After One Night with the Alpha Chapter 209

Elle's POV

The moment of judgment had arrived, and I could feel the nervous energy crackling through the air like electricity. All the contestants stood around their cooking stations, eyes fixed on the panel of judges seated at the front of the deck. But everyone's attention was drawn to the figure in the center—the captain in his ornate silver mask.

One by one, contestants were called forward to present their dishes. The world-renowned chefs on the panel gave brief but professional critiques, their expressions revealing their honest opinions before they even spoke. When they looked at some dishes, I could see the polite disappointment in their faces.

Then my name was called.

"Elle West."

My stomach dropped. I picked up my plate of cream puffs, knowing full well they looked like absolute shit. The pastry was uneven, the cream filling was slightly lumpy, and honestly, I'd be surprised if they tasted any better than they looked. I had zero confidence as I walked toward the judges' table.

The panel of celebrity chefs took one look at my sad excuse for dessert and I could practically see them trying not to wince. One chef raised an eyebrow, another pursed his lips. It was obvious they knew exactly what they were looking at—amateur hour.

But then the captain spoke up.

"I'd like to evaluate this dish personally," he said, his voice carrying that smooth authority I'd grown to recognize.

What the hell?

I placed the plate in front of him, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I know it's not great," I muttered, unable to meet his gaze through that mask.

The captain lifted a spoon with elegant precision, took a careful bite of my pathetic cream puff, and chewed thoughtfully. The entire deck fell silent, waiting for his verdict.

"It's awful," he said simply.

My body went rigid.

*Awful? I've heard that comment before...*

I could hear some of the other female contestants barely containing their snickers behind me, clearly enjoying my humiliation.

Despite declaring it awful, the captain continued eating. Spoonful after spoonful, he methodically consumed the entire plate while maintaining eye contact with me.

"This is the worst cream puff I've ever tasted in my life," he stated, taking another bite.

That habit—saying one thing while doing the complete opposite—was so damn familiar.

"Are you going to stand there all day, or are you planning to return to your station?" he asked, but there was something in his tone, something I recognized.

Without thinking, I stepped forward and reached for his mask. "I know you."

His hand shot out and caught my wrist before I could touch the silver surface. The contact sent that familiar jolt through my system, the same electric feeling I got whenever Brad touched me.

He lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles. "Easy. I haven't given my final score yet. Are you so eager to offer yourself?"

The audacity! The entire crowd was watching this exchange, and he was openly flirting with me like some kind of performer putting on a show.

"You should wait quietly for the results." he continued smoothly.

Before I could respond, he suddenly pulled me toward him. I found myself sitting on his lap, facing the crowd of shocked contestants and judges. The entire deck erupted in gasps and murmurs.

"What the hell are you doing?" I hissed, completely mortified. This had escalated from private harassment to public humiliation.

I tried to get up, but he held me firmly in place.

The bastard was enjoying this way too much. I reached for his mask again, determined to expose him, but his voice stopped me.

"If you're not afraid of me kissing you in front of everyone, then by all means, go ahead."

There was an Alpha authority in those words that made my entire body react. The commanding tone, the implicit threat, the way he seemed to own the entire space around him—I knew exactly who spoke like that.

My face burned red as the pieces clicked into place. I was ninety-nine percent certain I knew who was under that mask, and apparently, he was done hiding.

The other judges began announcing their scores, but I barely heard them. The captain's chin rested against the top of my head, and I could feel his breath in my hair.

"Are you done playing games?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"This is fun," he replied simply.

I looked around at the crowd and realized I had become the target of every woman's jealous stare. Some looked confused, others envious, but all of them were watching our every interaction with rapt attention.

The scoring finished, and a young couple was announced as the first-place winners. Sophia and Abigail looked disappointed but not devastated. They'd had fun, and that was what mattered.

Then the captain stood, lifting me with him before setting me on my feet but keeping me close.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced to the crowd, "I have a special award to present. The highest honor of the evening."

The crowd leaned forward in anticipation.

"The prize," he continued with dramatic flair, "is a kiss from me."

The deck erupted in excited squeals and gasps from the female contestants.

"This award goes to my mate," he said, looking directly at me, "for creating the most atrocious cream puff in culinary history. Truly, this prize is well deserved."

Before anyone could fully process his words, he reached up and removed his mask and wig in one smooth motion.

Brad Rayne's face was revealed to the crowd.

The silence lasted exactly two seconds before chaos erupted. Gasps, shrieks, and excited chatter filled the air as people realized they'd been watching the Alpha of Rayne Group this entire time.

I saw Sophia's mouth fall open, Abigail's eyes widen in shock, and Susan's hand fly to her chest.

Before I could even begin to process what was happening, Brad's hands cupped my face and he leaned down to kiss me.

The crowd erupted in applause.

But as Brad's lips met mine, memories of the past flooded back. Anger flared in my chest and I bit down hard on his lower lip, tasting blood.

Instead of pulling away, Brad deepened the kiss, his arms tightening around me.

The kiss seemed to last forever. When he finally pulled back, Brad pressed his forehead against mine, his hands still cradling my face.

"Elle, I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I'm sorry you suffered."

"Why didn't you trust me this time?" he asked, his thumb brushing away a tear I didn't realize had fallen. "Elle, don't push me toward other women, okay? I only want you. Just you."

I couldn't speak. My throat was tight with emotion, and tears were streaming down my face.

Brad took my hand and pressed it flat against his chest, over his heart. "It's so empty here, Elle. Come back and fill this space, please?"

More tears fell.

He leaned down and pressed soft kisses to my lips, my cheeks, my forehead. "Please, baby. My love, come back to me... come back to me..."