Alpha's Rejected becomes the Lycan's Obsession-Chapter 75: Let’s see where this goes

Meanwhile, somewhere in Apex Dominica, the car moved like a whisper through the city, its engine purring beneath them as twilight cast a soft glow over the buildings.

Inside, Freya sat quietly beside Trevor, the low hum of music weaving into the silence between them. The streetlights danced in her eyes, but her mind was far from the passing view.

She still couldn’t wrap her head around what had happened earlier. If someone had told her Gary would be the one to pull off that dramatic spectacle at the restaurant, she might have considered it. But Trevor? The calm, calculating, sharp-suited Trevor Baliante? Not in her wildest dreams.

The silence held for several more heartbeats before Trevor finally broke it.

"I couldn’t help noticing you had a visitor," he said, his voice smooth but edged with something harder to define. "I hope I didn’t interrupt something."

Freya turned toward him, her lips quirking slightly. "You didn’t interrupt anything, Mr. Baliante," she replied, shaking her head. "I didn’t know he was coming. We were supposed to meet yesterday."

"Ah..." Trevor nodded slowly. "So he was the date that took my spot yesterday."

She let out a soft, melodic laugh, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "I haven’t stopped wondering why you put up all that drama just to ask me out on a date. I mean, not that I hated it—but I almost didn’t take it seriously."

"Well, good thing you didn’t dismiss it," Trevor responded, a smirk teasing the corners of his mouth. "That would’ve been... disappointing."

Freya tilted her head, curiosity lighting her features. "Why did you choose that route, though?"

He glanced at her for a second, then back at the road. "Let’s just say I saw a beautiful lady walk into a restaurant where I happened to be, and I thought, this marvelous creature deserves a treat sponsored by me. But when I saw your reaction to the first note, I thought—why stop now?"

Freya chuckled again, amused and slightly impressed.

By the time they pulled up to La Flora, the most exclusive restaurant in the city, she wasn’t even surprised anymore. It was Trevor Baliante, after all.

The building stood like a crystal dream—sleek glass walls, golden chandeliers sparkling like stars. A valet was already opening her door before she had fully unbuckled her seatbelt.

"Mr. Baliante..." she breathed, stepping out as the cool night air kissed her skin. "This place is—"

"Perfect," he finished for her, offering his arm with a roguish grin. "Only the best."

Inside, the atmosphere was rich with elegance. Their table was tucked away in a private corner, candlelight flickering over white linen and scattered rose petals. A chilled bottle of wine awaited them like an old friend.

As they walked through the dining hall, Freya’s heels clicked softly against the polished floor. She wasn’t unfamiliar with luxury, her upbringing had gifted her access to the finer things. But this felt different. This wasn’t a strategic dinner or an obligation. It was a moment. It was a date.

Trevor pulled out her chair and helped her settle in, his fingers briefly brushing the curve of her back. The touch was barely there, but it sent a shiver racing down her spine. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

The food arrived in delicate courses—perfectly seared scallops, a risotto that melted on the tongue—but it was the conversation that captivated her. Trevor didn’t just nod politely at her stories about hospital shifts or emergency calls. He leaned in, eyes fixed on hers, his attention unwavering.

"You save lives, Miss Stanford," he said, swirling his wine with slow elegance. "That’s... remarkable."

"And you make it sound way more graceful than it is," she replied with a soft smile. "Half the time, I’m elbow-deep in someone’s chest cavity, running on two hours of sleep and bad coffee."

Trevor laughed, deep and genuine. "Still, you manage people’s second chances. I manage spreadsheets. You win."

Freya flushed, heat creeping into her cheeks. She wasn’t the kind to swoon, but the way he spoke—like she was something rare and extraordinary—unsettled her, in the best possible way.

Then his voice shifted—low, teasing.

"You didn’t let me know if you’ve come up with a punishment for me yet."

Freya blinked. "Honestly, I didn’t think about it after that day. I assumed you were joking."

Trevor leaned forward slightly, his tone suddenly serious. "But I wasn’t. I was dead serious."

She shifted in her seat, caught off guard by the intensity in his eyes. "I don’t know how to punish adults, Mr. Baliante."

"Call me Trevor," he said, his voice dropping. "I think it’s high time we dropped the formalities. And you don’t have to punish me if you don’t want to... but that only means I get to continue being a bad boy."

Freya snorted, her laugh escaping before she could stop it. "I like bad boys," she admitted, meeting his gaze.

Trevor nodded slowly, a mischievous smile curving his lips. "Good."

The moment lingered, thick with something unspoken. Then he reached across the table, his fingers finding hers with surprising gentleness. His hand was warm, grounding.

"I know I move fast," he murmured, his thumb brushing her knuckles. "But from the moment I saw you, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to know you better. Tonight only confirmed it."

Her heart pounded. He wasn’t playing around. This was raw, vulnerable truth. And somehow, it didn’t scare her, even though it was supposed to.

Her father’s warning came back to her. Tessy’s mother’s warning rang in her mind. These people were dangerous. She shouldn’t indulge this. But why couldn’t she stop herself from hoping they move further from this stage?

"Then let’s see where this goes," she said softly, her fingers tightening around his.

The drive back was a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled. The city lights painted the windshield in streaks of gold and blue. When they arrived, Trevor stepped out quickly and rounded the car to open her door.

He walked her to her door, the night wrapping around them like velvet. There was a hesitation—just a flicker—before he leaned in and brushed his lips gently against her cheek.

"Goodnight, Freya."

Her voice was quiet, breathless. "Goodnight, Trevor."

She stepped inside, closing the door with a soft click. For a moment, she just leaned against it, one hand to her chest, heart fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings.

Her lips curved into a smile as she stared at nothing.