Title: CONTRACT WITH MY EX-HUSBAND BOSS

Varia’s POV The scent of champagne and expensive cologne couldn't mask the smell of wet fur and impending violence. I leaned against the cold stone of the balcony, the silk of my midnight-blue gown slit up to my hip. Underneath the fabric, a silver-tipped dagger was strapped to my thigh, humming against my skin like it was as thirsty for Nathan’s blood as I was. Inside the ballroom, the elite of the European wolf world swirled. It was a sea of masks, hidden identities, and even deeper lies. Nathan was there, laughing, his hand possessively on Tara’s waist. My Fated mate. The man who had signed my death warrant six months ago. "You're shaking, Varia." The voice was like a low-frequency vibration that hit me right in the center of my chest. I didn't have to turn around. I knew that scent anywhere—rainwater, cedar, and the sharp, metallic tang of an Alpha who had spent the afternoon in a sparring ring. Caspian Allanven. "I'm not shaking," I snapped, finally turning to face him. "I'm vibrating with the urge to kill someone. There's a difference." Caspian didn't look like a CEO or an Alpha Heir right now. He looked like a predator who had successfully cornered his prey. He wasn't wearing a mask; he didn't need one. His face was a mask of cold, chiseled indifference, save for the dark ink of a raven’s wing that crawled up his neck and disappeared under the collar of his bespoke black suit. He took a slow, deliberate step into my personal space, forcing me back against the railing. He was massive, his presence alone enough to make the air feel thick. "You're going to get yourself killed," he said, his voice a dangerous purr. "And I hate losing good employees. Even the ones I had to fire for being too smart for their own good." "I don't work for you anymore, Caspian. I'm not your assistant. I'm a ghost." "You're a mess," he corrected, his dark eyes scanning my face. He reached out, his thumb grazing my lower lip. The contact sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated heat through my veins that I hated myself for feeling. "Nathan is protected by the High Council tonight. You touch him, and they’ll have your head on a spike before the sun comes up." "Let them try," I hissed, reaching for the dagger. Before I could even clear the sheath, Caspian’s hand was a vice around my wrist. He pinned it to the railing behind me, his body slamming into mine. He was solid, a wall of muscle and dominance that smelled like everything I shouldn't want. "Let go of me," I growled, my wolf clawing at the surface of my skin. "Make me," he challenged. His eyes flashed a predatory gold, the only sign of the beast beneath the suit. He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. "You want revenge? Revenge is a dish best served while you're still alive to enjoy the screaming. Killing him now is a mercy. You want to ruin him? You need power. You need a name he can’t touch." "And I suppose you're offering yours?" I spat, trying to ignore how my body was reacting to the proximity of his. "I'm offering you a throne, Little Wolf. If you can handle the thorns." The doors to the balcony burst open before I could respond. "Varionaire?" The voice was sharp, familiar, and made my blood turn to ice. Nathan stood there, his mask pushed up, his face twisted in a mixture of shock and immediate fury. Behind him, Tara hovered, her eyes wide with fake innocence. "Nathan," I said, my voice dripping with venom. Caspian didn't move. He kept his hand firmly on my wrist, his body still shielding mine. "You're alive," Nathan stepped forward, his Alpha aura flaring, trying to crush me. "How? I saw the rogues take you. You were supposed to be dead." "Sorry to disappoint," I said, baring my teeth. "Turns out I’m harder to kill than you thought. Is that why you brought the replacement? To make sure someone was holding your leash?" Tara flinched, but Nathan’s face went red. "You’re an exile, Varia. You’re trespassing on sacred ground. By the laws of the Crescent Moon, I have the right to execute you right here." He reached for his side, but he stopped dead when Caspian finally turned his head. The air in the balcony shifted instantly. It went from a domestic spray to a war zone. "The Crescent Moon has no jurisdiction over my wife, Nathan," Caspian said calmly. The silence that followed was deafening. I felt my own jaw drop, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Wife? Nathan laughed, a harsh, jagged sound. "Wife? Don't be ridiculous, Allanven. She was my mate. She’s a traitor to my pack. You wouldn't touch her with a ten-foot pole." Caspian finally let go of my wrist, but only to slide his arm firmly around my waist, pulling me flush against his side. His hand rested on my hip, his thumb digging into the silk of my dress. "The paperwork was filed this morning," Caspian lied with such smooth conviction I almost believed him myself. "She’s an Allanven now. Which means if you even look at her with that pathetic, weak-willed gaze of yours again, I’ll consider it an act of war against the Blackwood Line." Nathan’s eyes darted between us, his wolf sensing the sheer power radiating off Caspian. Caspian wasn't just an Alpha; he was an Heir to the oldest bloodline in Europe. He could crush Nathan’s pack with a phone call. "She’s a stray," Tara chirped, her voice grating. "Nathan, you can't let him do this. She’s dangerous." Caspian looked at Tara for the first time, his gaze so cold she actually took a step back. "She’s dangerous? That’s why I like her. Now, get out. This is a private balcony, and I’m currently trying to convince my wife not to kill you. You're making it very difficult for her to resist." Nathan’s fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white. He looked at me, a flicker of something—regret? Lust?—passing through his eyes. "This isn't over, Varia." "It was over the second you left me for dead, Nathan," I said, my voice steady. "Now, run along before the big bad wolf eats you." They retreated, the tension in the air snapping like a rubber band as the doors clicked shut. I immediately shoved Caspian away, my lungs burning for air. "What the hell was that? Wife? Are you insane? I'd rather be dead than married to you!" Caspian didn't look offended. He just adjusted his cuffs, his eyes dark and unreadable. "You’ve got two choices, Varionaire. You can walk back in there, try to kill him, and be dead within five minutes. Or, you can come with me, sign the actual papers I’ve already drafted, and we spend the next six months systematically destroying everything Nathan holds dear." "Why?" I demanded. "What do you get out of this? You don't do anything out of the goodness of your heart, Caspian. I worked for you. I know you're a calculating, cold-blooded bastard." He walked toward me, his movements fluid and predatory. He didn't stop until he was inches away, his scent overwhelming my senses. He reached out, his hand sliding into my hair, tilting my head back so I had to look at him. "I want the Crescent Moon territory for my empire," he whispered, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "And I want the woman who was brave enough to steal from my safe three years ago and think I didn't notice." My breath hitched. "You knew?" "I've always known Varia. I was just waiting for you to be desperate enough to come to me." He leaned down, his lips a breath away from mine. "Do we have a deal, or should I call Nathan back?" The hatred I felt for him was thick, but the desire for revenge was thicker. And underneath it all, a dark, traitorous part of my wolf was howling at the feel of his hand in my hair. "I want his head on a platter," I whispered. Caspian smiled, a slow, wicked curve of his lips that didn't reach his eyes. "I'll give you the whole damn world, as long as you remember who owns you." He didn't wait for an answer. He crashed his lips onto mine—not a romantic kiss, but a claim. It tasted like power, salt, and a promise of total destruction. It was a bite, a challenge, a storm. When he pulled away, I was breathless, my knees weak. "My car is downstairs," he said, his voice back to that professional, icy tone. "Don't keep me waiting. We have a pack to burn." He turned and walked away, the raven tattoo on his neck seeming to mock me. I stood on the balcony, the cold wind whipping my hair, knowing I had just traded one cage for another—and this one had much sharper teeth. Varia’s POV The scent of champagne and expensive cologne couldn't mask the smell of wet fur and impending violence. I leaned against the cold stone of the balcony, the silk of my midnight-blue gown slit up to my hip. Underneath the fabric, a silver-tipped dagger was strapped to my thigh, humming against my skin like it was as thirsty for Nathan’s blood as I was. Inside the ballroom, the elite of the European wolf world swirled. It was a sea of masks, hidden identities, and even deeper lies. Nathan was there, laughing, his hand possessively on Tara’s waist. My fated mate. The man who had signed my death warrant six months ago. "You're shaking, Varia." The voice was like a low-frequency vibration that hit me right in the center of my chest. I didn't have to turn around. I knew that scent anywhere—rainwater, cedar, and the sharp, metallic tang of an Alpha who had spent the afternoon in a sparring ring. Caspian Allanven. "I'm not shaking," I snapped, finally turning to face him. "I'm vibrating with the urge to kill someone. There's a difference." Caspian didn't look like a CEO or an Alpha Heir right now. He looked like a predator who had successfully cornered his prey. He wasn't wearing a mask; he didn't need one. His face was a mask of cold, chiseled indifference, save for the dark ink of a raven’s wing that crawled up his neck and disappeared under the collar of his bespoke black suit. He took a slow, deliberate step into my personal space, forcing me back against the railing. He was massive, his presence alone enough to make the air feel thick. "You're going to get yourself killed," he said, his voice a dangerous purr. "And I hate losing good employees. Even the ones I had to fire for being too smart for their own good." "I don't work for you anymore, Caspian. I'm not your assistant. I'm a ghost." "You're a mess," he corrected, his dark eyes scanning my face. He reached out, his thumb grazing my lower lip. The contact sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated heat through my veins that I hated myself for feeling. "Nathan is protected by the High Council tonight. You touch him, and they’ll have your head on a spike before the sun comes up." "Let them try," I hissed, reaching for the dagger. Before I could even clear the sheath, Caspian’s hand was a vice around my wrist. He pinned it to the railing behind me, his body slamming into mine. He was solid, a wall of muscle and dominance that smelled like everything I shouldn't want. "Let go of me," I growled, my wolf clawing at the surface of my skin. "Make me," he challenged. His eyes flashed a predatory gold, the only sign of the beast beneath the suit. He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. "You want revenge? Revenge is a dish best served while you're still alive to enjoy the screaming. Killing him now is a mercy. You want to ruin him? You need power. You need a name he can’t touch." "And I suppose you're offering yours?" I spat, trying to ignore how my body was reacting to the proximity of his. "I'm offering you a throne, Little Wolf. If you can handle the thorns." The doors to the balcony burst open before I could respond. "Varionaire?" The voice was sharp, familiar, and made my blood turn to ice. Nathan stood there, his mask pushed up, his face twisted in a mixture of shock and immediate fury. Behind him, Tara hovered, her eyes wide with fake innocence. "Nathan," I said, my voice dripping with venom. Caspian didn't move. He kept his hand firmly on my wrist, his body still shielding mine. "You're alive," Nathan stepped forward, his Alpha aura flaring, trying to crush me. "How? I saw the rogues take you. You were supposed to be dead." "Sorry to disappoint," I said, baring my teeth. "Turns out I’m harder kill than you thought. Is that why you brought the replacement? To make sure someone was holding your leash?" Tara flinched, but Nathan’s face went red. "You’re an exile, Varia. You’re trespassing on sacred ground. By the laws of the Crescent Moon, I have the right to execute you right here." He reached for his side, but he stopped dead when Caspian finally turned his head. The air in the balcony shifted instantly. It went from a domestic spat, to a war zone. "The Crescent Moon has no jurisdiction over my wife, Nathan," Caspian said calmly. The silence that followed was deafening. I felt my own jaw drop, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Wife? Nathan laughed, a harsh, jagged sound. "Wife? Don't be ridiculous, Allanven. She was my mate. She’s a traitor to my pack. You wouldn't touch her with a ten-foot pole." Caspian finally let go of my wrist, but only to slide his arm firmly around my waist, pulling me flush against his side. His hand rested on my hip, his thumb digging into the silk of my dress. "The paperwork was filed this morning," Caspian lied with such smooth conviction I almost believed him myself. "She’s an Allanven now. Which means if you even look at her with that pathetic, weak-willed gaze of yours again, I’ll consider it an act of war against the Blackwood Line." Nathan’s eyes darted between us, his wolf sensing the sheer power radiating off Caspian. Caspian wasn't just an Alpha; he was an Heir to the oldest bloodline in Europe. He could crush Nathan’s pack with a phone call. "She’s a stray," Tara chirped, her voice grating. "Nathan, you can't let him do this. She’s dangerous." Caspian looked at Tara for the first time, his gaze so cold she actually took a step back. "She’s dangerous? That’s why I like her. Now, get out. This is a private balcony, and I’m currently trying to convince my wife not to kill you. You're making it very difficult for her to resist." Nathan’s fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white. He looked at me, a flicker of something—regret? Lust?—passing through his eyes. "This isn't over, Varia." "It was over the second you left me for dead, Nathan," I said, my voice steady. "Now, run along before the big bad wolf eats you." They retreated, the tension in the air snapping like a rubber band as the doors clicked shut. I immediately shoved Caspian away, my lungs burning for air. "What the hell was that? Wife? Are you insane? I'd rather be dead than married to you!" Caspian didn't look offended. He just adjusted his cuffs, his eyes dark and unreadable. "You’ve got two choices, Varionaire. You can walk back in there, try to kill him, and be dead within five minutes. Or, you can come with me, sign the actual papers I’ve already drafted, and we spend the next six months systematically destroying everything Nathan holds dear." "Why?" I demanded. "What do you get out of this? You don't do anything out of the goodness of your heart, Caspian. I worked for you. I know you're a calculating, cold-blooded bastard." He walked toward me, his movements fluid and predatory. He didn't stop until he was inches away, his scent overwhelming my senses. He reached out, his hand sliding into my hair, tilting my head back so I had to look at him. "I want the Crescent Moon territory for my empire," he whispered, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "And I want the woman who was brave enough to steal from my safe three years ago and think I didn't notice." My breath hitched. "You knew?" "I've always known Varia. I was just waiting for you to be desperate enough to come to me." He leaned down, his lips a breath away from mine. "Do we have a deal, or should I call Nathan back?" The hatred I felt for him was thick, but the desire for revenge was thicker. And underneath it all, a dark, traitorous part of my wolf was howling at the feel of his hand in my hair. "I want his head on a platter," I whispered. Caspian smiled, a slow, wicked curve of his lips that didn't reach his eyes. "I'll give you the whole damn world, as long as you remember who owns you." He didn't wait for an answer. He crashed his lips onto mine—not a romantic kiss, but a claim. It tasted like power, salt, and a promise of total destruction. It was a bite, a challenge, a storm. When he pulled away, I was breathless, my knees weak. "My car is downstairs," he said, his voice back to that professional, icy tone. "Don't keep me waiting. We have a pack to burn." He turned and walked away, the raven tattoo on his neck seeming to mock me. I stood on the balcony, the cold wind whipping my hair, knowing I had just traded one cage for another—and this one had much sharper teeth.