CHAPTER 22

 Xander’s POV

I sat on the chair in my office; the office seemed oddly quiet today, or was it my imagination? The weight of my decisions today still made my heart feel heavy. It was as if my whole body was shaking internally— probably a travel of anger from my confrontation with Beatrice. I wonder if I kept doing this to her. Every time I got home, I sniffed her clothes and longed for her body, but anytime I saw her, my cruelty was not under control. She's even my mate, for that matter.

Oh my Goodness, I'm so exhausted! 

It had been hours since I had rejected her proposal— this should be her fifth attempt to impress me, though I fully knew nothing was wrong with the first proposal.

I closed my eyes and leaned back in the chair, taking a long, slow breath. I had thrown the proposal aside without thinking, frustration clouding my judgment. But now that I was alone, the anger had dissipated into something deeper—something I couldn't quite understand or fathom. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was something else entirely—or possessiveness because anytime I hear her talking with her lover, my blood boils.

The sound of paper rustling brought me back to the moment. I had gathered the final proposal—the one I had almost carelessly dismissed—and now I sat with it in front of me, staring at it as though it could offer me some clarity.

I knew she was trying. I knew Beatrice wanted to prove something. But why did she have to make it so difficult? Why did it feel like I fought myself whenever she was near? I feel my world crumbling anytime I see her face in distress.

The thought of Beatrice seemed to weigh heavily on my mind, and the more I thought about her, the more complicated it became. The lines between professional and personal had blurred long ago, and now it felt like everything between us was tangled in a mess I wasn’t sure I could untangle.

I raked my fingers through my hair, frustrated. How had I ended up in this position? I had everything planned, everything under control. But Beatrice? She was a storm I wasn’t ready for. And the more I pushed her away, the more I realised that my every move only pulled me deeper into a web of feelings I didn’t want to face.

Suddenly, the door to my office creaked open, and my thoughts were interrupted.

Beatrice stood there, her eyes cold but weary, as though she had been carrying a weight for far too long. Her eyes were filled with something teary—like.

I couldn't mask my surprise. She wasn’t supposed to be here. After the scene earlier, I expected her to stay far away, retreating into her little corner of the world.

But here she was.

"What do you want?" My voice was harder than I intended, but it was my only shield.

She closed the door behind her with quiet precision and then, without saying a word, walked straight into the room, standing in front of my desk.

"I’m done," she said, her voice tight, like she was holding back a storm of emotion.

My chest tightened at her words.

"Done with what?" I asked, the irritation creeping into my voice. I didn’t want to feel anything. I didn’t want her to think she could walk in here and make demands, no matter how much I wanted to eliminate the tension between us.

Her eyes flickered with frustration, but there was something deeper, too. Something raw and vulnerable that I wasn’t used to seeing from her.

"Done with all of it," she replied. "Done with this mess we’ve created. Done with you. Done with this company."

“I want to resign!” she screamed.

Re....what? Her words cut through me like a knife. I didn’t want to show it, but the raw honesty in her voice made my heart sink.

"Beatrice..." I started, but she held up her hand, silencing me.

"I’m not going to sit here and pretend anymore," she continued. "I’ve been fighting so hard, trying to prove something to you, to myself, to everyone. But I can’t keep going like this. It’s not worth it."

The words hit me harder than I anticipated. I felt an unfamiliar tightness in my throat, and for a split second, I wondered if I had pushed her too far.

She looked at me, her expression hardening. "I want to resign. I can’t do this anymore."

I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to snap at her. Resigning was not an option when everything was so close to falling into place. She didn’t get to walk away from me— I own this place and everything under it, including you.

"You think you can just walk away?" I stood up, my chair scraping loudly against the floor as I made my way toward her. My steps were deliberate, each one a mark of control I was desperately trying to maintain. "You think you can just quit and leave everything behind?"

Her eyes flashed with anger. "Yes. I do. Because that’s exactly what I want to do."

She replied, “You've been making me work overnight and come to work early in the morning, only for you to keep rejecting all my work. ”

"You’re not leaving," I said, my voice low but firm. There was no negotiation here. She was staying.

Beatrice squared her shoulders, her body tense with anger and defiance. "I won’t stay in this toxic situation any longer, Xander. I won’t."

I could feel the air thickening, our unspoken emotions charging the space around us. My wolf was restless, stirring beneath my skin, urging me to do anything to stop her from leaving. But I couldn’t show weakness.

"You think you have a choice in this?" I said, my voice rough. I could feel the growl forming in my chest, but I held it back. "You’re not walking away from me, Beatrice. Not now, not ever."

Her chest rose and fell with every breath, her eyes never leaving mine. For a moment, I wondered if I had pushed her too far. But then she stepped closer, closing the space between us, her words a knife that cut through the tension.

"You think I don’t know what you’re doing?" she said softly. "You use power like a weapon, Xander. You manipulate people. You’ve manipulated me. And I won’t let you do it anymore."

The sting of her words hit me harder than I expected. I had never been one to admit I was wrong, but something about Beatrice made me question everything. The way she spoke to me—like she could see straight through my mask—made me feel exposed in a foreign way.

"You’re not quitting," I said again, this time more decisively. "You’ll stay, and you’ll finish your work. That’s the only option."

She took a step back, shaking her head slowly. "No. I won’t keep playing your game, Xander. I won’t keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not."

I felt my chest tighten again. This wasn’t how I had envisioned it. She wasn’t supposed to fight me. She wasn’t supposed to make me feel something.

"I said you’re not leaving," I repeated, my voice colder this time.

Beatrice opened her mouth to speak, but I held my hand, cutting her off.

"I have decided something else." I paused, letting the tension linger in the air. "We’ll have a lunch date."

She blinked at me, confusion flickering in her eyes. "A lunch date?" she echoed, incredulous.

"Yes," I said, feeling the control slip back into my grasp. "A lunch date. To discuss business."

Her expression shifted from confusion to anger. "You think you can just—"

"No," I interrupted, stepping even closer, my tone unwavering. "I think you’ll do exactly as I say, Beatrice. We’ll have lunch together. It’ll give us a chance to talk. To make sure you understand the consequences of your actions."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but I could see the hesitation in her eyes. She didn’t know what to make of this, but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t giving her a choice.

I turned away from her, walking toward my desk. "I’ll have my people set it up. Don’t be late."

Her gaze followed me, and for a moment, I could feel the weight of her stare on my back. She was angry. She was frustrated. And somewhere, deep inside, I knew she was hurt, too. But none of that mattered. She was staying.

As I sat back down, my eyes fell on the proposal I had almost discarded. I knew it wasn’t just about the business anymore. It was about her.

I didn’t want to admit it, but every decision I made was about pulling her closer whether she wanted to or not.

And somehow, despite everything, I knew that I couldn’t let her go—now, even now.