"Miss Tillman," John said, his voice smooth and rehearsed. "I'm here to make a custom jewelry set for my mom's birthday next month." I'd prefer something nice, something classy.
His eyes sparkled with mischief, just like they did last night when he said he would walk me home. It was clear that he didn't need money. But he didn't truly desire jewelry. It was me.
A client was still a client, though.
"Of course," I answered with a polite nod. "Grace, could you please bring in some coffee and a plate of fruit?"
Before departing, Grace gave me a knowing look and left me alone with him.
I turned back to John and smiled at him like I had done before. "Does your mom have any preferences? Do you have any favorite colors, stones, or styles? Maybe jade? Or glass? Or would she rather have diamonds?
"Diamonds," he said, a sneer on his face. "The bigger and flashier, the better."
Sure.
"Okay," I said quietly as I wrote down notes. "I'll come up with some design ideas and bring them to her house in three days." Is that going to work?
There was a gloom behind his smile. "Actually, I'd rather you bring it to me directly since this is a surprise." Just so she doesn't see it too soon.
As I looked over the papers in front of me, I could feel his eyes on me. My instincts were on edge, like a wolf suspicious of the fire beneath his interest, yet every part of me stayed calm and collected.
"Of course, President Curtis. I'll get in touch with you when the drafts are done.
He leaned forward and put his forearms on the table. "Are you free around noon?" I'd love to take you out to lunch.
That was his genuine reason.
I didn't move. I wasn't stupid; I knew exactly what game he was playing. But I wasn't willing to let my pride get in the way of a good business deal either.
"Of course," I answered with ease. "I really like the restaurant across the street from my office." I'll get a table for two.
He smiled, which was an obvious sign that he was happy. "Great. I'm going to wait.
I rose up and pointed to the lounge. "You can wait in there." "It's quieter."
As soon as he left, I took a deep breath and went to tell Felicia about the transaction. When she heard how much it was, her eyes brightened up.
"Make sure you lock this up, Anastasia," she replied with a grin. "That set will make a lot of money."
Sure it would. That's the only reason I said yes to lunch.
By lunchtime, I was sitting across from John in a fancy, modern restaurant, drinking water as he talked and talked about his company's growth, his real estate holdings, his imported sports vehicle, and everything else he thought would impress me.
I nodded at the correct moments and smiled when I needed to, but inside I was already figuring out how long I had to remain before I could leave without being rude. My wolf yawned because it was bored.
He wasn't a horrible guy, but there was nothing true about his charm—no soul, no bite. He was simply another well-dressed man playing the long game.
Finally, I put down my napkin and remarked, "I have a meeting this afternoon." "I need to go."
John blinked, evidently disturbed by the sudden interruption, but he immediately hid it. "Of course." "Let me walk you back."
I didn't fight. It's better to end it properly than to keep on.
It felt like refreshing rain on my skin when I stepped back into Bourgeois. I could finally take a breath again.
I took off my heels and got back to work in my office, putting lunch out of my mind and focusing on my next design draft.
Elliot picked up his phone in a secluded office that smelled like strength and restraint, far away from the building.
And called.
I didn't know who he was phoning. But if I had paid more attention, I may have heard the calm storm rising behind the glossy glass of his office. It always seemed to rise when he thought about me.
Elliot's words sounded like a deep growl in my ears, like a warning. "Do you know Anastasia Tillman?"
"Why do you want to know about her?" Nigel's voice came through the pack link. It was bright, funny, and ignorant.
Elliot snapped, "She came to the show under your name," not one to circle prey. Always right to the throat.
"Ohhh," Nigel laughed, not at all bothered. "So you finally saw her. Yes, Anastasia and I are good friends. "Very close."
I froze where I was, claws threatening to break through my skin.
"Isn't she beautiful?" Nigel kept on, as if he didn't feel the stress in the bond.
"Are you trying to have sex with her?" I said the words before I could calm down my voice.
"She's not someone you can just catch and cage, Elliot," Nigel replied, sounding like he was giving up. "I've been after her for three years. Not even close yet. She treats the friend zone like it's sacred ground.
My wolf's hair stood on end. Three years. He had been with her for three years, hearing her laugh, tasting her scent, and being close to her when she was undoubtedly at her most vulnerable. My molars hurt because I clenched my jaw so tightly.
"How did you get to know her?" I asked in a voice that sounded like ice.
"Do you remember my accident? The one when my automobile turned over and blew up?
I remembered. All the horrible details. The broken pieces. The blaze. The awful quiet before the ambulance's siren broke the air.
Nigel said, "She pulled me out." "I would have died in that explosion if she hadn't pulled me to safety."
I stopped. Anastasia had been there? The rescuer of my pack brother?
The Presgraves owed her a life. Honor, blood, and debt meant something in our world. Maybe fate.
"She's a tough one," Nigel said, almost in a gentle voice. "She doesn't even know how strong she is."
I didn't say anything; I just let his words hang in the air like smoke.
"I'll be back soon," he said again. "And I'm getting a job at Bourgeois so I can be close to her."
A snarl came up in my throat.
I responded sharply, "You're coming back to take over the pack's legacy, not to chase after a woman."
But Nigel only laughed. "Please do me a favor, okay? Watch her until I get there.
Before I could answer, he ended the link. I looked at my phone as if it had burned me. My wolf was pacing inside me, angry and agitated. Nigel. Anastasia. Fate was mean.
Three days later, I smelled her before I saw her. It was honeysuckle and something wild that I couldn't put my finger on. She was next to Felicia's desk, clutching a portfolio. Self-assured, graceful, and deadly in her own way.
When she spoke on the phone, her voice was steady. "I've finished the draft, President Curtis." When do you want me to bring it to you?
Before John answered, I heard the sound of a car engine far away. He said, "Still on the road." Not coming back until seven. "Can you bring it to my house at eight tonight?"
I got tense. She did too.
"Tonight?" There was a tremor in her voice. Not very much. But I heard it.
She didn't want to be alone with him at night. And that made something inside me turn. Possessiveness rose. Safety. The impulse to find her and tell her she didn't have to go anyplace alone, not while I was here. Not when I could already smell her on my bones.
But I stayed still. Looking. Waiting.
This was no longer merely a commercial matter.
This was a conflict of gut feelings.
And I wasn't going to give up. Not to chance. Not to Nigel. Not to anyone.
Not when the tie between mates was drawing her to me.