Chapter 109 The Ex-Luna
Emilia’s POV
"Welcome, Alpha Sebastian."
A portly man in an expensive suit came waddling toward us, his hand extended. From his demeanor and the way others moved aside for him, he was clearly the host of tonight’s gala.
Sebastian shook his hand.
"And this must be Mrs. Simons," the man said, turning to me.
"Yes. Pleasure to meet you." I shook his hand, secretly relieved he hadn’t called me "the seventh Mrs. Simons" in front of everyone. That would have been awkward as hell.
The host immediately launched into business talk with Sebastian, discussing pack alliances and trade agreements. I lasted about three minutes before my brain started to melt from boredom.
"I’m going to find somewhere to sit," I murmured to Sebastian.
He nodded slightly, already deep in conversation, and I slipped away into the crowd.
I found a quiet corner with a good view of the ballroom and grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.
Settling into a velvet chair, I let myself people-watch.
The cream of Silverlake City’s wolf society was here tonight—Alphas in tailored suits, Lunas dripping with diamonds, all playing their parts in this elaborate social dance.
That’s when I felt it. A gaze, sharp as broken glass, cutting through the crowd toward me.
I turned my head and saw her. A woman in a blood-red dress was staring at me. Her look was full of hostility. Her eyes showed such strong jealousy that I could almost feel it from across the room.
Another one of Sebastian’s admirers, probably. Or worse, given Tiffany’s stories about the previous wives. Maybe one of the exes?
I deliberately looked away and took a sip of champagne.
Not my circus, not my monkeys.
I had enough drama with Linda without borrowing more.
But sometimes trouble comes looking for you.
The click of heels on the floor grew louder, and I looked up to find the woman in red standing right in front of me, arms crossed, expression icy.
"Can I help you?" I asked.
Without meaning to, I brushed against her thoughts—
[How dare she sit there so casually... that bitch... what does she have besides a pretty face? How has she lasted more than three months with Sebastian when the rest of us couldn’t even make it past one?]
Oh. So she was definitely an ex. Lovely.
"Don’t you know to stand up when addressing a senior?" the woman said coldly.
I raised an eyebrow. "Senior? Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met."
"Even if you don’t know who I am, you should have the courtesy to stand and ask ’Who are you?’ instead of sitting there asking ’Can I help you?’ like some common—"
"If you’re bothered by the height difference," I interrupted gently, "feel free to sit down. There are plenty of chairs in this ballroom. Or is finding furniture too challenging for you?"
Her face flushed with anger. "Oh, you’re clever with your mouth. I’ve heard people saying Sebastian finally met his match. I didn’t believe it, but seeing you now, I do."
"You’ve got it wrong," I said, taking another sip of champagne. "I’m not Sebastian’s match. I’m the one who’s going to break his streak of short marriages."
"Shameless," she hissed, her expression twisting into something ugly. "No one can break that streak. Don’t think you’re special just because you have a pretty face. Didn’t your mother teach you to know your place?"
The mention of my mother sent a flash of anger through me.
"Did yours? Because if she had, you wouldn’t be here making a scene over something that’s none of your business."
I felt her thoughts spike with rage a split second before she moved—
[I’ll teach this bitch a lesson—]
The champagne in her glass tilted toward my face. But I’d already heard the thought. I shifted to the side, and the champagne splashed harmlessly onto the chair beside me.
Her eyes widened in shock.
"Whoops," I said sweetly. "Looks like you missed."
Then, before she could recover, I flicked my own glass toward her. The golden liquid splashed across her red dress, leaving dark stains on the silk.
The woman gasped, staring down at herself in disbelief. Conversations around us came to a halt. People were staring.
"You—you—" She raised her hand, palm flat, aiming straight for my face.
But she never got to do it.
Sebastian appeared out of nowhere. He grabbed her wrist and stopped her.
His expression was dark. He looked furious.
"Raelene Ferguson," he said angrily. "How dare you touch my Luna?"
He called me his Luna. Not just "my woman" or "Mrs. Simons." Even with everything going on, something warm spread in my chest.
So this was Raelene Ferguson. One of his ex-wives. Mystery solved.
"Sebastian," Raelene said, her voice a little shaky. "She’s your Luna now, but what about me? I was your Luna too! Do you know how she talked to me?"
"I don’t care how she talked to you," Sebastian said flatly. "You deserved every word."
Before Raelene could cause more of a scene, Sebastian grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the edge of the ballroom. I stood up, smoothing my dress, and followed them.
We ended up in a corner alcove, partially hidden by an elaborate flower arrangement. Sebastian released Raelene’s arm and crossed his arms.
"I sent you away," he said coldly. "We’re divorced. Your pack received a very generous settlement. Why the hell are you back in Silverlake City?"
"Why can’t I come back?" Raelene’s voice rose. "I love you, Sebastian! What does this woman have that I don’t? How has she stayed by your side for three months when you sent me away after three weeks?"
I stepped forward, positioning myself next to Sebastian. Close enough that anyone looking would see us as a united front.
"Excuse me," I said pleasantly, "but he’s my husband now. Do you really think it’s appropriate to try to get him back right in front of his current Luna? "