Fated To Three, And I Broke Them All

Bruno:

"Come on, Jenna. Let’s go. It’s your party," I told her as she slowly lowered herself onto a chair in the hallway.

"There’s no need for me to go back in there. It’s just a facade. We keep telling ourselves everything is normal, but it’s not."

There was so much pain in her voice that I slipped my hands into my pockets and released a deep breath I had been holding since I arrived at the party.

This place never used to feel so suffocating, but now it did.

"Don’t let one crazy man ruin your party. It’s such an important night," I told her, genuinely feeling bad for her.

I had heard what happened to Jenna. It was cruel and completely unacceptable.

"You know, many of my friends in there have seen the videos."

The moment she said that, a strange pain tightened in my chest.

"Ask them who sent the videos."

I tried to stay logical for her because emotionally, I had already been damaged beyond repair.

She gave a bitter chuckle and shook her head.

"That’s the problem. They say no one sent the videos to them. They were shown the videos on someone else’s phone."

Before I could ask another question, Jenna glanced up at me and gave me a faint smile.

"And when I asked who showed them, they said they couldn’t remember. Then, when I pressured them, they admitted they were lying. They’ve never seen the videos."

I understood Jenna’s frustration. Her friends had not even tried to be honest with her. That was the real problem.

"You know, your friends are part of what’s wrong with society," I muttered.

A small smile touched her lips as she rose to her feet.

"Well, I’m not sure about that, but you’re right. I have a whole-ass party full of people who have seen me naked and in suggestive poses, waiting for me to walk in there and make their night lively."

She held the side of her gown and gave me an exaggerated, mocking curtsy bow.

I saw tears forming in her eyes, but she only shrugged before walking ahead of me.

I could understand what she was feeling, but only partially.

That man had treated her horribly. He had been unbelievably cruel.

But the real question was, how cruel would I look when the truth about me resurfaced?

I sighed, lowered my gaze, and followed her inside.

The minute we returned to the party, I noticed Jenna was smiling.

She had perfected the art of faking it, and honestly, for a moment, it almost looked genuine.

If I hadn’t spoken to her earlier, I might have believed it was real.

Grandma gestured for me to come over.

She was probably the only person here I could sit and talk to comfortably.

There was no negative energy around her. She disliked it as much as I did.

I approached her with a smile, but just as I was about to sit down, she motioned for me to keep moving.

"Go ahead. Have a dance with Jenna," she insisted.

Jenna turned toward her before shaking her head.

"No, it’s okay," she replied, waving a hand dismissively.

After the Royal Beta’s earlier comments, I could understand her hesitation.

She was probably afraid of getting too close to another man and giving people something else to talk about.

I hadn’t come here intending to dance either, but one dance with her wouldn’t hurt.

"Come on. I don’t think I’m that bad of a dancer," I teased.

A small laugh escaped her, although even that sounded forced.

"Come on," I urged again, holding out my hand.

She stared at it for several seconds before finally nodding and placing her hand in mine.

Together, we stepped onto the dance floor.

People around us began clapping, probably because they assumed the two of us were close.

I had known Jenna since we were children.

There wasn’t much difference between our ages, so we had practically grown up alongside each other.

The only problem was that we had never really talked much.

We had very little in common, and Grandma had always been extremely protective of her. She had kept Jenna sheltered.

Or at least, that was what we had all believed.

"You know, whoever picked your gown did a great job," I remarked.

Her smile brightened slightly.

"Yeah, well, that was me."

"Wow. You have great taste."

We both behaved as though this was the most fascinating conversation either of us had ever had.

"Why didn’t you hold a mate ball for yourself?" she asked.

The question genuinely surprised me.

I hadn’t expected her to know or remember something like that.

I had always assumed she was too buried in her books to pay much attention to the people around her.

"Maybe I didn’t want a mate," I replied.

We continued moving across the dance floor. After a few steps, I guided her into a twirl.

This time, the smile that lit up her face looked real.

And it was worth seeing.

"That’s..." she commented once her giggling from the twirl had faded.

"What is?" I asked, a little confused.

"Why is it that good guys like you don’t even want to find a mate?"

The compliment was so subtle and casual that it came at exactly the moment I needed it most.

"Well, you never know. Maybe I’m not a good guy," I replied jokingly.

Deep down, I wanted to believe I was.

"Oh, that’s bullshit, Bruno. You’re a really good guy. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t feel this safe dancing with you."

She pouted cutely, making my heart skip a beat.

I really needed to hear that.

Coming from someone who was so afraid of other people’s touch, hearing her openly admit that she felt safe with me stunned me.

But what happened next stunned me even more.

As she flipped her hair, her hand suddenly clutched the front of my shirt.

My heart stopped for a second.

So did my steps.

My eyes widened as I heard her heartbeat, and I saw the same shock reflected on her face.

Then I heard it.

"Mate."