Forbidden Love: The Daddy Alpha Wants to Possess Me

“Are you nervous?” Liam asked, his hand finding mine over the car’s center console.

“A little,” I admitted, trying to make it sound like a smaller admission than it was. “Okay, maybe a lot. They’re your parents, Liam.”

“And they’re going to love you,” he said with that easy confidence I adored. He squeezed my hand. “My mom is a sweetheart, and my dad… well, he’s my dad. A bit formal, maybe, but he’s a good man. He respects people who work hard. He’ll respect you.”

“I hope so.” I looked down at the simple silver bracelet on my wrist, the one he’d given me for our first anniversary. It felt like a small, personal anchor in a world I was about to enter. “I just want them to like me.”

“They will, Ava. I promise.”

He was right, at least about his mother. Eleanor Croft was elegance personified, greeting me with a polite, if slightly distant, smile at the door of their Hampton’s estate.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Croft,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

“The pleasure is all mine, Ava,” she replied, her gaze sweeping over me for a fraction of a second too long. “Liam has told us so much about you. You work at a gallery downtown, is that right?”

“Yes, that’s right. Sterling Gallery.”

“How lovely,” she said, though her tone suggested it was anything but. “Well, come in, come in. Julian is just finishing up a call.”

Liam wrapped an arm around my waist. “See? Told you. Piece of cake.”

I was just starting to relax, just starting to believe him, when a man appeared at the top of the grand staircase. He was tall, impeccably dressed, and moved with an aura of absolute authority. My breath caught in my throat.

It couldn’t be.

“Dad! You’re here,” Liam said, his voice full of warmth. “This is Ava.”

The man descended the stairs, his eyes locking onto mine. There was a flicker of something in them—not surprise, but recognition. A cold, chilling recognition. The world tilted on its axis.

“Ava,” Julian Croft said, his voice a low rumble that I remembered from a lifetime ago, from a night I had tried desperately to forget. He extended a hand. “A pleasure.”

My hand was shaking as I placed it in his. His grip was firm. As our palms met, I felt his thumb sweep痕 over my pulse point, a deliberate, secret gesture. My blood ran cold.

“You have good taste, Liam,” he said, his gaze still fixed on me.

“Mr. Croft,” I managed to choke out.

Dinner was torture. It was a perfectly choreographed performance of a happy family meal, and I was the uninvited, terrified ghost at the table.

“So, Ava,” Julian began, placing his napkin on his lap. “Making it on your own in a city like New York… it must be challenging.”

“Yes, it can be,” I said, my eyes glued to my plate.

“But you seem to be doing well,” he continued, his tone smooth as velvet. “Liam tells me you’re quite passionate about art.”

“I am.”

“That’s good. Passion is important.”

Liam, oblivious, jumped in. “Ava’s amazing, Dad. She has खिलाड़ीan incredible eye. You should see some of her own work.”

“Oh? You paint as well?” Julian asked, leaning forward slightly.

“I… sometimes. Just a hobby.”

“You shouldn't be so modest," he said, and it sounded less like encouragement and more like a command. He took a slow sip of his wine, his eyes never leaving my face. "One should always own their talents. And their past.”

I felt a fork tremble in my hand and quickly put it down.

“Are you alright, dear?” Eleanor asked, noticing my sudden stillness. “You’ve barely touched your food.”

“I’m fine, thank you. Just… a little overwhelmed. Your home is beautiful.”

The diversion worked, at least for a moment. But the pressure of Julian’s gaze was relentless. It was there, a physical weight, for the rest of the meal.

When it was finally time to leave, Liam was busy talking to his mother near the door. I felt a presence behind me and knew, without turning, that it was him.

“I trust you had a pleasant evening,” he murmured, his voice low and for my ears only.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

“Monday,” he continued, his tone dropping to a near-whisper, a cold, sharp command. “Come to my office. We have some… old business… to discuss.”