The Billionaire Alpha

Chapter 12: Into the Unknown

Grace woke slowly, disoriented by the darkness around her. For a moment, she wasn’t sure where she was, the unfamiliar silence pressing in on her. Then it hit her—her new apartment. She sat up, her hands fumbling along the bedside table until her fingers found the remote Damian had shown her the night before.

She pressed a button, and with a soft hum, the curtains began to retract. Watery sunlight filtered into the room, illuminating the rain-streaked windows. The city skyline beyond was cloaked in gray, droplets racing down the glass. The sound of rain tapped faintly against the panes, a soothing rhythm that briefly calmed her nerves.

Grace swung her legs out of bed, padding over to the window. She leaned against the cool glass, her eyes following the bustling streets below, the umbrellas bobbing like colorful dots in the sea of gray. The world felt distant, almost surreal, as if she were watching a scene from someone else’s life.

Her phone buzzed on the bedside table, pulling her back to the present. She walked over and picked it up, Damian’s name flashing on the screen. She answered quickly, holding the phone to her ear.

“Good morning, Grace,” Damian’s voice came through, warm and upbeat. “I trust you slept well?”

Grace hesitated. “I—yes, I did. Thank you.”

“Good,” Damian said, his tone bright. “Today is a hunting day, so I’ll be unavailable until the afternoon. However, you have a 10 a.m. meeting with Leonard to discuss employment opportunities within *Wolfe Holdings.*”

Grace blinked, surprised. She had heard him mention his business holdings before, but this was the first time he had called it by name. She wasn’t sure what kind of opportunities he had in mind, but the idea of being under Damian’s thumb made her uneasy.

“Damian, I—” she began, but he cut her off.

“Make the most of it, Grace,” he said, his voice softening slightly. “Leonard is an excellent guide. My mate, my queen, I’ll see you later. Enjoy your day.”

Grace froze, her heart skipping at the words. *My mate, my queen?* Before she could respond, the call ended, leaving her staring at the phone in disbelief. She shook her head, setting the phone down and trying to push the strangeness of the exchange aside. She didn’t have time to dwell on Damian’s choice of words—she needed to get ready.

She dressed carefully, selecting another elegant outfit from the wardrobe Damian had filled. The green blouse and matching skirt fit her perfectly, the sophisticated style reminding her again how far she had been pulled from her old life. She finished quickly, pulling on a pair of low heels before grabbing her bag and heading downstairs.

Henry was waiting by the car, as composed and professional as ever. He opened the door for her, nodding politely as she slid into the seat. The ride was quiet, the rain blurring the city outside the windows. Grace fidgeted with her bag, the memory of her outburst toward Henry lingering in her mind. She glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

“Henry,” she began softly, “about the other evening—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Henry interrupted her with a wave of his hand, his expression calm. “There’s no need, Miss Grace. It’s forgotten.”

His tone left no room for argument, and Grace nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly. She stared out the window for the rest of the ride, her mind racing with questions about what the day would hold.

When they arrived, Henry stepped out and opened her door, gesturing toward the wide staircase that led to the high-rise building’s entrance. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, the gray sky casting a muted light over the bustling street. People hurried by with their phones pressed to their ears or earbuds in place, their conversations drowned out by the city’s constant hum.

“Miss Grace,” Henry said, his voice calm as ever, “up the stairs, through the glass doors. Leonard will meet you inside.”

Grace nodded, clutching her bag tightly as she ascended the steps. Her thoughts churned, wondering what kind of meeting this would be. Was she being interviewed? Or was Damian orchestrating something far beyond her control again?

The glass doors slid open as she approached, the cool air of the building’s lobby brushing against her skin. A man in his 50s, sharply dressed and carrying an air of authority, approached her with a warm smile.

“Luna,” he said, his voice polite but certain. “Welcome.”

Grace froze, her confusion evident. “Luna?” she echoed, her brow furrowing.

The man’s expression shifted, his smile tightening as he quickly corrected himself. “My apologies—Grace. Welcome, Grace.”

He gestured for her to follow, leading her through the expansive lobby. As they walked, he engaged in light conversation, asking about her morning and commenting on the rain. Grace answered politely, but her mind kept circling back to his slip. Luna. What did that mean?

They entered an elevator, and Grace’s curiosity deepened as they ascended to one of the top floors. When the doors opened, she was greeted by an expansive office with sweeping views of New York City. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the skyline, the rain creating a dreamy haze over the bustling streets below. The room was sleek and modern, the furniture understated but luxurious.

Grace couldn’t help but wonder how much money *Wolfe Holdings* truly had, what it controlled, and just how deep its influence ran. The sheer opulence of the office made her feel like a small cog in a machine far larger than she could comprehend.

Leonard gestured for her to sit across from him at a large glass desk. He opened a dossier, sliding a document toward her. “This is a non-disclosure agreement,” he explained. “It covers all business and matters pertaining to Wolfe Holdings.”

Grace stared at the paper for a moment before picking up the pen. She hesitated briefly but then signed, feeling like she was merely along for the ride. Leonard nodded, retrieving the document and typing something into his laptop.

“Now,” he said, his tone businesslike, “there is a position available that I believe you’ll find interesting—curator of our private collection. You would be working closely with Isabel, who you’ve already met.”

Grace’s eyes widened, a thrill of excitement rushing through her. “Really? I’d love that. It sounds perfect.”

Leonard smiled faintly. “Excellent. I’ll have the details sent over to you by the end of the day.”

Before Grace could fully process her excitement, Leonard slid another set of documents onto the desk. His tone remained casual as he continued, “There is one more matter to address—a personal contract.”

Grace blinked, her excitement giving way to confusion. “A personal contract?”

Leonard nodded. “The stipend of ten thousand dollars a week will be paid into an account set up by *Wolfe Holdings,* but there are conditions. You’ll need to adhere to specific requirements—availability for Mr. Wolfe at designated times, approved clothing choices, and restrictions on certain associations.”

Grace felt her stomach twist as she listened. She leaned back in her chair, her brows furrowing. “I… I think I need some time to think about this.”

Leonard didn’t seem surprised. He leaned back in his chair, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”

Grace stood quickly, clutching her bag as she moved toward the door. She needed air, space to clear her head. The weight of everything pressed down on her, making it hard to breathe.

As she neared the elevator, someone stepped out of a nearby office, colliding with her. Grace stumbled slightly, looking up to see Sean. His blonde hair was slightly disheveled, and he looked surprised.

“Sorry,” Sean muttered, his tone gruff. “You okay?”

Grace barely registered his words. “I just… I need some air,” she said, her voice distant.

Sean looked around quickly, his blue eyes scanning the hallway. No one seemed to notice them. Without another word, he took her hand and pulled her toward the stairwell.

Grace followed, too overwhelmed to protest as they climbed several flights of stairs. Sean pushed open a fire door, leading her out onto the rooftop. The cool rain and open air hit her like a balm, and she leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees as she took deep breaths.

After a moment, she straightened, turning to thank Sean. He was leaning casually against the wall, one knee up, his hands in his pockets. He shrugged at her gratitude, his eyes meeting hers.

“Anything for my mate,” he said, his tone light but carrying an edge of something deeper. Then, after a pause, he winked. “Just don’t tell Damian I said that. Yet.”