Iris


    I''ve just pulled up to the gallery when I notice that the lobby is already filling up. It''s surprising, to say the least; all these people aren''t justing for me, are they?


    As an artist, I''ve always kept my identity private-more for Miles'' sake than mine, although I''d be lying if I said it wasn''t also to keep Arthur from finding any information on me if he searched. I use the pseudonym ''Flora'', and I''ve rarely shown my face online. My work might be up anding, but few know anything about the real woman behind it.


    Which is exactly why a crowd of this size takes me aback, especially when I see all of the cameras and notepads.


    Before I can even reach the front doors, someone with a camera spots me andes rushing over, causing the rest of the crowd to follow.


    "Hey, you! You''re the Alpha President''s fated mate, right?!" the person asks, their camera already shing. "What do you have to say about your fated mate, Alpha President Arthur?"


    My eyes widen into saucers as I put two and two together.


    These are journalists who want the next big scoop on the Alpha President''s supposed ''love triangle".


    I''m not sure what to say, not that I really even have much of a chance. Before I know it, I''m being bombarded with questions about my past with Arthur.


    The only g


    The only good thing is night when those


    Still, I ay


    ems as though no one knows the actual story. Some of them ask if Arthur and I only just metst


    ken, and others ask if we''ve known each other for longer.


    trying to push my way back toward the street.


    liar voice cuts through the din. "Move out of the way!"


    muscr men in sleek ck suits and dark sunsses with earpieces in their ears moving toward me. Brian nd his face is as pale as if he''s just seen a ghost.


    he away before I can evenprehend what''s happening, although I''m grateful. The crowd parts for the two rds like warm butter, and within mere moments, I''m sliding into the backseat of an awfully familiar car.


    this... Arthur''s car?" I ask, turning toward Brian with shock written across my face.


    He nods, and he looks just as shocked as I am. Brian exins everything that happened at the Alpha gathering, and as he does, his expression morphs into guilt.


    "I''m sorry, Iris," he says, sping my hands tightly between his own. "I just got so angry, and you know how much I care about you... I should have talked to him in private, not in front of all those people. But then his fiancee said those things about their ''unshakable bond'', and..."


    +20 Bonus


    I swallow hard and pat his hands. "It''s okay, Brian. I can''t me you."


    Brian''s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Really?"


    "I don''t think this is your fault," I reply with a nod. "Arthur is a public figure who dragged us all into this mess by yanking me around the other day. I think... I think he''s still trying to cause chaos in my life, even after all these years."


    There''s a brief silence after that. Brian looks like he''s not sure what to say, and my throat suddenly feels a little too constricted to


    speak.


    Truthfully, I feel... helpless. Arthur and I broke up five years ago, and I only came back to Ordan to further my art career. My visit to the city I used to love had nothing to do with him, or at least, it wasn''t supposed to.


    And yet here he is, getting involved, trying to ''win'' his human mistress back with money. And in doing so, he''s impeding on my


    art career.


    But I can''t let him ruin everything. This career is too important to me; so, steeling my resolve, I ask Brian to take me home so t


    can change.


    Brian is a bit surprised, but doesn''t argue. We return to the apartment, where I slip into different, more nondescript clothes: a


    ck turtleneck and a pair of slightly paint-stained white painter''s pants, a far cry from the sleek dress and heels I was wearing


    before. I pull my hair back into a w clip, put on dark red lipstick and ck eyeliner, and my oversized reading sses.


    When I''m finished, I look like a different person. The perfect picture of a slightly messy artist, which is more true to my style anyway. I don''t think anyone will be able to tell that I''m the same person, so long as I take care to avoid getting too close.