One Too Many

TERESA'S POV

My head was spinning, a whirling mess of half-formed thoughts and champagne bubbles. I had let my problems lure me into one too many glasses of the effervescent stuff. It had seemed like a good idea—when wasn't drinking away your sorrows the most sensible course of action?—until the room started to blur around the edges. The grand chandeliers overhead turned into fuzzy halos, and the elegant string quartet's music became a distant hum. I could hear the murmurs of the wealthy guests around me, but their words floated through my mind like incomprehensible gibberish.

I glanced at the three stunning women sitting at my table. They were so poised, each draped in a gown that probably cost more than my monthly rent. Their perfectly coiffed hair and glittering jewelry made me feel like a drab pigeon among peacocks. I tried to focus on what they were saying, but my own voice drowned them out—slurred and rambling, a stream of words spilling from my numb lips without any sense or coherence.

"So, then I told my boss," I heard myself saying, my voice rising a little too loud, "I don't care if the copier's broken, I'm not—hic!—I'm not coming in on a Saturday!" My words were followed by a fit of laughter, my own, while the three women exchanged knowing glances and stifled giggles behind manicured hands.

"Who even is she?" the blonde whispered to the brunette, loud enough for me to hear.

"Apparently, she's Alpha Lucian's latest... charity case," the brunette replied with a smirk. "Honestly, look at those shoes. Did she buy them at a garage sale?"

They all laughed, and I tried to laugh with them, but it came out more like a snort. I swayed in my seat, my champagne flute tipping dangerously.

The redhead leaned in closer, her perfectly arched eyebrow raised. "What on earth possessed Alpha to bring her here? Did he lose a bet?"

"I bet he's just bored," the blonde said with a shrug. "He's always got that 'I can't be bothered with this' look. Maybe she's his entertainment for the night."

"Or maybe," the brunette cut in with a wicked smile, "he's using her as a social experiment. See how many people she can horrify before he has to step in."

Just as I was about to tell them what I thought about their perfect hair and their perfect dresses, a hush fell over the room. The double doors at the far end of the ballroom swung open, and Lucian strolled in. His presence was like a dark cloud rolling in over a sunny day. Tall and imposing, with his sharp suit and even sharper green eyes, he surveyed the room with an air of disinterest. His mouth was set in a line that spoke volumes—he was not impressed, not by the party, not by the people, and certainly not by me.

I tried to sit up straighter, but the champagne had done its job too well. My head lolled to the side, and for a moment, Lucian's gaze caught mine. He paused, his expression unreadable, then let out a heavy sigh as if my very existence was an inconvenience. I felt a sobering chill run down my spine.

"Alpha!" the blonde practically purred, standing up and rushing over to him. The brunette and the redhead weren't far behind. They encircled him like moths drawn to a flame, their voices overlapping in their eagerness to get his attention.

"She's been making a complete fool of herself," the brunette complained, gesturing towards me like I was some kind of exhibit.

"Seriously, Alpha, why did you bring her here?" the redhead added, batting her lashes. "This is supposed to be a classy event."

Lucian looked at them with mild irritation, as if swatting away buzzing flies. "Really?" he drawled, his voice laced with sarcasm. "I hadn't noticed. Perhaps because your incessant whining drowned out everything else."

The blonde, not one to be easily deterred, wrapped her arm around his. "Why don't you just leave her with your secretary? We can have a much better time without the… distraction."

Lucian's lips curled into a cold smile. "Tempting," he said, his voice dropping to a murmur that was more dangerous than a shout. "But unfortunately, I have a policy against abandoning my 'distractions.' Even ones as exasperating as this."

He pushed the blonde's arm away with the ease of brushing off a speck of dust and strode over to me. I tried to stand up, but my legs felt like jelly. Before I could make a fool of myself further by tripping over my own feet, Lucian's hand was on my arm, firm but not painful and God, the electric sparks from his touch were going wild. He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear in a way that sent an unwanted shiver down my spine.

"You've had your fun," he whispered, his voice low and almost amused. "But if you think I'm letting you get away with embarrassing me in front of these vultures, you're sorely mistaken. Consider this the calm before the storm, lady."

I swallowed hard, the champagne suddenly sour in my stomach. When he pulled back, his green eyes were glittering with something unreadable, a hint of amusement masked by cold control.

"Ladies," Lucian said, addressing the group with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, "I'm afraid our time together has come to an end. I have responsibilities to attend to."

"Can't you leave her with someone else?" the redhead whined. "Just this once?"

Lucian's expression hardened, the bored mask slipping to reveal irritation. "No," he said flatly. "If anyone is going to deal with the consequences of my actions, it will be me. I have a policy of handling my own… investments. Even when they're inconvenient."

With that, he turned and began walking away, a silent command for me to follow. I stumbled after him, mumbling something about not wanting to leave yet. He stopped in his tracks, his posture stiffening before he slowly turned to face me, his expression as cold as a winter morning.

Without warning, Lucian moved back toward me, scooped me up into his arms, and lifted me as if I weighed nothing more than a feather. Gasps rippled through the room. My own gasp mingled with theirs, my arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. I looked up at him, eyes wide, but he merely looked ahead, disinterested, like he was carrying a sack of potatoes rather than a person.

"Honestly, woman," he said, his voice edged with irritation, "how you managed to survive this long without someone carrying you everywhere is beyond me."

As he carried me out of the grand hall, I noticed the scent of his cologne—a mix of cedarwood and something dark, like smoke or leather. It was intoxicating, a sharp contrast to the sweet champagne lingering on my breath. I felt both safe and utterly vulnerable in his arms, a confusing combination of emotions swirling in my already muddled mind.

In the elevator, Lucian stood perfectly still, his expression unreadable, staring straight ahead as if the doors held the secrets of the universe. I shifted slightly in his arms, feeling self-conscious. "You know," I slurred, trying to sound defiant, "I can walk just fine."

He glanced down at me, one eyebrow raised. "Clearly," he said dryly. "But forgive me if I'd rather not take the risk of you crashing into the champagne tower on your way out."

When we finally reached the lobby, the two hefty guards stationed by the entrance looked stunned, their eyes widening at the sight of Lucian carrying a drunken me. One of them, a burly man with a buzz cut, stepped forward. "Alpha. Blackwood, sir, would you like assistance?"

Lucian shot him a look that could curdle milk. "If I wanted assistance, I would've asked for it," he said sharply. "Now, step aside."

Outside, the valet rushed to bring Lucian's sleek black car around. As the car purred to a stop, Lucian opened the passenger door and set me down in the seat, securing the seatbelt around me with precise, efficient movements. He closed the door with a finality that made my stomach drop.

Inside the car, silence wrapped around us like a suffocating blanket. I fumbled with my words, feeling the weight of his disapproval. "I-I'm really sorry, Mr. Lucian," I stammered. "I didn't mean to—hic!—embarrass you. I just..."

He didn't even look at me, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "Your apologies are unnecessary," he said coolly. "What's done is done. Now, enter your address into the GPS so I can rid myself of you."

I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the screen. "But... I mean, you don't even know me. Maybe I shouldn't—"

Lucian sighed, the sound filled with boredom and a hint of frustration. He turned to me, his eyes narrowed. "Listen carefully, uh... " he made a gesture with his hand, "Teresa," I reminded him.

"OK. Now listen here Teresa, I have no interest in your personal life, your thoughts, or your feelings. You are not special, and this isn't some grand romance. I merely intend to make sure you get home safely. After that, I plan to forget you exist. Unless," his voice dropped to a lower, more dangerous tone, "you give me a reason not to."

There was something in his eyes, a cold promise of consequences that made my blood run cold. I quickly entered my address into the GPS.

******

I woke up to the sound of a sharp ahem and a cold glare from Lucian that could have frozen a volcano. His face was set in its usual 'I'm-annoyed-with-everything' expression, which, if I'm being honest, was kind of his default setting.

"Finally awake, Sleeping Beauty?" he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Didn't think you could be any less helpful, but congratulations, you've managed to achieve new levels of uselessness."

I yawned and stretched, smacking my lips. "Nice to see you too. Your car is just so...cozy. Like a five-star nap zone."

He gave me a look that said I was about as welcome as a skunk at a garden party. "If I see a drool on my leather seats, I swear I'm sending you the cleaning bill."

I wiped the corner of my mouth out of reflex and smiled shyly. "Don't worry sir. I think your air freshener sucked up all the moisture. It smells like a pine tree exploded in here."

Lucian rolled his eyes and pulled up to the curb. My apartment building loomed ahead, a little worse for wear but still home. The neon sign of the 24-hour diner next door flickered, casting a pinkish glow on the sidewalk. Lucian looked at my building like it was made of old socks and regret.

"This is where you live?" he asked, one eyebrow raised so high it was practically trying to escape his face.

I nodded, smiling sweetly. "Yep. Charming, isn't it? We've got all the amenities—running water, mostly reliable elevators, and occasionally a neighbor who plays 'Free Bird' on repeat at 3 a.m."

He shuddered. "You're joking, right?"

"Nope. The elevator works most of the time, though I'd avoid it on Tuesdays."

Lucian just sighed, that heavy, world-weary kind of sigh he had perfected. "Get out of the car, Teresa."

I hesitated, my hand on the door handle; somehow I felt sad to leave him. "You're not even going to say goodnight? Not a 'see you later'? Just an 'exit my personal space immediately'?"

He looked at me like I was asking him to run a marathon in high heels. "Teresa, get out of the car before I change my mind and take you somewhere else."

I opened the door, still smiling. I don't know why those words didn't scare me like it was supposed to. "Fine, fine. Just trying to inject a little humanity into your night. Would it kill you to smile once in a while?" The kind of bravery gained from the expensive champagne was really mind-blowing.

He smirked, but it was more of a grimace. "It might. Now get out before I make good on my threat."

I stepped out of the car, closed the door, and watched as Lucian sped off, the tires screeching dramatically. He didn't even wave. Classic Lucian. I stood there for a moment, the night air cool against my skin, feeling a mix of amusement and confusion.

What the heck happened today? One minute I was crying after getting fired and the next I was dozing in a scary rich man's car, and the next, he was kicking me out like I was a bad houseguest. I shook my head and turned towards my building, muttering to myself, "What a peculiar guy. Maybe he's just allergic to happiness or something."

As I walked up the steps to my apartment, I couldn't help but chuckle. Lucian, in all his annoyed, overly dramatic glory, was somehow the most entertaining part of my day. And that was saying something.