Eternal Bond

Aftermath

Olivia leaned back, considering Anna’s words carefully. “Well, whatever it was, you’re home now. He can’t touch you here. And as for him being rich and powerful? Screw him. Just because he’s got money doesn’t mean he’s better than anyone else.”

Anna nodded, appreciating her friend’s support. “Yeah. You’re right. He’s just another spoiled rich kid who thinks the world revolves around him.”

Olivia grinned, giving her a playful nudge. “Exactly. And you showed him he can’t push you around. Now, how about we order some takeout and forget about Nathaniel Voss for the night? You deserve a break after all that drama.”

Anna smiled, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. “Yeah, that sounds perfect. Let’s do it.”

As they pulled up their favorite food app, Anna couldn’t help but think about Nathaniel again. Who was he, really? Why had she felt that strange sense of danger when she confronted him? And why did she feel like this wasn’t the last time their paths would cross?

But for now, she pushed those thoughts aside. Tonight, she’d relax with Olivia, eat some greasy takeout, and try to forget about the intimidating, infuriating man who had turned her day upside down.

Tomorrow, she’d deal with whatever came next.

Nathaniel’s car sped through the winding driveway that led to his massive estate, the tires skidding slightly as he took a corner too fast. The anger from earlier still simmered in his chest, a white-hot ember threatening to explode into flames. His jaw was clenched, and his hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

The day had been going well. He was poised to close one of the biggest deals of his career, a multi-billion-dollar investment that would secure his company’s dominance in the international market for decades to come. Everything had been perfect—until she barged in.

That woman—Anna, her name was—had ruined everything. Her boldness, her audacity, and her complete lack of respect had thrown his entire meeting off course. The investors, uncomfortable with the scene she had caused, had left without making any commitments. And now, after months of preparation, everything was on the verge of collapse because of a petty confrontation.

The guards at the gate greeted him as he drove up, but Nathaniel didn’t acknowledge them. His mind was a whirlwind of fury and frustration. He parked the car haphazardly and marched toward the front door, his long coat billowing behind him like the cloak of some avenging dark force.

The mansion was quiet as he stepped inside. A few of his staff members, who had been awaiting his return, looked up expectantly. They were accustomed to a certain level of decorum, but Nathaniel’s mood was anything but polite today.

“Welcome back, Mr. Voss—” one of the maids started, but he cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand, not even sparing her a glance.

Without a word, he headed straight for his bedroom, his polished shoes echoing ominously in the vast halls of the estate. The tension radiated off him like heat waves, and his staff wisely kept their distance, exchanging wary glances as their usually composed employer stormed past.

Once inside his bedroom, Nathaniel kicked the door shut behind him, the loud bang reverberating in the silence. He loosened his tie and tossed it onto a chair, his fingers moving stiffly as if even small actions couldn’t escape the rage boiling inside him.

He needed something to take the edge off. Something to dull the sharp, gnawing hunger that stirred beneath the surface of his anger. Without a second thought, Nathaniel strode over to the small, ornate bar in the corner of the room, pulling out a glass pitcher. The liquid inside was thick and deep crimson—not human blood, of course, but a special blend designed for vampires like him, harvested from various animals and infused with restorative properties.

He poured a generous amount into a crystal glass, his hand shaking slightly as the smell hit his nostrils. The primal part of him stirred—blood always did that, even if it wasn’t from humans. Without pausing, he downed the entire glass in one go, feeling the familiar warmth spread through his body as the blood coursed through him, dulling the edges of his hunger and quieting the beast inside.

For a moment, he stood there, eyes closed, letting the blood do its work. His body relaxed, and the tension in his muscles began to fade. But even as his hunger subsided, the anger remained.

Nathaniel let out a low growl of frustration, setting the glass down with more force than necessary. He couldn’t let this deal fall apart. He wouldn’t let some random woman—no matter how furious or justified she thought she was—ruin everything he’d worked for.

He paced the length of his bedroom for a moment, his mind racing. He needed to fix this. He needed to get the investors back on board. But first, he needed food—something to help ground him after the pitcher of blood.

He pressed a button on the intercom beside his bed, connecting him to the kitchen downstairs. “Get something ready for me to eat,” he ordered curtly, not bothering to specify what. He trusted his chef to know his preferences well enough by now.

As soon as he released the button, he headed to his private study. The dark, polished wood and leather furniture gave the room an air of authority and control, but tonight, it only added to the suffocating weight on Nathaniel’s shoulders.

He sat behind his massive oak desk, firing up his computer and scanning through his contacts. He needed to make amends with the investors. The deal wasn’t dead yet, but time was running out. If he didn’t act fast, they would likely move on to another company, and he couldn’t afford to let that happen.

His phone buzzed, and he glanced at it. A message from his assistant: “The investors haven’t confirmed any meetings yet, but they’re still in town. Should I follow up?”

Nathaniel typed back quickly, his fingers flying across the keyboard. “Yes. Set up another meeting for tomorrow morning. I don’t care what it takes—make it happen.”

He leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly, trying to calm himself. The blood had helped, but he was still on edge. Anna’s face flashed in his mind again, her fiery eyes and the way she had stood in his office, unafraid, as if she had every right to disrupt his life. Most people cowered in his presence, especially when he was angry, but not her. She had stared him down with a defiance that both enraged and intrigued him.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the study door. His chef, a quiet, unassuming man named Gregory, entered with a tray of food. Nathaniel barely glanced at the plate, though he caught the scent of seared steak and roasted vegetables.

“Your dinner, sir,” Gregory said, setting the tray down on a side table. “Shall I leave it here?”

Nathaniel waved him off. “Yes. That’ll be all.”

Gregory bowed slightly and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Nathaniel didn’t touch the food immediately. He sat there, staring at the blinking cursor on his screen, his mind still spinning through possible ways to salvage the deal.

It wasn’t just about the money. It was about power, control, and legacy. His family’s empire was vast, but it had its competitors. This deal was supposed to cement his place at the top—his place as the true heir to the Voss dynasty. And now, it was slipping away because of a simple, unexpected encounter.

Nathaniel clenched his fists, his nails digging into the leather armrests of the chair. He needed to calm down. He needed to think clearly.

He stood abruptly, moving to the side table to retrieve his dinner. The steak was perfectly cooked, as expected, but tonight, the food tasted like ash in his mouth. His thoughts were too preoccupied to enjoy the meal.

As he forced down a few bites, he began dialing the number of one of the investors he had spoken with earlier. The phone rang once, twice, and then a voice answered.

“Nathaniel,” the voice greeted him with measured politeness, but Nathaniel could hear the hesitance beneath it.

“Good evening,” Nathaniel replied, his tone smooth and controlled. “I wanted to follow up on today’s meeting. I understand there were... complications, but I’d like to set things right. The deal is still on the table, and I believe we can move past today’s little interruption.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Nathaniel’s fingers tightened around the phone.

“I appreciate the follow-up,” the investor finally said, “but some of my colleagues are concerned. The meeting today left an impression, and they’re not sure if it’s the right time to move forward.”

Nathaniel’s anger flared, but he forced it down, keeping his voice even. “I understand their concerns, but I assure you that this was a one-time event. It won’t happen again. I’ll personally see to it that everything runs smoothly from here on out.”

Another pause. Nathaniel could almost hear the investor weighing his options.

“I’ll talk to the others,” the man finally said. “We’ll see what we can arrange, but no promises.”

Nathaniel forced a smile, though there was no one to see it. “Thank you. I look forward to hearing from you.”

He ended the call and set the phone down, his teeth grinding together in frustration. He had to get this deal back on track. Failure was not an option.

As he stood there, staring out of the large window that overlooked his vast estate, Nathaniel’s mind drifted back to Anna once again. Who was she? Why did she seem so unafraid of him? And why, despite everything, did he feel like this wasn’t the last time their paths would cross?

He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus. The deal was the priority. Everything else—Anna, his anger, the strange sense of danger that had flared in him during their encounter—would have to wait.

For now, he needed to play the game. And Nathaniel Voss always played to win.