Camille smiled, warmth blooming in her chest at his praise. “I’m excited to see how it develops. The natural light integration alone will transform the entire feel of the space.”
“You have a gift for seeing possibilities others miss.” His voice carried that low, rumbling quality that made her pulse quicken. “If I had known how talented you were, I would have hired you sooner and brought you onto this project from the beginning.”
The compliment sent pleasure coursing through her, but underneath it lurked the weight of what she’d discovered earlier. She took a steadying breath, knowing she couldn’t avoid the conversation any longer.
“Damian texted me today.”
The change in Leander was instant and dramatic. His jaw clenched, the relaxed set of his shoulders transforming into rigid tension. His green eyes flashed with something dangerous—protective and possessive in equal measure.
“You should block his number immediately.” The command came out sharp.
“I did block him after his last message,” Camille said quickly, recognizing the alpha dominance rising in him and wanting to defuse it before he could spiral into full protective mode. “I didn’t want to be harassed further. But he did mention something before I cut contact.”
Leander’s grip tightened on his fork. “What was that?”
Camille chose her words carefully, watching his face for signs of how to proceed. “He said you were involved in a situation where you killed a man.”
The reaction was immediate and devastating. Every trace of warmth vanished from Leander’s expression, replaced by the cold, controlled mask she’d seen glimpses of in their early interactions. His emotional walls slammed shut so forcefully she could practically hear them locking into place.
“I don’t want to discuss that tonight.” His voice had gone flat—the tone he might use with a difficult client. “We should focus on enjoying each other and the food and our weekend ahead.”
The dismissal stung, but more than that, it worried her. She’d seen the pain that flickered across his features when she’d touched his scar, and had sensed the deep wounds he carried beneath his controlled exterior. This wasn’t about satisfying her curiosity—this was about understanding the man she was falling for.
“Leander, I found the articles about what happened twelve years ago,” she said gently, leaning forward to close some of the distance he’d created between them. “It doesn’t frighten me. I just wanted to understand, to support you the way you’ve been supporting me.”
His green eyes remained shuttered, giving nothing away. “There’s nothing to understand. It’s in the past.”
The finality in his tone told her she’d hit a wall she couldn’t breach tonight. Disappointment settled heavy in her chest, but she recognized the signs of someone protecting themselves from pain. She’d worn those same defensive masks for years.
Forcing a smile, she redirected the conversation to safer ground. “Tell me about your mother. What should I expect when we get to the Hamptons?”
The shift in topic worked like magic. Some of the tension eased from Leander’s shoulders, and genuine affection softened his features.
“She’s going to love you,” he said, his voice warming. “But fair warning—she’s been waiting for me to bring someone home for years. She might be a little overwhelming in her enthusiasm.”
“What’s she like?”
“Fierce, intelligent, completely unimpressed by wealth or status.” A small smile played at the corners of his mouth. “She’ll probably interrogate you about your intentions toward her son.”
Camille laughed, some of the earlier tension dissolving. “Good thing my intentions are honorable.”
The remainder of dinner passed in easier conversation, but Camille couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d glimpsed something crucial about Leander tonight—and that whatever had happened twelve years ago was still shaping every decision he made.
Thirty minutes later, she stood in the guest room of his penthouse, folding clothes into her suitcase for their weekend getaway. Through the open doorway, she could hear Leander moving around his bedroom, and anticipation fluttered in her stomach at the thought of three days away from the city. Three days away from work pressures, Damian’s interference, and her family drama she hadn’t fully dealt with yet.
Maybe in the quiet of the Hamptons, she’d find a way to reach the man behind those carefully constructed walls. And when she did, maybe she would finally throw all caution aside and choose this mate bond and a future with him.
TWELVE
LEANDER
The gravel crunched beneath the tires of Leander’s Range Rover as they approached the familiar wrought-iron gates of the Drake family estate. Ancient oak trees lined the winding drive, their branches creating a canopy that filtered the morning sunlight into dancing patterns across the windshield. The sight should have brought the usual sense of homecoming, but instead, tension coiled tight in Leander’s shoulders like a spring wound too far.
He’d maintained careful distance from Camille all night—not physically, because his lion refused to let her sleep anywhere but curled against his chest—but emotionally. The walls he’d spent twelve years perfecting had slammed shut the moment she’d mentioned his father’s murder at dinner, and now guilt gnawed at him with relentless teeth. She’d offered comfort, understanding, the very vulnerability he craved but couldn’t accept, and he’d responded like the coward he was.
Damian’s poisonous influence was clear as daylight. The bastard knew exactly which emotional wounds to target, and how to weaponize perception and twist truth into something ugly. Paint Leander as a cold-blooded murderer, make Camille question her safety, drive a wedge between them before theirbond could strengthen beyond breaking. It was a calculated move from someone who understood pride dynamics and human psychology in equal measure.
But Camille hadn’t fallen for it. His brilliant, perceptive mate had seen through the manipulation immediately, choosing instead to offer support rather than suspicion. The realization only made his cowardice sting worse.
