“Assistant?” Damian laughed, but the sound held no humor. “That’s beneath someone of her caliber, don’t you think? I thought she was destined to run her mother’s charity foundation.”
“Why do you suddenly care what Camille does?” The question emerged rougher than intended.
Damian’s smile turned predatory. “Because I’m courting her now. Her parents introduced us two nights ago.”
The world tilted.
Rage—primal, violent, and utterly consuming—exploded through Leander’s chest like molten steel. His vision turned red as his lion surged forward with territorial fury.
She’s MINE.
The mate bond pulsed with absolute certainty, recognizing the threat for exactly what it was. Damian wasn’t just a business rival anymore. He was competition for his fated mate, a predator circling what belonged to Leander by right of bond and instinct and something deeper than either of them.
His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white with the effort of restraining himself from reaching across the space betweenthem and showing Damian exactly what happened to rivals who threatened what was his.
Control.
“Excuse me,” Leander managed, his voice barely steady. “I have an emergency to handle.”
He stood with deliberate precision, every movement calculated to prevent the explosion building in him from manifesting in violence that would destroy more than just this lunch.
Damian’s satisfied smirk followed him as he walked away, but Leander didn’t trust himself to look back. One more second in that chair, one more word about Camille from Damian’s mouth, and he would have done something that couldn’t be undone.
The walk back to Drake Holdings felt endless, every step accompanied by the thunderous realization that everything had changed. Damian wasn’t just pursuing business leverage—he was pursuing Camille. Pursuing Leander’s mate.
His lion paced nonstop, protective instinct sharpening into something unyielding and absolute. The careful restraint he had spent years perfecting felt suddenly irrelevant in the face of this threat.
Damian Cross would not touch what was his. Not socially. Not romantically. Not in any world where Leander still drew breath.
The doors of Drake Holdings came into view, and with them, one truth settled with crystalline clarity. He would protect Camille from Damian—from anyone who threatened her—even if it meant dismantling every wall he had built to keep himself safe.
FIVE
CAMILLE
The contractor had been pacing Camille’s assistant office for fifteen minutes while his voice grew increasingly agitated. She sat behind her desk, her fingers gripping her tablet with white-knuckled determination as she tried to project competence she didn’t entirely feel.
“Look, miss, I don’t know who you think you are, but I’ve got a crew sitting idle and losing money every minute we’re not swinging hammers.” Jake Morrison was built like the buildings he demolished—broad, weathered, and unmovable. His hard hat dangled from one meaty fist while he gestured with the other. “Your boss said demolition starts today on the east building. Not next week.”
Camille forced her voice to remain steady despite the flutter of panic in her chest. This was only her second day, and already she was drowning in corporate waters she had never navigated. Her architecture degree felt suddenly theoretical against the reality of angry contractors and permit confusion.
“I understand your frustration, Mr. Morrison. There must be some kind of error in the documentation. Mr. Drake is incredibly detail-oriented—he wouldn’t have made a mistake about something this important.”
Jake snorted, clearly unimpressed by her defense of Leander’s reputation. “Detail-oriented, huh? Then why am I standing here with a permit that says one thing and a schedule that says another?”
Heat crawled up Camille’s neck. In the charity foundation world, disagreements were handled with polite smiles and careful diplomacy. Here, men like Jake expected immediate solutions from people who knew what they were talking about. She was an heiress playing at being an assistant, and it showed today.
Think, Camille. Use your brain, not your pedigree.
“Let me pull up the permit files on my tablet,” she said, her fingers already moving across the screen. “Maybe we can figure this out together.”
The digital folders appeared with a few taps. She navigated to the Lexington project files, scanning through permits until she found the demolition authorization for the east building.
“Here it is.” She turned the tablet toward Jake, her voice gaining confidence. “East building demolition, scheduled for today. You’re absolutely right.”
Jake leaned forward, squinting at the screen. His expression shifted from irritation to confusion, then to something resembling embarrassment.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” He reached into his leather portfolio and pulled out a crumpled permit. “I brought the wrong one to the job site. This is for the west building—next week’s project.”
