The Alpha CEO’s Unloved Wife

The Unwanted Wife 

The jazz singer swayed and crooned into the microphone. She had a nice voice Jane decided, but no one was I listening, they were too busy trying to

be noticed and heard. Unlike herself. If it were possible to melt away into the shadows, she would be doing it. Instead, she had found an out of the way corner and just hoped to pass the night unnoticed.

The night club’s lights flashed off the jewellery on the women, and the sparkles in their clinging dresses.

She had dressed wrong, again, she thought miserably, though that was at least partly Baron’s fault. If he had deigned to tell her where they were going, she would have known that it was a place for slinky, sexy dresses rather than her pretty white lace dress. But then, she thought, if she had known that they were going to the opening of his new club, she would have told him she had a headache, and he probably knew that, and therefore hadn’t given her the opportunity to avoid going.

She might be an unwanted wife, but she was still a Corbyn, and that connection was worth the inconvenience of her to Baron. It made sense to show off that connection on such an important night.

The Westerns and the Corbyns had long been rival packs, but the Corbyns had grown in strength where the Westerns had weakened, and when Baron’s grandfather had been murdered, the Westerns had lost their position and much of their wealth, and their pack had been absorbed into other, stronger packs.

Until Baron had come, seemingly from nowhere, with a strong alpha’s ruthlessness, and had built his business from the ground up, gradually gaining power and position until he had approached Jane’s father, Matthew Corbyn, wanting to marry and take as mate Jane’s older, prettier sister, Alice, in order to cement his place in Corbyn’s pack.

Matthew, instead, had offered Jane. A take it or leave it situation. Baron had taken it, and her. Reluctantly.

every bit the alpha wolf, incredibly handsome in his tailored suit, his white teeth flashing in a charming smile, and the nightclub lights picking up the night-reflection in his eyes. The most handsome man in the room, any woman would exchange places with her in a moment, she thought, and they would be welcome to her

panties feeling damp and irritating. She shifted uncomfortably, feeling tense and turned on. She wondered how long the party would go on for as there was nothing she wanted more than to go home and have

hardened, his mouth tightened, when he saw her. He gave a slight jerk of his head to indicate that she should be at his side, and she sighed and began to ease her way out of her corner and through the press of

so clumsy!” Angelique Devan exclaimed loudly as she

she stood with the red wine stain slowly spreading through the white lace of her entirely too innocent and covered up dress for the venue, feeling it puddle into her shoes. Angelique was, none too discretely, Baron’s mistress, and was probably the only person alive who loathed Jane more than her

put some soda water on that,” Angelique smirked. “Before

had any chance of getting rid of that

need to look at Baron’s face to know that she had humiliated him. Again. “Don’t just stand there,” his fingers closed around her upper arm, and he propelled her through the crowd to the back-area where only the staff and

closing behind them, and the lighting was dim, just illuminating the treads of the stairs. Unlike the main club, this area was very functional and unglamourous, concrete painted black. Her high heels on the cement were loud and frantic as she needed to take several steps for every one of his long-legged strides and it was only when she almost slipped off a step that

the furniture expensive. There was a textured wallpaper on the walls. He released her arm, and she resisted

and do something about that.” He sighed heavily and braced a hand on the solid wood office desk, his shoulders tense and

off. There was no point to trying to wash the wine out whilst she was wearing it. She kicked off her shoes and ran water in the sink. The bathroom was very masculine she noted, dark grey tiles, and a dark wood cabinet. In the mirror over the sink, she was ghostly pale, washed out by the bright light and the shock of having most of a glass of red wine poured over her, her dark

as much of the wine as possible without getting the dress too wet to wear. Hot tears of shame ran down her cheeks as

voice, and Baron’s answer.

was unnecessary and cruel,” Baron reprimanded. “You spilled your