Raine
A sudden, wild rhythm that threatened to break through the icy exterior I had spent the last hour maintaining.
My wolf paced anxiously beneath the surface, her ears pinned back, sensing the dangerous shift in his tone.
It wasn’t just a business request.
It was an interrogation.
He was hunting for the girl he used to break, testing the boundaries of my new kingdom to see where the stone would crack.
I kept my hand firmly clamped around the edge of my tablet, my knuckles burning from the pressure.
I refused to let him see a single tremor.
I couldn’t look away, either.
To look away from Miguel Harrison was to concede territory, and I was done giving him an inch of my life.
“That is not going to work for my schedule, Mr.
Harrison,” My voice came out smooth and measured.
I turned my body back toward the desk, deliberate and unhurried, refusing to let his presence bring me to my knees.
“As the CEO of Argent Solutions, my time is partitioned into precise blocks.
I have already allocated a significant portion of my afternoon to give you our primary financial and structural overview.
The granular warehouse data and the supply-chain logistics are David’s departments.
He lives in those metrics.
If you want the highest level of accuracy for your investment, he is the executive you need to speak with.”
Miguel didn’t move a muscle.
He sat perfectly still in the leather chair, leaning back with an ease that felt entirely predatory.
His dark eyes tracked the movement of my lips, then traveled up to lock with mine.
“I didn’t ask for David’s metrics, Ms.
Argent,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, resonant sound that vibrated straight through the floorboards.
“I asked for yours.
I am investing in the vision of this company, and the vision starts and ends with the CEO.
If your schedule is tightly managed, then I suggest we stop wasting time debating my parameters and move on to the next folder.”
The sheer arrogance of it made my jaw tighten, but I caught myself before the emotion could show on my face.
He was using his legal leverage as the majority shareholder to trap me in this room.
If I fought him on this, it would look like personal avoidance.
It would show him that his presence had power over me.
“Very well,” I said, a cold, sharp smile touching my lips as I sat back down in my executive chair.
I smoothly pulled the laptop back toward the center of the desk.
“If you prefer the macro-level overview of our international shipping compliance, we can proceed.
But I have a hard stop at five o’clock.
Any data we do not cover by that time will have to wait for tomorrow’s session.”
Miguel’s eyes narrowed just a fraction, a spark of dark amusement flickering in his gaze.
He adjusted his tailored cuffs.
“Five o’clock it is.”
For the next ninety minutes, the atmosphere in the room turned into a grueling, silent chess match.
I dug into the deep data, pulling up international trade codes, customs clearance timelines, and the automated freight-tracking software we had implemented six months ago.
I threw percentages, legal precedents, and risk-mitigation strategies at him like a shield.
I didn’t give him room to breathe, flowing from one point to the next with rapid, flawless precision.
Every time he tried to slow the pace, trying to steer a question toward my personal background or how a girl from the northern territories managed to secure New York logistics licenses, I deflected instantly.
“That was handled through a standard Government bidding process, Mr. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
Harrison.
If you look at appendix four, you will see the compliance certification,” I countered smoothly, completely shutting down the personal angle.
Miguel listened with an intensity that was noticeable.
He was a highly intelligent man, an Alpha who ran a global corporate empire alongside his pack territory, and he didn’t miss a single detail.
He picked apart our third-quarter shipping margins, pushing me on why we utilized independent contractors for the tri-state delivery instead of a dedicated fleet.
“Because independent contractors insulate us from the liability of vehicle maintenance and labor union negotiations, keeping our liquid capital free for technological scaling,” I answered without a second of hesitation.
By four o’clock, the master folder was completely clear.
The room felt hot, thick with his scent.
I clicked the laptop lid closed.
The sharp snap of the plastic breaking the silence felt like the end of a round in a boxing ring.
“That concludes the international compliance overview,” I said, crossing my hands neatly on top of the desk.
“We are ahead of schedule.”
Miguel didn’t move for a long moment.
He stared at the closed laptop, then slowly lifted his gaze to mine.
The professional mask he had worn during the data review seemed to slip, replaced by that same deep, unreadable look of awe from earlier.
“You really did it,” he said softly.
The corporate coldness was entirely gone from his voice, replaced by something raw.
“When the Vance Group presented the acquisition portfolio, I saw the name Argent Solutions.
I didn’t think it was possible.
I thought it was a coincidence.”
”Nothing I do is a coincidence, Mr.
Harrison,” I replied, my voice clipping his words short.
I stood up, smoothing the front of my skirt, indicating the meeting was over.
“If there are no further inquiries regarding the shipping data, I believe you have enough to review for the afternoon.”
He stood up slowly, his massive frame towering over the opposite side of the desk.
He didn’t look angry that I was cutting him off; he looked completely fascinated.
He picked up his leather briefcase, his dark eyes never leaving my face.
“I will be utilizing the executive suite on the fourteenth floor for the duration of this audit,” Miguel said, his tone returning to a calm, professional baseline.
“I will see you tomorrow morning at nine, Raine.”
”Have a good evening, Mr.
Harrison,” I countered firmly, refusing to acknowledge the use of my first name.
He gave a smirk, turned on his heel, and walked out of the office.
The heavy double doors shut quietly behind him, and the moment the latch clicked, the air in my lungs completely left me.
I sank back into my chair, my hands immediately flying to my face.
My fingers were cold against my burning cheeks.
My heart was still racing, a frantic, delayed reaction to the stress of the last two hours.
I had survived it.
I had looked the man who destroyed my life in the eye, and I had out-maneuvered him in my own house.
But then, his parting words echoed in my mind, striking a sudden, terrifying chord.
*I will be utilizing the executive suite on the fourteenth floor.*
A sharp shock of terror shot straight down my spine, making me stand right up from my chair.
The professional victory I had just felt vanished, completely replaced by a maternal panic so violent it made me dizzy.
Because the twins loved coming to visit the building, but couldn’t be seen running around the main corporate floors, I had discreetly turned the back lounge of the fourteenth floor into their permanent, private play area.
I had left it fully stocked and arranged with their favorite coloring books, an easel, blocks, and a small toy chest so everything would be ready for them whenever they visited.
My mind raced, visualizing the room.
A cold sweat broke out across my neck as a specific memory from last week flashed in my mind.
Leo had been drawing at the small table in that lounge.
He had drawn a picture of a giant grey wolf…a striking, detailed sketch that was entirely too specific, carrying the exact, undeniable silhouette of Miguel’s wolf form.
And right at the bottom corner of the paper, he had proudly written his name in bold, messy crayon: LEO.
I had neatly clipped that drawing onto the front of their little play easel, intending to take it home, but in the rush of leaving that evening, I had completely forgotten it.
It was still sitting right there in the open.
If Miguel was moving his into that exact suite right now, he was going to see it.
He would see the drawing of the wolf.
I didn’t waste a single second.
I didn’t grab my purse nor stop to think.
I practically threw my office door open, striding past a startled Sarah without saying a word.
“Ms.
Argent?” she called out, but her voice faded as I pushed past the glass doors and bolted toward the private executive elevator.
I slammed my thumb against the button for the fourteenth floor, my heart beating against my ribs hard.
Please let me get there first, I prayed, my eyes locked on the digital numbers ticking downward.
Please, just let the lounge be empty.
The elevator gave a soft ding and the doors slid open.
The fourteenth floor was too quiet.
The hallway was brightly lit, the polished floors reflecting the overhead lights, but the heavy scent of cedar and winter rain was already clinging to the air, thick and suffocating.
He was already down here.
I rushed down the hallway, my heels clicking loudly on the floor.
I tried to look calm and professional, just in case any of my workers saw me.
I turned the corner and pushed through the heavy frosted-glass door that led into the executive lounge.
The moment I stepped inside, the breath left my body, and my feet froze flat against the floor.
Miguel was standing in the center of the lounge.
He had his back to me, his hands tucked loosely into his trouser pockets, his broad shoulders perfectly squared.
He was standing directly in front of the kids’ play corner.
My eyes flew past his large frame, landing right on the small wooden easel.
The paper was still clipped to the front.
The bold, dark sketch of the grey wolf was staring right back at him, and from this distance, the messy, bright blue crayon spelling out LEO practically screamed off the page.
Miguel didn’t move.
He just stood there, staring intently at the drawing, completely silent.
Slowly, he turned his head, his dark, piercing eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made the air in the room turn completely to ice.