Fated To Love You

Lasting Impressions.

(Christian)

Engrossed in his phone call to his mate, Devon was left behind as I distanced myself from him. The she wolf that he was talking to was someone I had a strong opinion of. Whether it was her behavior or the fact that I could sense her intentions were malicious, I simply did not like her. The journey back home seemed never-ending as I carried the weight of the day on my shoulders. The anticipation of finally being able to relax engulfed me. The streets were filled with busy traffic, reminding me of the countless individuals making their way home after a long day's work.

The sun began to set, casting a warm glow across the horizon. Every passing mile felt like a grueling marathon, with the minutes ticking by at an agonizingly slow pace. The familiar sights and sounds of the city blurrily passed by as my mind wandered, replaying the day's events on an endless loop. Thoughts of unfinished tasks and impending deadlines swirled inside my mind, threatening to overwhelm me.

However, the radio served as a soothing distraction, playing a melodic tune that provided peace amidst the chaos. The rhythmic hum of the engine became a soundtrack to my thoughts, a constant companion as I maneuvered through the labyrinthine streets and acquainted turns. And finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the mansion where my family resides came into my line of sight. The sight of it filled me with a deep sense of relief, knowing that soon I would be able to unwind and let go of the day's worries.

At least, that was what I was hoping for. I parked my car under the massive awning, turned the engine off, and opened the car door to step out. The night breeze felt wonderful as I exited my car and began walking up the sidewalk to the front door.

“Good evening, Mr. Sinclair. Your father called to say he will be home late tonight.” Gregory, our doorman said, holding the front door for me.

“Thank you, Gregory.” I replied.

I walked into the foyer and placed my coat in the closet. I picked up the mail sitting on the counter and headed into the dining room. The dinner that was prepared caused my stomach to growl; seasoned brisket served with baby potatoes and asparagus. I took my seat on the side, just next to the head of the table.

No one dared sit at the head, other than my father. Devon tried a few times, but it always turned out badly for him in the end. I began opening my mail as the maid placed the food on my plate. She didn’t say anything to me, and then again, she never did.

As I picked up my fork, I couldn't help but anticipate the flavors that were about to dance across my taste buds. The aroma of the perfectly cooked brisket wafted through the air, enticing me further. The tender meat, marinated in a delectable blend of spices, had been slow-cooked to perfection, allowing the flavors to meld together and create a harmonious symphony of taste.

As I dug into the brisket, my fork easily glided through the succulent layers, revealing the juicy and melt-in-your-mouth texture that I had been craving. Each bite was a revelation, with the smoky, savory flavors mingling with the slight sweetness that the marinade had imparted. The combination of tender meat and well-balanced flavors made this dish an absolute delight for my senses.

With every bite, I could feel my taste buds coming alive, savoring the richness and depth of the brisket. It was a culinary experience that I would not soon forget, leaving me eagerly reaching for another forkful, eager to continue the journey through this mouthwatering masterpiece.

It was a surreal moment as I had just finished the last bite of my meal when my father, who had been away at work all night, entered the house. The timing was impeccable, almost as if he had known I was about to finish eating. As he walked in, a wave of familiarity and warmth washed over me.

It felt like all was right with the world at that moment, with my father's familiar presence filling the room. He took his rightful place at the head of the table, a position he had always occupied during family meals. It was a symbol of his authority and guidance, a position of respect that he had earned over the years.

As he settled into his seat, a sense of comfort enveloped me. The anticipation of his return had made the meal feel incomplete, and now, with his presence, it felt whole. The maid walked over and placed a plate in front of my father, who acknowledged his approval of the meal.

"So son, how was your day?" My father asked, stuffing a forkful of brisket in his mouth.

"Not too bad, the proposal went great, papers will be signed tomorrow." I responded, my father seemed pleased with that answer.

"Good, good. You're turning into quite a business, man. Soon, you will be ready to take on the pack."

As my father and I finished a relaxing dinner, we continued our conversation from earlier, delving into deeper topics and sharing antics from our day. The atmosphere was warm and comfortable, with the aroma of freshly cooked food filling the air.

We laughed, we debated, and we connected on a level that only a father and son could. Our conversation flowed effortlessly, each of us taking turns sharing our perspectives and experiences. We were fully engrossed in our discussion, unaware of the passage of time.

But just as we were reaching a grand moment, the door swung open, and in walked Devon, my father's other son and my half brother, accompanied by his charismatic mate. The lively energy shifted. At that point in time, I felt it was time for me to turn in.

"Father, if you'll excuse me, I believe it is time for me to get some rest," I uttered, rising from my seat.

"No, please don't depart on my account," Devon interjected.

"Actually, it works out perfectly that you're both here, as we need to discuss the matter of the true heir," Rebecca stated straightforwardly.

"There's nothing to discuss, young lady. Christian is my designated heir and will assume the alpha role. If I were you, I'd choose my words more carefully," my father bellowed. Heather visibly tensed at his words.

“I didn’t mean anything by that, please excuse me father…” Rebecca started.

“That’s Alpha to you. You may be my son’s mate, but you will address me with the correct term!” My father roared.

I stood up and stretched before walking up to my room, so much for lasting impressions. I grabbed a quick shower before slipping into the silk sheets of my king-size bed and drifting off to sleep.