8pm OFFICE
901 Words
_The Billionaire’s Rejected Mate_
*Chapter 3:
8pm sharp.
The Blackwood Industries building was dead quiet. Only the security lights hummed. My heels echoed on marble as I walked to the CEO’s office on the 40th floor.
Stupid. Coming back here at night. Alone. With him.
But 2.3 billion naira was on the line. And revenge tasted better when served close.
The elevator dinged. Damien’s office doors were open. Light spilled out.
He wasn’t working.
He was standing by the window, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened. Glass of whiskey in his hand. When he heard me, he turned. Silver eyes met mine.
“You’re on time,” he said. Voice lower in the empty building.
“Professional courtesy.” I stepped in. Door clicked shut behind me. My wolf whined. Three years of suppression cracking.
His office smelled like him. Pine, storm, whiskey. And something else. Need.
“Coffee?” He nodded at the machine in the corner. Casual. Like I wasn’t the girl he humiliated 3 years ago.
“No.” I dropped my bag. Pulled out my laptop. “You said we’d discuss duties. So discuss.”
Damien set his glass down. Didn’t drink it. Walked around his desk until he was 2 feet from me.
“Duties are simple.” He took the laptop from my hands. Set it aside. “Attend my meetings. Take notes. Travel with me. Smile at investors.”
I crossed my arms. “I’m not a doll.”
“Never said you were.” His eyes dropped to my lips. Then back up. “You’re my secretary. But more than that…” He paused. “You’re my mate.”
The word hit the silent office like a gunshot.
“Don’t.” My voice shook. “You gave up that right.”
“Biology didn’t.” He took another step. Now I could feel his heat. “Every day you’re not here, my wolf paces. Destroys furniture. Can’t focus. 3 years, Favour. 3 years of hell.”
“Good.” The word came out bitter. “You should hurt. Like I did.”
His jaw tightened. “You think I don’t know I was an i***t? That night under the moonlight, when I chose pack status over you… I’ve regretted every second since.”
“Liar.” But my pulse was racing.
“Am I?” He lifted his hand. Hovered near my face. Didn’t touch. “Your scent. Still the same. Honey and rain after a storm. My wolf remembers everything. How you used to laugh when I stole your hoodie. How you fell asleep on my shoulder during night patrol.”
My chest ached. Memories I’d buried. Him at 17, sneaking me food when my pack starved me. Him promising “always” under the full moon.
“You don’t get to remember,” I whispered. “You don’t get to touch.”
“I’m not touching.” His hand dropped. But his eyes burned. “Yet.”
The air between us crackled. Mate bond, broken but not dead. Pulling us together like magnets.
He was so close I could see gold flecks in his silver eyes. His breath hit my lips. My wolf surged forward, desperate, stupid, wanting.
3 years of hate. 3 years of longing. Colliding.
His mouth was almost on mine—
My hand moved on its own.
_SLAP._
The sound cracked through the office. His head snapped to the side. Red mark bloomed on his cheek.
Silence.
My palm stung. My heart hammered. His eyes… weren’t angry.
They were sad. Hurt. Like I’d just stabbed him.
“You don’t get to want me,” I said, voice breaking. “Not after what you did.”
Damien touched his cheek slowly. Stared at me like I was a stranger. Like I’d killed something between us.
“Fair,” he said finally. Voice rough. “Very fair.”
He walked back to his desk. Picked up my contract. Tore it in half.
My blood ran cold. “What are you doing?”
“6 months was too long.” He dropped the pieces. “New deal. 1 month. You stay in my guest room upstairs. We work 9 to 5. After that, you’re free. No forced dinners. No trips.”
“Why would you—”
“Because I don’t want you to hate me more than you already do.” He wouldn’t look at me. “1 month, Favour. Then you walk. With Starlight Corp. With 2.3 billion. No strings.”
He was giving up control. The Alpha Blackwood was surrendering.
And that scared me more than his anger ever did.
I stared at the torn contract on the floor. At him. At the door behind me.
Escape was 3 steps away.
But my feet wouldn’t move.
1 month. In his house. Breathing his air. Sleeping under his roof.
The Moon Goddess was laughing at me.
“Fine,” I whispered. “1 month.”
Damien nodded once. Didn’t smile. “Guest room is on the 45th floor. Pack your things. My driver will take you tonight.”
He turned back to the window. Dismissed me again.
But his shoulders were tense. Like the slap hurt more than he’d admit.
I bent down. Picked up half the torn contract from the floor.
1 month.
What the hell had I just agreed to?
_[End of Chapter 3 - To be continued…]_
- Writer
