“He’ll find me,” she spat into the black. “You won’t get away with this.”
His laugh was low and humorless. “I’ll get away with anything I want. And let him try to find you. Killing him, removing that obstacle… it will be satisfying in more ways than one. I’ll finally get the Alpha title he stole from me years ago. And I’ll get the girl I wanted before he ever stepped into the picture and ruined my future.”
His toxic confession poured from his mouth, the words spilling out as the SUV ate up the miles. “You are the perfect piece, Camille. Marrying you will give me every connection and every social key I need. Our children will cement my legacy.” He paused, clearly pleased with his vision. “But I have to admit… this is better. Now I have a legitimate reason to kill Leander. A challenge for his mate. For his pride. Thank you, actually. Your reckless little deviation made my future so much brighter.”
Her stomach turned. He saw her only as a strategic piece and a provocation. Her worth was measured in what she could trigger and what she could help him destroy.
Hours passed in the rattling dark. Then, the scent hit her—salty, clean, familiar. The sea air of the Hamptons. Her sanctuary had become his hunting ground.
The SUV soon stopped. Rough hands pulled her out, her heels sinking into soft earth. The air was cooler here, laced with pine and damp soil. The memory surfaced from Saturday: the path through the woods with Leander, the dappled sunlight, his hand in hers.
The Hamptons. Near the woods.
She focused the thought, sharp as a dart, and sent it flying down the mate bond. The response was instantaneous—a volcanic surge of fury, a protectiveness so fierce it stole her breath, and then, clear as if he stood beside her, a psychic command that vibrated in her very bones.
Hold on. I’m coming for you.
Damian propelled her forward. A wooden step, the groan of a door hinge, and then the enclosed scent of old oak and wood smoke. A cabin. He pushed her, and she landed on something lumpy and upholstered—a couch.
“Welcome to your new home,” Damian said, his voice echoing in a small space. “At least until you decide being with me is the right thing to do. And until I finally kill Leander.”
“He’s stronger than you,” she said, yanking the blindfold off. They were in a rustic, single-room cabin, sparsely furnished and shrouded in gloom. “He’ll tear you apart.”
“We’ll see about that. I have something to fight for now that I didn’t before.” His gaze swept over her, possessive and greedy.
The bad feeling in her chest crystallized into a cold, hard knot. This wasn’t just about control anymore. It was about annihilation. Her parents had handed her to a man who wanted to use her as bait in a war for dominance.
The fear didn’t vanish, but it was suddenly flanked by a hotter, brighter emotion. Rage. A pure, undiluted fury thatburned away the last traces of the obedient heiress. They thought they could box her in, trade her like stock, force her into a life that was a beautiful, empty shell.
No more.
She wouldn’t let them. She wouldn’t be Damian’s prize or her parents’ puppet. One way or another, she would get out. She would fight. And she would make sure Leander didn’t have to face this monster alone.
EIGHTEEN
LEANDER
The mahogany conference table stretched before Leander like a battlefield, its polished surface reflecting the faces of twelve board members whose expressions ranged from skeptical to intrigued. The morning light pouring through the windows should have felt triumphant—this was the moment he’d been building toward since Camille had walked into his life a week ago.
“Gentlemen,” Leander said, his voice holding the authority that had built Drake Holdings into Manhattan’s premier development firm. “What you’re looking at isn’t just architectural revision. It’s evolution.”
He gestured toward the large monitor displaying Camille’s marked-up blueprints for the Lexington project. Her handwriting covered the margins in precise, elegant script, each note a small revolution in thinking. Where his original design had emphasized steel and glass efficiency, her modifications breathed warmth into the structure—courtyards that invited natural light, communal spaces that fostered connection, and rooftop gardens that married luxury with sustainability.
“Miss St. James has identified seventeen areas where we can enhance both aesthetic appeal and functional efficiency,”Leander continued, his pride in her work evident. “Her background in architecture, combined with her instinct for what people actually want to live and work in, has elevated this project beyond anything we’ve achieved before.”
Board member Harrison Smith leaned forward, his silver eyebrows raised. “These modifications would add significant cost to construction.”
“And triple the property values,” Leander countered smoothly. “Her vision transforms a luxury building into a destination. People won’t just buy units—they’ll fight for the privilege.”
Travis caught his eye from across the table, offering a subtle nod of encouragement. The numbers spoke for themselves, but Leander knew this wasn’t just about profit margins. This was about securing Camille’s place in his world permanently, professionally as well as personally.
“The woman has an eye,” admitted Tanner Channing, studying the blueprints with obvious appreciation. “These design elements would photograph beautifully for marketing.”
A ripple of chuckles moved around the table. Leander seized the moment.
“Imagine what she could accomplish if brought in from the beginning of a project, not just for revision. Her mind works differently than ours—she sees spaces as living entities, not just profitable square footage. Drake Holdings could become the firm that doesn’t just build luxury—we create experiences.”
The energy in the room shifted. He could see it in their faces—the dawning recognition that Camille represented more than just a talented addition to the team. She was a competitive advantage.
