Married My Ex's Alpha Uncle by Aurora Starling

Silver's POV

I was shocked when Elliot suggested I use him as his model. After the fiasco last night, I was going to ask him again to model for me.

When Leo brought me some of the paintings I left at my father's house, I was surprised when I saw the painting of Gavin in the middle of them. I remembered painting it a couple of years ago when we first met. It was meant as a gift, but I was too nervous to give it to him, so I hid it in my closet.

My cheeks flushed at the thought of my father finding it. However, knowing how popular Gavin was around our packs, especially with women, I figured this painting would go well at the auction.

I spoke to Mariah, the head chef, earlier today while she was making lunch, and she mentioned that I should just ask Elliot once more to be my model.

"He might surprise you," she had said just as she poured me a bowl of beef stew.

Mariah was a wise middle-aged woman who had worked for the Crown family for a long time. As Elliot previously mentioned, she was one of the best cooks in the region. She was not only the head chef at the mansion, but she was also in charge of the kitchen at the packhouse. She had employees that cooked the food at the packhouse though, and she would often go back and forth between the two places. Mariah also owned a couple of 5-star restaurants that she would often check on and work at between her busy schedules. She was the busiest woman I knew. She travels around the packs often for work, which means she gets most of the gossip up front.

for so long, she also knew Elliot better than anyone. I enjoyed talking to

his soft interior. And I think he might have a soft spot for you," she said,

at her

Mariah knew that this was a marriage of convenience, as did Beta Leo and Gamma Erik. My mind shifted back to the present moment as I stood in front of

finally asked him, feeling suddenly

My heart nearly leaped into my throat as his abs were revealed to me. He slowly slid his shirt off his body and placed it on the chair on top of his jacket. "Do artists usually have nude models for painting? Do you like that?" He asked,

reached for the belt on his pants

said quickly. "You can

chair, forcing him to sit; my fingers brushing across his shoulders, sending shivers throughout my body. His body visibly tensed from my touch and his eyes shifted to meet mine. Clearing my throat, I turned away from him

along with my stool, and

my seat and getting to work. With a racing

watched me, his eyes dark, and his face curious. I wondered briefly what he was thinking; his eyes were fixed on my features, and I tried not to notice it, but it was difficult when half of this job was to examine his every