inch away from hers. 

"Why are you so afraid?" His words came out hushed, so much so that only she could hear them. "Have we met before?" 

"Answer me."