The Alpha Behind The Mask-Chapter 71: A Man’s scent On Me

Aurora’s POV

​I stared at the screen, my blood boiling. The sheer arrogance of this man was staggering. I had literally thrown the word resignation in his face, and here he was, acting like I was still at his beck and call.

​"Is he for real?" I muttered, throwing my phone onto the mattress.

​The soreness between my thighs reminded me of Raymond—of the ice and the heat, and the cruel way he had left me. My heart was a tangled mess. I was falling for a masked killer while being hunted by a narcissistic King.

​My phone buzzed again. Another message.

​"55 minutes, Aurora. Don’t make my driver come inside."

​I groaned, burying my face in my hands. I wanted to stay in bed. I wanted to hide from the world. But I knew Oliver. If he said he would have me dragged out in my pajamas, he meant it. He didn’t care about "no." He didn’t care about boundaries. He was the Alpha King, and the world was his playground.

​I looked around my small, messy apartment. If I didn’t go, he would keep hounding me. Maybe if I went on this trip, I could use the time to finally force him to sign my release papers. Or maybe... maybe I just wanted one last glimpse of those blue eyes, even if they belonged to a "prick."

​With a sigh of pure defeat, I dragged myself out of bed. My legs felt weak, a lingering ghost of Raymond’s touch making me shiver. I rushed to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face to wake up. I had to look professional. I had to look like a woman who wasn’t currently being torn apart by two different versions of the same desire.

​I bathed and packed a small suitcase with trembling hands—a few professional dresses, some casual clothes, and a coat for the Parisian chill. As I zipped it shut, I caught my reflection in the mirror. My lips were still a bit swollen. My neck had a faint, pink mark where Raymond had lingered.

​How am I going to hide this from him? I wondered, pulling a scarf tight around my neck. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

​I checked the time. Five minutes left.

​I took a deep breath, grabbed my bag, and headed for the door. As I stepped out onto the sidewalk, a sleek, black luxury sedan was idling right at the curb. The tinted window rolled down just an inch, and the driver nodded at me.

​"Good morning, Ms. Aurora. The King is waiting."

​I climbed into the back of the sleek sedan, the door closing with a heavy, expensive thud that seemed to seal my fate. I sat as stiffly as I could, every bump in the road sending a fresh jolt of soreness through my hips—a constant, physical reminder of Raymond’s "punishment."

​The driver didn’t speak a word. He drove with a silent, robotic efficiency through the city and toward the outskirts, eventually pulling through a private gate at the back of the Packhouse grounds.

​There, sitting on the tarmac, was a massive private jet. Its silver body gleamed under the morning sun, looking like a predatory bird waiting for its prey. My stomach did a nervous flip. This wasn’t just a business trip; this was a three-day confinement with the man I was trying to escape.

​I swallowed hard, clutching the handle of my small suitcase. I stepped out of the car and climbed the stairs.

​When I stepped into the cabin, the luxury was overwhelming, but my eyes went straight to the man seated in the back.

​Alpha Oliver was lounging casually in a cream-colored leather seat, a tablet in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He looked perfectly composed, like he hadn’t spent the previous afternoon breaking down a bathroom wall in a fit of rage.

​He didn’t look up immediately, his eyes scanning a document. "You decided not to put up a fight," he noted, his voice smooth and commanding. "I see you decided to be sensible, Aurora."

​I stood there, my breath hitching as I looked at him. From this distance, his broad shoulders and the way he held his head were a mirror image of the man who had blindfolded me hours ago.

​"I’m not being sensible," I snapped, my voice trembling despite my effort to stay calm. "I’m being coerced. I told you, Oliver, I resigned."

​He finally looked up. His piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, and for a split second, I felt that same electric spark that Raymond’s touch had ignited. He didn’t look like he was listening to a word about my resignation. Instead, his gaze traveled slowly down my body, lingering on the way I stood, before settling on the silk scarf I had wrapped tightly around my neck to hide Raymond’s marks.

​"Sit down, Aurora," he said softly, his eyes narrowing as they stayed on my throat. "The plane is departing. And we have a very long flight to discuss exactly why you think you’re in a position to leave me."

​I went to sit in the row furthest away from him, desperate for any kind of distance, but his voice cut through the cabin before my bag even hit the floor.

​"Sit across from me, Aurora. I don’t like repeating myself."

​I frowned, my jaw tightening, but I settled into the plush leather seat directly in front of his. The jet began to taxi, the powerful hum of the engines vibrating through the floor and right up into my sore muscles. As we took off, the pressure of the ascent pushed me back into the seat, and I couldn’t help but stare around the cabin. It was beautiful—all gold accents and polished wood—but my wonder was cut short by the heavy silence coming from the man in front of me.

​I could feel his piercing gaze on me. When I finally gathered the courage to look at him, I realized his blue eyes weren’t on my face. They were fixed intently on the silk scarf wrapped around my neck.

​"Why is that scarf on you?" he asked, his voice low and full of curiosity. "You don’t wear it, Aurora."

​"I was feeling a bit cold," I lied, my hand instinctively flying to my throat to check the knot. "It’s none of your business what I wear."

​I tried to look out the window, to ignore him, but before I could even blink, Oliver moved. He leaned forward with a speed that shouldn’t have been possible for a man his size. His hand shot out, catching the edge of the silk. With one sharp, decisive tug, he pulled me forward and unraveled the fabric.

​My breath hitched. I felt the cool air of the cabin hit the heated skin of my neck.

​His eyes darkened instantly, turning into a stormy, midnight blue. "Aurora... what is that on your neck?"

​I tried to pull back, to cover the dark, purple mark Raymond had left on my pulse point, but his grip on the scarf kept me anchored close to him. He leaned in, his face inches from mine, and then his nostrils flared.

​He sniffed the air around my neck, a deep, predatory inhale that made my heart hammer against my ribs.

​"You smell like a man," he growled. His eyes searched mine, looking for the truth I was desperate to hide. "Who was in your apartment last night, Aurora? Who dared to put their mark on what belongs to me?"

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