Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 255: Galas and new enemies (Win-Win)

Chapter 255: Chapter 255: Galas and new enemies (Win-Win)
Adonis Malek did not enjoy galas.
He endured them.
The Viscount of Clearstone sat slightly apart from the densest clusters of conversation, posture composed, one elbow resting against the carved arm of his chair as he regarded the room through the amber of his drink. Silver threaded his hair at the temples, neatly kept. The cut of his suit was immaculate, old-money restraint refined into something sharper. He looked like a man who had survived several versions of power and learned which ones were worth acknowledging.
Saha’s court glittered around him with polished laughter, calculated glances, and alliances rehearsed between sips of champagne. Important, yes. Necessary, perhaps. Never interesting.
He lifted the glass, inhaled once, then set it back down untouched.
"Viscount Malek."
Adelaide’s voice carried the warmth of someone who believed proximity could manufacture relevance. She had positioned herself carefully, eyes bright with intent as she inclined her head.
"Lady Adelaide," Adonis replied, courteous and empty.
She smiled, undeterred. "I thought you might appreciate knowing that I spoke briefly with Christopher."
That got his attention for a brief moment.
Adonis turned his head just enough to look at her directly. His bronze gaze was assessing the woman he barely wanted to speak with. "Did you, now" he said.
"Yes. Only a moment. He was... gracious." She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. "Very composed."
Adonis hummed, unimpressed. "That tends to happen when a king is standing within arm’s reach."
Adelaide hesitated, then recovered. "Still. He is odd... Claude had done everything he could to keep us away from his children. That will was the only thing that kept us away from finding out that his middle child was a dominant omega."
"If you think a piece of paper was enough to keep me away from what I wanted," Adonis said mildly, his tone almost conversational, "then you don’t know me at all."
He finally lifted the glass, took a measured sip, and let the taste linger as his eyes remained on Adelaide, weighing her rather than the words she had offered. "Claude’s will didn’t protect his children," he continued. "It only postponed inconvenient truths."
Adelaide’s smile faltered, though she tried to recover it quickly, adjusting her posture as if that might compensate.
"The boy hid himself," Adonis went on, unhurried. "From the family. From the court. Even from Andrew." A low, humorless chuckle escaped him. "That takes more than fear. It takes discipline. A very deliberate understanding of when to be seen and when to disappear."
He set the glass aside again, untouched after that single sip, as though the ritual mattered more than the drink itself.
"And now," he added, his gaze drifting briefly toward the center of the gala where Christopher stood under quiet but unmistakable protection, "Andrew Black, now Milo’s moral heir, if not the one he planned for, has risen to my level in a matter of months. A viscount. Practically overnight." His mouth curved faintly. "That does not happen by accident."
Adelaide followed his gaze, her expression tightening despite herself. "Christopher is... well guarded."
"Yes," Adonis agreed, softly. "Which tells me exactly how valuable he is."
He leaned back slightly, one arm resting against the chair, posture relaxed but intentional, as though he had all the time in the world. "Claude spent his life hiding his children from scrutiny. Andrew inherited influence. Mia inherited charm." His eyes narrowed just enough to signal focus. "Christopher inherited leverage."
She hesitated, searching his face. "You don’t sound impressed."
"I’m not," Adonis said calmly. "Impressed would suggest surprise. This is simply confirmation."
Adelaide drew a careful breath. "If you wished to speak to him..."
"I don’t," Adonis interrupted gently, not unkindly, but with finality. "Not yet."
He turned his attention back to her then, studying her with a precision that made it clear this, too, was an evaluation. "If you want my interest, Lady Adelaide, repeating fragments of conversation will not suffice. Christopher Malek is untouchable under Dax’s protection, and everyone in this room understands that."
He paused, allowing the weight of the room to settle around them: the music, the laughter, the carefully curated calm.
"But protection," he added, more quietly, "is not the same as isolation."
Adelaide swallowed, the sound barely audible.
"If you intend to be useful," Adonis finished, "you will need to do more than observe. You will need to move with intention."
"And if I can’t?" she asked.
Adonis’s expression remained unchanged, his attention already drifting back to the greater board. "Then this conversation ends here."
He leaned back, the decision made, as the gala continued to glitter around them, unaware that Adonis Malek was no longer watching the spectacle itself.
He was watching the pressure points beneath it, patient enough to wait for the first fracture.
—
The feeling came without warning.
It was not fear, exactly, nor the sharp edge of danger Chris had learned to recognize and catalogue. It was subtler than that, a slow, unpleasant awareness creeping up his spine, the unmistakable sense of being observed.
Chris did not turn.
He kept his posture relaxed, shoulders easy, expression composed in the way court life demanded, even as his attention sharpened inward. The gala continued around him, music swelling, laughter chiming, glasses clinking, but something in the air had shifted, and he trusted that instinct far more than spectacle.
Rowan noticed before Chris spoke.
The perimeter tightened almost imperceptibly, guards adjusting their spacing by inches, sightlines narrowing without drawing attention. Rowan did not hover. He simply existed where he was most needed, his presence calibrated to signal protection.
Dax was away only briefly, pulled into conversation by necessity rather than choice, and Chris was acutely aware of that absence. Not because he felt unprotected, but because whoever was watching him would notice it too.
Across the room, Mia stiffened.
Chris caught it in his peripheral vision, the way her gaze locked onto a familiar figure near the edge of the crowd, the sharpness that replaced her social smile in an instant. Adelaide Malek.
Mia leaned in, voice low. "Do you want me to..."
"No," Chris said quietly, not looking at her.
She paused, clearly surprised.
"I see her," he added, still calm. "And I want to see what she does."
Mia studied his face, searching for hesitation, then exhaled through her nose. "You’re enjoying this."
"I’m curious," Chris corrected. "There’s a difference."
His gaze lifted at last, sweeping the room with deliberate casualness, and for just a fraction of a second, he let himself meet the direction of that attention.
Whoever it was, they were watching carefully.
’Good,’
Chris thought.
’Let them.’
Rowan shifted closer, just enough to remind anyone paying attention that Chris was not alone. The message was clear without being loud.
Mia leaned back, arms folding loosely. "The Maleks never move without an angle."
"I know," Chris said softly. "That’s why I’m letting them."
He took a sip of his drink, the gesture unhurried, and allowed the faintest curve of a smile to touch his mouth.
’Let them plan,’
he thought.