THEIR BROKEN MATE

CHAPTER 4- CHARLIE

It had been a few hours since I strolled into the office, my phone left unchecked. Meanwhile, Danny, grappling with both withdrawal and an intense loathing for the office, left me in charge of the company's operations. The weight of responsibility sat heavily on my shoulders, for the fate of the company rested on my ability to manage its affairs effectively. My primary focus had been securing additional investors for the coveted platinum project, leading me to a relentless string of back-to-back meetings.

As I was emerging from my last meeting, my phone buzzed, and I glanced at the screen, noticing a text message and a barrage of missed calls from Dan. His message read, "She is here. our mate. she is finally here." Those words struck me like a bolt of lightning, and I couldn't help but read and reread the message, my heart pounding.

I had been aware that things were difficult for Daniel, but I had no inkling that his situation had deteriorated to such an extent. My anxiety prompted me to dial his number immediately, and to my surprise, he picked up on the very first ring. His voice trembled with excitement as he exclaimed, "She is really here, Charlie! After a century of waiting, she is finally here."

I could hardly believe my ears, and I found myself grappling with a mixture of concern and disbelief. It was as if Danny had crossed some threshold of sanity. My exasperation was palpable as I responded, "Please, Danny, tell me you haven't completely lost your grip on reality. She can't possibly be here, and you must go to mom and dad's before you do something impulsive." My exhaustion, which I had managed to keep at bay until that point, began to wash over me like a tidal wave, and I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger, trying to steady myself in the face of this unforeseen crisis.

Searching for a soul to complete my century-long quest has proven to be a Herculean task, one fraught with the trials of time and patience. The relentless march of time wears down the resolve of even the staunchest of hearts, and it eventually wore down mine. I found myself growing weary of the relentless wait, accepting my fate, resigned to a future of solitude stretching ahead like an infinite abyss. A daunting eight centuries and counting had passed since I embarked on this quest. My desires had withered, and I had reconciled with my solitary existence, all the while yearning for my dear Danny to do the same, sparing me the vexation of fretting about his pursuits.

It was a ceaseless cycle, our intertwined fates, and I longed for the simplicity of solitude. But then, a revelation pierced through our despondency. "No, Char, she's really here, right in our house," Danny's voice rang through the phone, followed by the faint sound of a door closing in the background, indicating he had either entered or exited a room.

I couldn't help but retort, exasperated by his seemingly irrational optimism, "And what, pray tell, is she doing? It's not as if you just stumbled upon her while taking a leisurely stroll down the street. She is but a figment of your imagination, a phantom. We are fated never to cross paths with her, even in this era of expanding human diversity and acceptance. Who would willingly consent to a commitment shared by two men? You must cease this fruitless pursuit, or I shall be forced to enlist the aid of our father, who will undoubtedly drag you away to our family's plantation."

My temper flared, and I couldn't restrain a growl of frustration. Yet, despite my fervent reproach, Danny's indomitable spirit remained undaunted, infuriating me even more. "Char, relax," he chided, his voice remarkably chipper given the gravity of our discussion. "I'm talking about the new housekeeper, Samila Davis. Remember her?"

I cast my mind back, the memory resurfacing as a recollection of our correspondence. "Yes, I recall her. I was the one who hired her, although I never had the pleasure of meeting her in person," I replied, vividly remembering the exchange of emails and delegating the interview process to my secretary.

Danny's question hung in the air, a tantalizing enigma. "Did you meet her?"

Certainly, here's a longer and more detailed version of the conversation:

"No, Maria handled everything," I explained, my voice tinged with a sense of relief and gratitude. Maria had swiftly become a cornerstone of our household, a testament to her exceptional capabilities. A highly regarded member of the company, she had been recommended by a trusted employee who knew of my quest for a new housekeeper, or rather, another agency to collaborate with. She assured me of Maria's extensive experience and described her as one of the most dedicated and hardworking individuals she had ever encountered.

I implored, my tone laden with concern, "Please, Daniel, tell me you didn't drive her away on her very first day. I cannot afford to embark on the arduous task of searching for another agency or an individual willing to step in on such short notice."

As I addressed him by his full name, a rarity that only emerged when frustration overcame me, Daniel swiftly responded, his voice carrying the weight of sincerity, "No, Char, she's still here. She's not just an employee, she's become a part of our close-knit family, Char. She's truly the one."

I listened to him, uncertainty swirling within me as I contemplated his words. Even the primal instincts of my wolf side seemed to concur with his assessment. "You're genuinely serious about this?" I inquired, seeking further assurance.

Daniel's response left no room for doubt, "As serious as a heart attack," he declared with unwavering conviction, emphasizing the gravity of the situation.

His words triggered a sudden realization, and I rose from my chair with a startled expletive. I ran a hand through my hair, which bore a striking resemblance to Daniel's, highlighting our undeniable similarity. Our physical likeness extended from our identical builds to our nearly indistinguishable faces. The only distinguishing features between us, perhaps, were our eyes and our contrasting personalities. Despite our outward similarities, there remained one aspect I had never ventured to ascertain—the comparative size of our manhood.

Being twins had bestowed upon us a unique connection that extended beyond mere physical resemblance. It was as if an invisible thread of understanding and communication bound us, allowing for the exchange of thoughts and moods through our mindlink messages, even in our human forms. Most shifters had to rely on their animal forms to communicate, but for us, it was a seamless connection.

Feeling a deep need to confirm the truth of Daniel's words, I assured him, "I'll be there in thirty minutes," my pacing in front of my desk revealing my restless anticipation.

With a chuckle, Daniel chimed in, "Make that twenty if you can manage it," a hint of eagerness evident in his voice. I hung up the phone and hurriedly made my way toward the door. As I stepped outside the office, I found Maria engrossed in typing something, the diligent and capable secretary that she was.

"Maria," I called out, my urgency apparent. "Could you kindly cancel all my remaining meetings and handle all incoming calls? I should only be bothered in the case of an emergency, like the place being on fire or the company facing bankruptcy."

I knew the latter scenario was far-fetched, considering our company's status as the preeminent security firm. It would take a hacker of unparalleled audacity and skill to breach our impervious firewalls and infiltrate our systems. Maria promptly fell in stride with me as I issued these instructions, meticulously noting down each task and providing real-time updates as needed while we awaited the elevator.

She paused, her brow furrowing as she consulted her iPad. "Sir, you didn't have any more meetings scheduled for today. Your father, Mr. Jones Senior, called after you returned from your meeting. He requested you to return his call and mentioned his inability to reach your personal phone," she informed me, her fingers swiftly navigating her device. Maria's efficiency was something I had always valued, knowing that I could rely on her to manage things in my absence. "Is there anything else I can assist with, sir?" she inquired.

Maria had been an invaluable part of the company for a decade, her competence and dedication making her an essential asset both to the organization and to me personally. "No, thank you, Maria. That will be all," I replied as the elevator doors chimed open, and I stepped inside, setting off on the journey to meet the enigmatic Maria and explore the truth behind Daniel's insistence.

With a sense of urgency, I jabbed the ground floor button in the elevator, yearning for it to descend even faster. The anticipation surged within me as I knew my cherished Ferrari awaited below. It was a wild and exhilarating ride, but hey, I was a bachelor who reveled in the sheer thrill of a sleek, speedy machine.

Danny's constant pestering about switching to a practical family car, like an SUV or a truck, never ceased. Yet, the allure of the opulent speedster was too enticing to abandon.

Exiting the elevator, I bolted forward, narrowly avoiding a collision with one of my employees. A wave of agitation washed over me, and in that moment, I fervently wished for the ability to morph and sprint home; it would have been quicker than enduring the sluggish crawl of traffic.

My Ferrari roared onto the street, and I pushed its limits within the constraints of traffic regulations. I couldn't risk arrest; not now when I was so eager to confirm the veracity of Danny's claims about our guest showing up at our doorstep.

I pulled up in front of the building without bothering to search for a parking spot. Nobody would dare raise an eyebrow; after all, being the owner of the building had its distinct privileges, and having a valet on hand certainly smoothed over such transgressions.

It felt as though the longest drive of my life, despite a mere twelve-minute journey. But really, who's counting when every second is laden with anticipation? Flaize stood in front of his desk, and as I approached, I handed him the car key.

"Hello, sir. How are you today? I trust all is well?" he inquired with a hint of finesse. Ordinarily, I'd engage in such pleasantries, but today was different. I wasn't in the mood to entertain those questions now.

Flaize had been an indispensable fixture in our family for years, a loyal sentinel long before my birth. The term "working" hardly did justice to his role; he was my father's confidant, his right hand, essentially an extension of our family. Mysterious as the night, Flaize guarded his actual age as if it were a state secret, and although Dad might have held that knowledge, it was an inconsequential detail to the rest of us. I could still remember how strange it felt when he first addressed me as "sir," but over the years, I'd grown accustomed to the moniker. He was our steadfast protector, ready to take action if the need arose, particularly within the city.

His ostensible job as a doorman, a façade that masked his true role, allowed him to keep a vigilant eye on our surroundings, or so he claimed. I cherished his watchful presence, particularly when it came to Danny. Flaize had an uncanny knack for resolving any pack-related issues in our absence.

"Hello, Flaize," I greeted him, feigning a warm smile. "I'm well, thank you. Please, have someone tend to my car and keep the key for now. You can bring it up in an hour or so."

Flaize, always astute, immediately sensed something amiss. He'd witnessed us grow and evolve, making him exceptionally perceptive. His discerning eye rarely missed a thing.

"Now, I know something's not right. You never part with your car key, let alone your car itself. You won't even allow anyone to approach it, let alone clean it. Giving someone a ride is out of the question," he commented as he fell into step behind me. We headed toward the private elevator, and I attempted to divert the impending inquisition I was sure he had in store. Lying was futile; he'd discern the truth before I even managed to utter the falsehood. He had a way of making me feel like a ten-year-old.

"Please tell me Danny hasn't finally snapped and harmed that young woman who just started working for you today?" he inquired, attempting to convey a look of horror. It was an expression uncharacteristic of him, as I was accustomed to his more serious demeanor.

"Well, I'm about to find out, but I don't think it's that serious," I replied as I stepped into the elevator, and the doors sealed me off from further questioning.

Impatiently, I tapped my foot, wondering why time had slowed to a crawl as I waited for the elevator to reach our floor. Although I was within the safety of my building, Flaize strictly adhered to the rule that we shouldn't shift in areas where humans could potentially witness or record our transformation. The sight of a full-grown wolf within these walls would inevitably lead to a barrage of inquiries and work, a scenario none of us welcomed.

The elevator doors finally opened, and I stepped out, heading toward my door and utilizing the convenient fingerprint scanner to gain access, eliminating the need to carry keys or cards.

As the door swung open, an intoxicating aroma engulfed me, tantalizing my senses, and I could almost taste it on my tongue. 'Mate'—she was here. I quietly closed the door behind me, ready to embark on the quest to locate the source of that heavenly scent.

"Charlie? Is that you?" Danny's voice resonated as he approached from the entryway. He continued, albeit more discreetly, "Of course, it's you. I could smell and sense you from a mile away. Can you smell that? Of course, you can smell it." It was an absurd pattern, this habit of posing rhetorical questions. Were we losing our wits or something, pondering the obvious?

"Pray, permit me to inquire, who was the generous benefactor of these resplendent flowers and delectable chocolates? Or rather, who orchestrated their delivery unto your person?" I demanded, my words tinged with both intrigue and urgency.

As those words hung in the air, my companion struggled to articulate a response. However, this moment was promptly eclipsed by the arrival of a being so breathtakingly divine that it seemed heaven itself had graced our presence.

With an uncanny sense of timing, she made her entrance, a figure of unparalleled grace and beauty. "Greetings. My apologies for the sudden intrusion," she began, extending her hand with an air of grace and self-assuredness, as if she were the harbinger of a long-awaited revelation. "You must surely be Mr. Charlie Jones. I am Samila, your newly appointed custodian of this abode. While we have engaged in correspondence through the digital realm, the pleasure of a face-to-face introduction has eluded us until now. Allow me to express my profound delight at making your acquaintance," she conveyed, her words accompanied by the most captivating smile that had ever graced my eyes.

As I accepted her outstretched hand, an irresistible desire surged within me, urging me to hold onto it indefinitely, to savor the warmth and connection it offered. In that singular moment, the word 'Mate' echoed in the deepest recesses of my being, resonating with an unspoken understanding that transcended mere words. In her eyes, I glimpsed a spark of recognition, and a fleeting glimmer of surprise, hinting at the mysterious threads that wove our destinies together.

This woman, Samila, stood before us like an ethereal goddess, her smile casting a spell that rendered her extraordinary. However, there was a subtlety in her expression—a fleeting shadow that traversed her countenance, too brief for all but the most attentive observer to perceive. Only my unwavering gaze captured the ephemerality of this transformation, and in the blink of an eye, she shifted into a guarded state.

In that instant, my thoughts veered towards the unknown source of her fear, pondering the individual or individuals who had cast shadows over her life. The desire to unearth the truth, to deliver retribution for the suffering inflicted upon her, coursed through me like an unrelenting tempest. In my imagination, I envisaged myself as the avenger, ensuring that those responsible endured torment before any retribution was granted.

Unbeknownst to me, my lingering gaze and the persistent clasp of her hand had become a form of silent captivity. A gentle nudge from my companion, Danny, served as a timely reminder, snapping me out of my ruminations.

With a warm and reassuring smile, Danny addressed Samila, "Hello, Samila. I must extend my apologies as well. I couldn't help but admire your exquisite beauty. It's truly a pleasure to meet you." A sly grin played upon his lips.

I yielded to the necessity of releasing her hand, taking a step back to grant her the personal space she required. While my heart yearned to draw closer to her, I remained acutely aware of the need to avoid causing any distress or alarm. Paradoxically, it appeared that my actions had produced the opposite effect, as Samila now seemed as skittish as a startled deer, her confidence plummeting with an almost supernatural swiftness. I wondered about the root cause of her self-doubt—was it the imposing nature of our presence or the duration of my grip?

My inner wolf, attuned to her unease, grew restless, yearning for an opportunity to provide comfort in a primal and instinctual manner. However, I understood that such a display might only intensify her apprehension.

Concerned for her well-being, Danny stepped in, offering words of support and coaxing a smile from Samila. "Is something amiss, Samila? You seem rather pale."

With a slightly eased expression, Samila disclosed, "I thought I heard a dog growling. It happened both upon my initial arrival and once again when you entered. Do you happen to have a dog?"

Turning towards Danny, I sought confirmation, "You heard a dog growling, both when she first arrived and upon my entrance?" Samila responded with a nod.

"Samila, may I address you as Sam?" I asked, offering her the courtesy of deciding the use of a nickname.

"Of course, Sam is perfectly acceptable."

I offered a cryptic response, "There must be a rational explanation for these occurrences, though the time for revelations has not yet arrived. I regret to inform you that we do not have a dog." Thus, the mystery remained shrouded in enigma, preserving the intrigue surrounding these inexplicable growls.