“Gracey, no interruptions, please. And could you please arrange a quick meeting after this with my security team and whoever was on duty downstairs.”
I don’t need to explain myself further. Gracey is exceptional at what she does. If I’m short or sharp with her, it rolls off her back because she knows we’re in work mode. Work mode is a good disguise for locking down the way Ramses’ scent threatens to wreck me too. I take my time until I lean over the back of my chair to stare him down.
“Mr—?” I ask coldly.
“Denali,” Ramses offers without moving an inch.
“Nice. Well, Mr. Denali, you can get your lying ass off my furniture.”
I expect more push back, but Ramses stands to his feet, surprising me. “Heidi.”
“No,” I answer, shaking my head to cut him off. “You don’t get to say my name. What do you want? And don’t bother with anything aside from work. The only thing I want from you is an explanation to why you think you should be allowed one minute of my time.”
He doesn’t look away from me, but he doesn’t make eye-contact when he speaks. For an Alpha, I know how difficult that must be. For my scent-matched Alpha, I’m sure it’s even harder, but it’s not as hard as it is for me standing in front of him again.
He slides over a hard drive across my desk. “This contains some pretty incriminating information.”
I hum dismissively.
“But it’s yours….” I can see him stumble over not calling me my name and not looking at me when he talks but he pushes past it. “Yours to do with what you want. What we did…”
I flick my hand out to stop him rambling. “Stick to the facts.”
“The hard drive I hope gives you some peace.”
“Well, let’s not jump ahead of ourselves, shall we? I mean for me to need peace I’d first have to be distraught. For the record, I’m down the other end of the emotional spectrum. Anything else?” I ask sharply, praying he doesn’t call me out.
He doesn’t. He also doesn’t look at me as I keep staring him down. I dissect him like you would a bug. Looking over every inch of him trying to find something off-putting. Sadly, Ramses has very few external flaws. He looks like he always did: like he was made for me.
He interrupts gently. “Heidi.” His eyes fly to mine before they fall away again. “I know you don’t want to hear an apology.”
“Hmph, there you go making assumptions again, Mr. Denali.”
“I was going to say, I am sorry though. I’m sorry for what we did. I know…”
“You don’t know. I thought I was getting to know you. I think it’s pretty safe to assume,” I hiss the word at him, “that you and I are entirely different people.”
“You’re wrong. We’re so similar it’s ridiculous.”
“Bullshit. I’d never fucking drug someone. But you did. Even knowing what happened to me years ago, you fucking drugged me and left me alone. Completely vulnerable without being able to stay fucking awake, let alone defend myself if I had to,” I snap, and all the pent up hurt I was feeling explodes out of me in a vicious spray.
I watch his face pale. His eyes drop and despite the regret he feels it doesn’t change how much that single act gutted me. I continue staring daggers at him as he keeps his gaze averted. I share with him in both my scent and my mood exactly how little I think of him and his actions. I know he feels it all because he leaks sadness. But is it sadness at being caught?
“I take full responsibility,” he says, keeping his eyes on the ground.
“How noble of you,” I hiss.
“Heidi,” he whispers. “I made a really fucking bad decision. I know that. And I wish I had a better explanation for why I chose drugging you as an option than how I justified it then. We had to go because of an emergency, we couldn’t take you. Only the Council and your lawyer knew where you were, not even your security. We hadn’t told anyone, so the risk of anyone finding you there was less than zero. You were safe.”
“Clearly not. The fucking danger to my welfare was you, Ramses.”
He closes his eyes and nods his head before he takes an overly large inhale and a slow exhale. “I can only apologise. I acted impulsively and let my Alpha drive the situation. If we had been there when you woke up, you never would have known.”
“So, it’s my fault?” I laugh, but not the funny ha-ha kind. No, my laugh is so full of condescending bitch, I half feel sorry for him.
“Not at all,” he says, and I can feel how torn up he is after what he did. “I wish I could explain how sorry I am.”
“Well, I wish you could explain why you fucking drugged me!” I scream at him.
