“You’re proposing then to make your fiancée a board member?” asked David Rothschild, his tone carefully neutral. “That’s... unprecedented.”
“I’m proposing to make a brilliant architect my equal business partner,” Leander corrected, his green eyes flashing with conviction. “The fact that she’s also the woman I intend to marry is secondary to her qualifications. Though I’ll admit the symmetry appeals to me.”
Another wave of knowing smiles. These men understood the value of keeping exceptional talent close.
Sterling cleared his throat. “We’d need to vote, of course?—”
The words died as pain exploded across Leander’s chest. Not his pain—hers. The mate bond, which had been humming with Camille’s focused energy all morning, suddenly screamed with terror so acute it nearly drove him to his knees.
His hand shot to his chest instinctively. Around the table, concerned murmurs rose as his face went white.
Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.
The rational part of his mind cataloged possibilities—an argument with her parents, perhaps some emotional confrontation over her belongings. But his lion knew better. This wasn’t disappointment or anger. This was fear. Pure, desperate fear.
And then her voice sliced through his consciousness like a blade through silk, clear and urgent through their telepathic link.
Help. Damian has me. He’s taking me somewhere.
The words hit him like a battering ram. His blood turned to ice, then immediately began to boil with a rage so primal it threatened to shatter his human facade entirely. The boardroom, the presentation, the carefully constructed professional moment—all of it became background noise to the roar building in his chest.
That bastard had his mate.
Across the table, Travis’s steel-gray eyes locked onto his, reading the situation with the intuitive accuracy of someonewho’d known Leander since childhood. Travis was already rising from his chair before Leander moved.
“Gentlemen,” Leander said, his voice controlled despite the volcanic fury building beneath his skin. His hands braced against the table to keep them steady. “I apologize, but I have to leave immediately. We’ll need to postpone the vote until I handle this emergency.”
Questions erupted around the table, but Leander was moving toward the door, his stride eating up the distance with predatory efficiency. Travis fell into step beside him without hesitation.
“I’m coming with you,” Travis said, his tone brooking no argument. “No way I’m letting you handle this alone.”
They reached the elevator, and Leander jabbed the button with enough force to crack the plastic. The moment the doors closed, his careful composure cracked.
“Damian has Camille,” he said, his voice a low growl that vibrated with barely contained violence. “She just reached out through the bond. He’s taken her somewhere.”
Travis’s jaw tightened. “How is that even possible? She was just going to collect her things.”
“Her parents.” The words tasted like poison. “They disapprove of everything—the engagement, the partnership, me. They think I’m dangerous.” His laugh was sharp. “But they have no idea how dangerous I can be when someone threatens what’s mine.”
The elevator doors opened, and they strode through the lobby like men on a mission. Leander’s mind raced through possibilities, discarding each in turn. Damian was too smart to take her somewhere obvious, but he was also too arrogant to resist making a statement.
“They don’t know the real you,” Travis said as they hit the sidewalk, already scanning for a cab. “But they’re about to findout that you are indeed dangerous. They just made the worst mistake of their lives.”
A yellow cab screeched to a halt at Leander’s imperious wave. They dove into the backseat, and Leander barked the address of Camille’s parents’ penthouse to the driver.
As Manhattan blurred past the windows, Leander’s lion paced restlessly, demanding immediate action. The need to shift, to track, and to hunt was almost overwhelming. But he forced himself to think strategically. Damian wasn’t just some rogue—he was calculating, patient, and he had a very specific agenda.
The cab pulled up to the gleaming tower that housed the St. James penthouse. Leander was out before it fully stopped, Travis close behind. But the doorman’s apologetic shake of his head confirmed what Leander already suspected.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Drake, but you’re not allowed on the property.”
A dead end. Leander stood on the sidewalk, his hands clenched into fists, feeling the mate bond stretch like a taut wire in his chest. Where would Damian take her? Somewhere private, somewhere he could control the situation, somewhere he could?—
The realization hit him like lightning.
“The Hamptons,” he said, turning to Travis with sudden certainty. “He’s taken her to the Hamptons.”
Travis’s eyes widened. “The pride lands? That’s bold, even for him.”
