As she settled against the pillows, her mind drifted to tomorrow’s challenges. She would prove to Leander that hiring her had been the right decision, and would demonstrate that she could handle whatever corporate demands he threw her way. And tomorrow evening, she would face Damian with polite but firm resolve, explaining that her focus needed to remain on her career rather than romantic entanglements.
The decision felt right, responsible, and mature.
Yet as sleep began to claim her, one rebellious thought surfaced with startling clarity. If she were going to explore romantic feelings with anyone, it would be with the green-eyed Alpha who saw her as more than a beautiful ornament to be displayed.
Foolish,she told herself firmly.He’s your boss.
But her heart had never been particularly good at following rules.
SIX
LEANDER
Leander stood before the polished mahogany door of the St. James penthouse, the scent of chicken soup wrapping the air around the paper bag in his hand. The doorman’s confused expression as he’d been waved through still lingered in his mind. He’d told himself this was a practical gesture for an employer, and his duty after shocking Camille with the truth of what he was. The lie felt thin even to him.
The truth was he needed to see her, to confirm with his own eyes that the paleness had left her cheeks, and that the shock in her blue eyes had settled into something resembling peace.
Her quiet acceptance of his shifter nature—not fear, not revulsion—by the time he’d escorted her home earlier that day had carved a fissure straight through his emotional armor.
He knocked once, the sound sharp in the quiet hallway.
The door opened not to Camille’s soft features, but to a wall of polished, calculating elegance. Reginald St. James stood framed in the doorway, his salt-and-pepper hair impeccable and his tailored suit a declaration of old money. Just behind him, Vivienne St. James materialized, her ice-blue eyes sweeping over Leander with the speed of an appraisal.
Recognition dawned in their expressions, surprise instantly buried beneath a veneer of social opportunism.
“Mr. Drake,” Reginald said, his voice a baritone of practiced welcome. “This is unexpected.”
“Leander, please.” He shifted the bag slightly, the gesture feeling absurdly domestic. “I apologize for the intrusion. Camille wasn’t feeling well earlier. I wanted to ensure she was recovering.”
Vivienne’s smile was a masterpiece of cordiality. “How thoughtful of you. Please, come in.”
They ushered him into a foyer that gleamed with cold perfection—marble floors, a cascading crystal chandelier, and art chosen for investment value rather than joy. The air smelled of lemon polish and distant flowers. His attention snapped past them as movement came from the arched doorway to the living room. Camille appeared, dressed in blue silk pajamas, her blonde hair tumbling loose around her shoulders. She looked younger, softer, breathtakingly real against the sterile backdrop of her parents’ world. Relief, warm and immediate, flooded his chest at the sight of her upright.
“Leander,” she said, her voice a mixture of surprise and something warmer. “You didn’t have to come all the way over.”
“I said I would check on you.” His gaze held hers, shutting out the room. “I keep my promises.”
Before she could respond, Vivienne smoothly inserted herself between their sightline. “We were just discussing the volatility in the commercial real estate market, Leander. Your insights on the Lexington project would be appreciated. I understand you’re navigating some interesting hurdles?”
Leander watched Camille’s smile tighten at the edges, a subtle flinch she hid behind a slow blink. Her parents had clearly not asked her how she felt today. Let alone even acknowledged her presence in the room. They were too focused on him.
His lion snarled internally, a vibration of pure disapproval. The instinct to bare teeth, to place his body between Camille and this emotional neglect, was nearly overwhelming.
“Everything is proceeding fine,” he said, his voice deliberately neutral. He stepped around Vivienne, closing the distance to Camille, and set the warm paper bag gently on a nearby table. “But that’s not why I’m here. Camille, the soup is from Pierre. He swore it has restorative properties.”
Her eyes met his, gratitude shimmering in their blue depths. “Thank you. That’s… incredibly kind.”
Reginald cleared his throat, reclaiming the conversational reins. “Kindness is a rare commodity in business. Which reminds me, your company’s recent merger with TechVantage—a bold move. We should discuss a potential introduction to the board at St. James Capital.”
That was it. The last thread of his civility snapped.
Leander turned, his posture straightening to its full, dominant height. The air in the room seemed to still and sharpen. “With respect,” he said, the words dropping like stones into the polite silence, “your daughter left work today because she nearly fainted. My concern is her well-being, not a board introduction. Perhaps your attention would be better directed with her.”
The temperature in the room plummeted. Vivienne’s perfectly composed face froze, then fractured with offended disbelief. Reginald’s practiced mask slipped into stern disapproval.
“I beg your pardon?” Vivienne’s voice was chilled steel. “Our attention isn’t your business. We hardly need instruction from a… business acquaintance on how to care for our family.”
“He’s my boss, Mother,” Camille interjected softly, but the correction was swept aside.
