Chapter 5 One Reason Not to Choose You
Emilia’s POV
I stared at Alpha Sebastian, too startled to look away, too relieved by the sudden quiet to remember I was supposed to be afraid.
He stared back.
Something flickered in his expression—surprise, maybe? His eyes narrowed slightly, studying me with an intensity that should have been uncomfortable but instead felt almost... hungry.
The silence stretched between us, loaded with something I couldn’t name.
*Why isn’t she crying?* I distantly heard the guide’s thought from near the door. *Why isn’t she running?*
Why wasn’t I?
Maybe because after hours of voices screaming in my head, a man who gave me silence felt less like a monster and more like salvation.
Or maybe because despite everything I’d heard about Sebastian Simons—the violence, the dead wives, the cruelty—the way he was looking at me didn’t feel cruel at all.
It felt possessive. Focused. Like he’d been waiting his entire life for me to walk through that door.
"Sit," he said finally, his voice a low rumble that sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.
I sat.
His gaze never left mine. If anything, it intensified, tracking every movement I made as I settled into the chair across from him.
*Why does he keep staring at her like that?* The guide’s confused thought drifted from behind me. *He barely looked at the others for more than a few seconds. What’s so special about this wolfless girl?*
I wondered the same thing.
Sebastian leaned back slightly, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. "You’re not afraid."
It wasn’t a question. It was an observation, tinged with something that might have been curiosity.
"Should I be?" I asked quietly.
His lips curved into the smallest hint of a smile. "Everyone else has been."
"Maybe everyone else had something to lose," I replied. "I don’t."
That seemed to intrigue him. He tilted his head slightly, those green eyes never wavering from my face.
The silence between us felt different now. Charged. Electric.
I should have been terrified. This was the man who’d buried six wives. The notorious Alpha whose temper was legendary, whose cruelty was whispered about across multiple packs.
Instead, all I felt was a strange, dizzy sense of calm. As long as I sat here, in his presence, my mind was blessedly quiet. The chaos couldn’t touch me.
"I need to ask you a question," Sebastian said finally. "The same one I’ve asked every woman who’s come through that door today."
"Alright."
"How many times have I been married?"
"Six," I answered immediately. It wasn’t exactly a secret. The whole supernatural community knew about him.
"And do you think," he continued, his voice dropping lower, more dangerous, "that a man who can’t maintain a successful marriage has any business running a company worth billions?"
Ah. So that was the question that had made all those women cry.
It was a trap, of course. Answer yes, and you’re calling him incompetent. Answer no, and you’re dismissing the significance of six failed marriages. Either way, you lose.
But I’d spent my entire life navigating traps set by people who wanted me to fail.
"Of course you can," I said calmly, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Personal relationships have nothing to do with professional capability. Some of the most successful CEOs in history had disastrous private lives. The two aren’t connected."
Silence.
Sebastian’s expression shifted—surprise melting into something darker, more pleased. A smirk played at the corner of his mouth.
"Interesting answer," he murmured.
He leaned forward suddenly, closing the distance between us. I could smell him now—mint and cedar, clean and masculine and utterly intoxicating.
"Tell me, Emilia Taylor," he said softly, my name on his lips sending another involuntary shiver through me. "Why shouldn’t I marry you?"
My brain stuttered to a halt. "I—what?"
"You heard me." His eyes gleamed with dark amusement. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t choose you as my seventh bride right now."
One reason.
He wanted one reason why he shouldn’t marry me.
My thoughts scrambled.
This was it—the moment that would determine whether I walked out of here as Sebastian Simons’ seventh bride or just another failed candidate.
The silence in my head, that blessed, merciful silence his presence gave me, made it almost impossible to think clearly.
Almost.
"Because," I said slowly, meeting those intense green eyes, "I have absolutely no intention of dying for you."
His eyebrows rose fractionally. "Excuse me?"
I leaned forward, matching his posture. "Six wives, Alpha Sebastian. Six. And according to every rumor, every whispered story, every sensational headline—they’re all dead or missing. So if you’re looking for wife number seven to follow the same pattern, you should absolutely not choose me. Because I plan to be extraordinarily difficult to kill."
For a heartbeat, the room was utterly still.
Then Sebastian Simons threw his head back and laughed.
It wasn’t a polite chuckle or a sardonic snort.
It was a genuine, full-throated laugh that softened his entire face. The harsh lines softened. The coldness in his eyes melted into something almost... human.
"You," he said, still smiling, "are either the bravest woman I’ve ever met or the most foolish."
"Can’t I be both?"
His smile widened into something hungry.
"Tell me, Miss Taylor. Why are you so confident you’ll be different from the others?"
Because I can’t hear your thoughts, I wanted to say. Because you’re the only person in this entire building whose mind is blessedly, perfectly silent to me. Because standing near you is the first peace I’ve had in days.
But I couldn’t say any of that.
"Because unlike them," I said instead, "I’m not here looking for love, or money, or status. I’m here because my family’s pack is drowning in debt and you’re the life raft they’ve thrown me toward. I was sacrificed here. That makes me pragmatic, not desperate. And pragmatic people tend to survive."
Something flickered in his expression—surprise, perhaps? Or amusement?
"Pragmatic," he repeated, tasting the word. "I like that."
"I can be your seventh wife. And your last."
He stood abruptly, and I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. God, he was tall. Towering. The kind of presence that filled a room and demanded submission.
But I didn’t lower my gaze.
"Fine," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr that sent shivers down my spine. "You want to be my seventh bride? Then I’ll give you a chance, if only for your courage. But remember—it doesn’t matter who I choose, because I have no intention of loving any woman. Let’s see how long your confidence lasts."
He strode toward the door, then paused, glancing back at me over his shoulder. "Are you coming, or do I need to send someone to carry you?"
I stood, tugging at the hem of my dress with shaking hands that I hoped he didn’t notice. "I can walk perfectly well on my own, thank you."
"We’ll see about that."
The moment we stepped out of the room, every single pair of eyes locked onto Sebastian and me.
"Alpha Sebastian, have you made your decision? " the guide asked in a low voice, confused to see him leaving the room already.
"That’s right. Her. " Sebastian tilted his chin slightly, pointing at me.