Alpha's Regret: The Seventh Time was Forever

Chapter 63: Chapter 63 – Is she your sister?

Leon showed up in casual clothes, but on him casual did not mean careless, it meant fashion in a way that almost felt unfair.

The sleeves of his shirt were rolled just enough to expose strong forearms, dark denim clung to him like it had been tailored instead of bought, and even his sneakers looked like they belonged on a runway instead of the pavement outside Seraphine’s home.

He wore simplicity like it was a statement, like he knew exactly what he was doing and had no intention of apologizing for it.

There was a relaxed, almost playboy ease in the way he stood, one hand tucked into his pocket, shoulders loose, posture confident without looking forced, and it made Seraphine wary in a way she could not quite name.

She had dressed down too, just as he had suggested the night before, choosing something soft and understated, something that did not scream power or status, something that allowed her to blend rather than command.

Still, she could not ignore how he seemed carved into his outfit while she felt like she had stepped into a version of herself she rarely showed anyone.

She told herself this was just a date, just a normal human thing, something light and uncomplicated, yet the way he carried himself made her pulse quicken with caution.

Men who moved like that knew their effect, and men who knew their effect were dangerous in their own quiet way.

Leon had made a promise to himself that she would fall for him at first glance, that he would be the one in control of the moment, that the first impression would belong to him entirely.

He had pictured her walking toward him and imagined the exact expression she would wear when she saw him, imagined the way her breath might hitch, imagined the subtle shift in her posture that would tell him he had won before the game even began.

But the second he actually saw her, every carefully rehearsed thought dissolved into nothing.

Her hair was loose, falling around her shoulders like it had decided to defy restraint, catching the light in a way that made him stare longer than he should have.

Her smile was unguarded, not the controlled, polite curve people used in public settings, but something softer, something genuine that reached her eyes.

Her clothes were simple, yes, but on her they did not look plain, they looked radiant, as if the glow came from beneath her skin rather than from the fabric she wore.

He was the one who froze.

He rose from where he had been sitting with Corvine, his movements slower than usual because he needed that extra second to compose himself, and he met her halfway, closing the distance with a confidence he had to summon back into place.

”I’m Leon, and you must be Seraphine.”

He extended his hand, and when she stepped close enough, she placed hers into his without hesitation. Her palm was warm, her touch firm, and for a split second, he wondered if she felt the faint tremor in his fingers that he was desperately trying to suppress.

”Call me Sera,” she replied, her voice smooth but carrying a quiet strength that surprised him.

Leon lifted her hand with deliberate care and pressed a polite kiss to the back of it, his lips barely grazing her skin, yet his gaze never leaving hers.

He wanted her to see him, to feel the weight of his attention, to understand that he was not distracted, not bored, not half-present. He was entirely focused on her.

”I must confess,” he said, his voice dipping lower, warmer, ”you are prettier than my parents described you. Even Tyler failed to describe you precisely.”

Seraphine chuckled softly, a sound that wrapped around him in a way that felt far more intimate than it should have. She gently withdrew her hand before he could hold it any longer than necessary, a subtle boundary drawn with grace.

”Thanks for the compliment,” she replied, tilting her head slightly. ”And you look good too.”

A slow smile stretched across Leon’s lips, not cocky, not overdone, just enough to show he appreciated the acknowledgment.

”I like you already. Ready?” he asked, his voice smooth and easy, but there was something deliberate in the way his gaze stayed on her face, tracing the curve of her cheek, the faint arch of her brow, the way her lips pressed together like she was holding back thoughts she wasn’t ready to share.

He told himself he was just being observant, just reading the room, just doing what he always did so effortlessly, yet the truth was he was memorizing her in small, unnecessary details, storing them away like they might matter later in ways he did not want to admit.

She nodded, a soft, almost shy dip of her chin, and the two of them stepped forward at the same time, their movements briefly in sync, as if the day had already decided to cooperate with whatever this was going to become.

They barely made it two steps when Corvine moved into their path with such quiet precision that it felt rehearsed, as though he had been waiting for the exact second their shoulders aligned before placing himself directly in front of them.

He stood there solid and immovable, broad shoulders squared, feet planted with unmistakable intent, not aggressive but unyielding in a way that shifted the energy instantly.

The air tightened, the easy lightness from moments ago thinning into something heavier, something edged.

”You should have breakfast before you leave,” Corvine said, his tone calm on the surface, steady and controlled, yet there was something beneath it, something sharper that slid between the words like a blade hidden under silk.

Seraphine’s stomach chose that exact moment to betray her, letting out a soft, humiliating grumble that felt ten times louder in the thickening silence.

She had rushed through getting ready, skipped food because she hated being late, and now she was already ten minutes behind schedule.

Heat crept slowly up her neck, spreading to her cheeks, and she instinctively wrapped one arm lightly around her midsection like she could silence her own body through sheer will.

”Don’t worry, I—” she started, attempting to brush it off, attempting to make it seem like nothing, like she wasn’t actually hungry, like she hadn’t been thinking about food since she smelled the faint aroma drifting from the kitchen earlier.

”We are going on a date,” Leon interrupted smoothly, his voice cutting gently but decisively into the space before she could finish. There was no aggression in his tone, no open challenge, just a polished confidence that suggested he had everything handled. ”Food and drinks are all arranged. They’re on me.”

He shifted his weight slightly, tilting his head as if only now realizing something had slipped his mind, though his eyes flickered with curiosity that felt anything but casual.

”I forgot to ask,” he continued, glancing between them, ”is she your sister? You two do not look alike though.”