Chapter 0025
“Enough,” my voice hardened, slapping the papers onto his desk to his brooding smirk. “What exactly do you want from me?” I demanded, planting my hands to his massive desk.
He leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. The sharp line of his jaw clenched slightly, and for a brief moment, I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the way the light played across his features the curve of his cheekbone, the shadow along his jawline, the tousle of his dark hair that somehow looked effortlessly perfect. I
hated him.
“I’ve made my intentions clear from the start,” he said, his deep voice as smooth as velvet but undercut with an edge of steel. “I want you to stay. I want you to be Owen’s doctor.”
My anger flared, heating my skin. “I, we’ve, told you, that impossible,” I snapped, my knuckles turning white against the wood.
He snorted conceded, then reached into a drawer and pulled out a crisp document, placing it deliberately on the desk between us.
“Take a look,” he said, his tone infuriatingly calm. “Then you can make your decision.”
I hesitated. My hands trembled, betraying the storm raging inside me, his gaze boring in mine. After a long moment, I snatched the paper from the desk and unfolded it, forcing my eyes to scan the words.
It was a proposal. A detailed partnership for children like Owen–children with autism and other illnesses that affected werewolves. And the kicker? I would lead the entire project. With a near unlimited budget.
My stomach twisted painfully.
It was everything I’d ever dreamed of a chance to expand my work at the hospital, to help more children, to truly make a difference. But coming from him, it felt like a cruel joke.
All this… for what? Was this how far was he willing to go for Sophia and their child? And for me? He’d never even
I clenched the edge of the document.
Even if I said no, it wouldn’t end here. He would never stop. Alexander was relentless, always calculating, always one step ahead. He would keep coming, circling, until my resolve finally shattered and he could pounce.
I knew this about him. I had no leverage. No way to fight back that wouldn’t cost me everything I held dear.
And if it had to be this way, if he had to be a part of my life again–entwining himself into my world like a thread I couldn’t unravel–then maybe this was the best deal I could get.
I swallowed hard, my eyes flicking back to his. He was watching me intently, his expression unreadable, but there was something simmering beneath the surface–something dangerous, something…familiar.
“I don’t trust you,” I said quietly.
His lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile. “You don’t have to trust me,” he murmured, his voice dipping into a tone that wrapped around me like a velvet snare. “You just have to decide.”
Decide? As if I had a choice.
The silence stretched taut between us, a loaded pause where the air seemed to shift. My hand betrayed me before my heart could catch up, moving on its own. The pen scratched against the paper, my signature jagged and trembling.
1025 BONUS:
When I finally looked up, his smite deepened. He leaned back, exuding a quiet triumph.
I look forward to working with you, Lauren,” he said. The way he said my name It was intimate, sharp, and Impossible to ignore.
Before I could summon the strength to respond, my phone buzzed in my pocket, breaking the spell. I tore my gaze from his, turning to answer.
“Hello? Daphne?”
canc
Mommy, when are you coming home?” Abigall’s soft, sweet voice came through the line, her innocence cutting
- me.
My breath hitched, panic rising unbidden. I hung up, my movements abrupt and clumsy. My chest tightened as I fought the instinct to turn around.
But I could feel it the weight of his gaze on my back, heavy and probing. The silence behind me was deafening. When I finally gathered the courage to look over my shoulder, his expression had shifted.
His dark brows drew together, his jaw taut as if he were holding something back. “You have a child?” he asked, his voice quieter now, but the edge in it was sharp enough to cut.
I bit my lip hard, holding his gaze even as my heart screamed at me to look away.
“Whose child?” he pressed.
The intensity in his dark eyes pinned me in place, his presence overpowering, suffocating. Every inch of him–his broad shoulders, the way his tailored suit stretched across his chest, the inky waves of his hair falling just so–felt designed to drown me.
But it was the raw, unguarded fire in his eyes that burned through me, unraveling my resolve strand by strand.
“Lauren,” he demanded again, his voice dropping low. “Whose child?”
