CHAPTER 6
513 Words
Julian looked at her, and for the first time in his life, the Alpha felt entirely powerless.
He could command armies, he could manipulate international markets, but he could not force the girl standing before him to look at him with anything other than justified contempt. And the worst part was, his inner wolf was entirely on her side.
It was howling in agreement, demanding that Julian drop to his knees and grovel for the mistake he had made.
"I am not asking you to come back as a secret," Julian said, his voice dropping into an earnest, desperate whisper. "The Silvercrest betrothal... it’s a political arrangement.
It hasn't been signed. But the pack is under attack, Elena. Sterling is trying to force a council audit. If I don't have a hyper-competent strategist at my side, someone who understands both the human markets and the internal mechanics of my corporate governance, Obsidian will fall.
I will pay you five times your previous salary. You can dictate the hours. You can set the boundaries."
Elena stared at him, her mind racing. Five times her salary meant she could finally buy her own place, secure her independence, and never have to worry about financial survival again.
But more than that, she saw the sheer, unadulterated desperation in his eyes. He wasn't here as a conqueror; he was here as a beggar.
"You want a professional arrangement, Mr. Vance?" Elena asked, her voice turning into a smooth, dangerous ledger. "Fine. But we do this on my terms."
Julian’s chest rose with a sudden, hopeful gasp. "Name them."
"One: I am your Chief Operating Strategist, not your secretary. I sit in the boardroom, not the ante-room," Elena said, stepping closer until she could see the fine gold flecks in his eyes.
"Two: The fated mate bond is dead. You rejected it, and it stays rejected. If your wolf so much as growls possessively at me, or if you try to interfere with my personal life, I walk, and I take my algorithms with me. And three..."
She paused, her eyes narrowing into two icy slits.
"I will manage the logistics for your betrothal gala next month. I will make sure your marriage to Lady Katherine looks like the wedding of the century to the High Council. And you will watch me do it without saying a single word of complaint."
Julian felt the terms slice through his pride like a razor blade. She was offering to help him save his company, but she was going to torture him every single day by forcing him to watch her remain completely out of his reach.
"Agreed," Julian choked out, reaching his hand across the space between them.
Elena looked at his large, calloused hand, the hand that should have been holding hers in the sacred pack circles and slowly extended her own. When their palms met, there was no golden explosion. There was only a sharp, cold sting of a signed contract.
"I start tomorrow at seven, Mr. Vance," she said, drawing her hand back. "Don't be late.”
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