CHAPTER 59

 Xander’s POV

I sank back in my chair, exhaling slowly as the final piece of the crisis with my family fell into place.

It had been chaos these last couple of days, blinding, deafening, a settling storm that pushed the bursts of stifled resentments and history and the heavy chains of obligations weighing me down. But I had handled it.

The crisis was resolved.

And yet I did not feel at peace.

Instead, some new disturbance had crept into my head and burrowed inside, like a parasite feasting on my anger.

Robert Lee.

My fingers were clenched in a fist on my desk, the shining wood creaking beneath the strain. Ryder stood across from me with his arms crossed, his face surly.

“He offered her a job,” Ryder said, speaking under his breath.

My jaw locked. My teeth automatically tensed as I felt a sudden sharp pain, but I barely noticed.

That bastard.

I should’ve seen it coming.

He was always vulture overhead at the first sign of weakness, and dialysis was no exception. As soon as he perceived an opportunity, he pounced with precision.

And Beatrice — my Beatrice — had been that opportunity.

“How much did he offer her?” I was deceptively calm, though, and Ryder knew me too well to take my tone for indifference.

“Triple what she makes here.”

I went still.

Triple?

That wasn’t just a job offer. That was a statement. A calculated challenge.

My fingers twitched, wanting to break something. To flip this damn desk over. To destroy.

Robert wasn’t in the market for an employee.

He was after her.

“He wants her,” Ryder said, studying me closely. “And he is not subtle about it.”

The atmosphere of the chamber grew thick with something dark and treacherous. My wolf stirred, a deep growl thrumming in my chest, showing its teeth if Robert thought to lay claim to what was mine.

Mine.

It pulsed through me, undeniable.

She was mine.

And Robert Lee had just signed the death warrant.

I had been controlling myself for years where I had to, but there was a moment now when control lost me. In a world where power was everything, it was the only way to survive. But this? The thought of any other man putting even a single finger on Beatrice aroused something primal, something ruthless in me. It slithered under my skin like wildfire, sparking something so primal, so total in its possessiveness, that all I wanted to do was track him down right this second and rip out his throat.

I took a slow, measured breath, rendering my voice into the coldest precision. “Look up everything you can find on his company,” I ordered.

Ryder gave a sharp nod. “Already on it. But Xander —” He went quiet, something unsaid hanging between us.

I narrowed my eyes. “What?”

Ryder released a breath, raking a hand through his hair and then meeting my eyes. “Are you angry because she could leave … or because you didn’t want to lose her to another man?”

The question cut like a knife, and my face was masklike.

I clenched my jaw.

Both.

But I didn’t say it out loud. Instead, I kept the admission sealed behind an iron wall, unreadable as ever. Emotions were a liability in this world, and I wasn’t about to be subjected to any.

I pushed my chair away from the desk and stood, dragging the chair across the hardwood floor. Ryder didn’t budge, his hawkish stare sweeping over my body, seeing if I would blow up or play with my next move.

I chose the latter.

“She said she’ll think about it,” Ryder said after a pause. “But he’s not giving up.”

Of course, he wasn’t. Robert wasn’t a man who took no for an answer. He bent it into a challenge, a game he thought he could win. And Beatrice, with her soft strength and those sharp, guarded eyes, was the sort of prize men like him might do anything to claim.

But he had made one crucial mistake — he had underestimated who Beatrice belonged to.

I stalked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and stared out at the city below. Night had descended over New Jersey, the skyline turquoise behind me, but I was seeing none of it. Instead, I saw her.

I saw how she had looked at me the last time we were together — fire and defiance fighting with the softness she tried so hard to conceal. How her lips had parted, as though she had wanted to say something but had blocked herself. The way she had made herself walk away, shoulders square, chin lifted, as if refusing to let me see how much it hurt.

I’d watched her leave, but never really let her go.

She haunted me.

Even now, the ghost of her scent destroyed my senses — warm, familiar, maddening. A cruel reminder that I had once cradled her in my arms, had once felt her quiver beneath me, had once drunk her mouth like a man deprived.

And now, someone else thought he could have her? That he could give her a future, a life, something I hadn’t been able to?

My hands flexed at my sides.

“Where is she?” I asked, my voice even, but only just.

“At the coffee space,” Ryder responded. “But Robert’s persistent. He called her twice today.”

I stilled.

“Twice?”

Ryder hesitated.

I started a slow step toward him. “Ryder.”

“She did answer the first one,” he conceded. “But then hung up after a few seconds.”

My wolf snarled.

That was enough. So much that Robert believed he had a shot. Just enough for him to get more aggressive.

Just enough for me to call this off before it got out of hand.

“Bring her to my office,” I said instead.

Ryder looked me over one more time before nodding and walking away.

I bowed forward, my elbows on the desk, exhaling.

Beatrice was about to find out exactly how I felt about this situation.

And it wasn’t going to be a good one.

Fifteen minutes later, my office door burst open.

Beatrice walked in, confusion flitting across her face. “You called for me?”

I neither spoke nor moved.

I reached into my desk drawer and watched her closely as my fingers skimmed over the cool paper, then retrieved a check. I slammed it onto the table that lay between us without hesitation; the snap of heated metal on wood echoed through the office.

Beatrice whimpered a little at the sharp movement, the air catching in her throat. But she did not instantly look at me. Instead, her eyes fell on the check between us, her dainty fingers almost shyly inching toward it.

And then, her eyes widened.

“This…” she whispered, disbelieving the taste of her words. “This is—”

“The second should be double what Robert Lee paid you.” My voice was fluid, steady. Folding my arms over my chest — still leaned back in my chair — I gave her a direr stare. “You are not going anywhere, Beatrice.”

Silence.

Thick, charged, unyielding.

She stared at the check as though it could burn her, her lips slightly parted, her chest rising and falling with each hesitant breath.

I knew what she was thinking.

That she was torn between pride and practicality. That she didn’t want to be purchased, didn’t want to feel like she relied on me.

But this wasn’t about money.

This was about me and her.

But I wasn’t going to give her a choice.

I drummed the check forward, her fingers twitching on it like her hand was possessed. My voice went low, hard, possessive, brooking no argument.

“You belong here. With me.”

Her head shot up, those golden-brown eyes flashing with something unreadable. “Xander, you can’t just—”

“I can.” My jaw tightened. “And I will.”

She let out a sharp breath, shaking her head. “This isn’t fair.”

Fair?

I nearly laughed. Nothing about us had ever been right.

Not when destiny had bound me to her and then taken her from me. Not when she had been made to suffer alone while I was off chasing a ghost for years. Not when the universe had given us a second chance and all she did was run.

No, life had never been fair.

However, I was not about to let that keep me down.

“Take the damn check, Beatrice.” My voice was steady but there was an undeniable edge under it. “Unless you prefer to go work for Robert Lee.”

She bristled at the name, her fingers balling up into fists at her sides.

I tilted my head. “That’s what you want, right?”

“No,” she said immediately.

I smirked. “Then what’s the problem?”

She inhaled, her exasperation palpable. “The issue is you’re trying to control me.

Control?

I leaned in, propping my elbows on the desk to challenge her glare with one of my own.

“I’m protecting what’s mine.”

Her breath caught and her lips parted, but I didn’t stop.

“I don’t care if you’re going to hate me for this,” I said. “You can think I’m manipulative, or overbearing. But you’re not leaving.”

Her breath trembled, and I saw it, for a moment — the hesitation. The doubt. The part of her that couldn’t leave.

And I was going to do damn sure about it.