Chapter 173
Ethan’s POV
Evening came faster than I wanted. I drove back to the Holt estate, engine idling impatiently at the front entrance while I waited for Clara to finally get her ass outside.
That mysterious investor from V&A Group had agreed to meet me next week.
Tonight, I needed to attend this jewelry auction and pick up something impressive—show them I was still a player worth their time, that Silver Creek Pack wasn’t struggling despite what the rumors said.
I’d planned to go alone. Keep it professional. But Clara had overheard me mentioning the event and immediately latched onto it like a parasite.
“It’s organized by that international auction house,” she’d gushed to my mother, Margaret. “All the important Alphas will be there. I should go with Ethan—pick out some investment pieces, network a little p>
She hadn’t asked me directly.
Too smart for that. Instead, she’d worked on my mother, who naturally saw the “logic” in having the Alpha’s mate—Clara, not Aria, never Aria—by his side at these events.
Margaret had cornered me this morning. “It would look good, having Clara with you. Show Pack unity. And frankly, she has better taste in jewelry than you do p>
So here I was. Stuck bringing Clara to an event where I needed to appear strong, stable, successful—not like a man whose personal life was a fucking disaster.
I’d been waiting twenty minutes already. My fingers drummed against the steering wheel, irritation building with each passing second.
My phone buzzed—my assistant calling with another update on his search for Aria.
“Still nothing, Alpha,” he said, sounding exhausted.
“Useless,” I snarled. “All of you are fucking useless p>
I hung up just as Clara finally emerged from the house.
She’d clearly spent hours getting ready—wearing a deep emerald velvet gown with a black fur-trimmed jacket over it.
Elegant, expensive, designed to turn heads. The kind of outfit that screamed “Alpha’s mate” without saying a word.
I barely glanced at her before putting the car in gear.
“Well?” Clara’s voice had an edge as she settled into the passenger seat, clearly expecting me to compliment her appearance.
I said nothing. Just stared straight ahead at the driveway.
The silence stretched between us, heavy and cold. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her expression shift from hopeful to hurt to irritated.
Good. Let her be irritated. I was beyond caring about her feelings right now.
All I could think about was Aria. That phone call. Those sounds. Another man touching what should have been mine.
The twenty-minute drive to the auction venue felt like an eternity.
Clara kept trying to make conversation—mentioning the guest list, the jewelry pieces she’d researched, how this could be good for Pack relations.
But I had no interest in listening to a word of it.
When we arrived at the venue—a historic building in the city’s most exclusive district—I was out of the car the second I parked.
Long strides carrying me toward the entrance without looking back.
“Ethan!” Clara’s voice came from behind me, slightly breathless. “Could you slow down? I’m in heels p>
I didn’t slow down. Didn’t even turn around. She could keep up or not—I didn’t give a shit.
The auction house was already buzzing with activity when we entered.
Alphas from various Packs mingled in the lobby, their mates dripping in designer clothes and previous auction wins.
The air smelled like expensive perfume, aged whiskey, and the particular musk of powerful wolves sizing each other up.
A few heads turned as I walked past. Whispers followed—I’d been making headlines lately, and not the good kind. Company struggles. Rumors about financial instability in Silver Creek Pack.
My jaw clenched. I kept my expression neutral, shoulders back, projecting confidence I didn’t entirely feel.
Clara caught up to me, slightly winded, her cheeks flushed with exertion and embarrassment. She looped her arm through mine—claiming me publicly the way she always did at these events.
“Ethan,” she whispered urgently. “Everyone’s watching. Could you at least pretend we’re here together p>
“We are here together,” I said flatly. “That’s the problem p>
Her fingers tightened on my arm. “What’s that supposed to mean p>
I didn’t answer. An usher was directing us toward the main auction hall—a grand room with tiered seating and private boxes for VIP guests.
We’d purchased regular tickets, not quite cheap but nowhere near the exclusive invitation-only boxes that overlooked the main floor.
As we found our seats, I noticed the private boxes across from us. Curtains drawn, security posted outside.
That’s where the real power players sat.
One day, that would be me. Silver Creek Pack would rise, expand, become something more than “middle-tier.” I’d make sure of it.