Wolvenmark - The Forbidden Mate

Chapter 2 : Coffee Spill Frustration

Chapter 2 : Coffee Spill Frustration

Al's POV

The meeting went better than I expected—not that I had high hopes to begin with. Maybe I've just gotten used to these things dragging on, filled with the usual back-and-forth that never really goes anywhere. Afterward, I stuck around for some small talk before slipping out of the conference room. I needed coffee.

I headed to the office café, the one place that served it just the way I liked. The moment I walked in, the barista spotted me and got to work without a word. She always did. I wasn't sure how long she'd been here—probably longer than I could remember—but that didn't matter. What did matter was the way she looked at me. Something about it unsettled me, though I couldn't quite put my finger on why.

I grabbed my coffee the second it hit the counter and walked out. No waiting in line, no unnecessary pleasantries. People here knew who I was, and that came with certain privileges. Not that I cared much for most of them, but this? Skipping the line, getting what I needed without delay? This, at least, was convenient.

"Ooopss—" The words barely escaped my lips before I felt a sharp impact. My body slammed into someone as I turned quickly, my pace too fast for the crowded café. My irritation shot up instantly.

"I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, sounding panicked as he frantically tried to wipe the coffee stains off my coat with a towel.

I froze, glaring at him. I could hear the gasps of everyone around us—what a mess this was turning into. Then came the deafening silence, like the entire café had held its breath.

I glanced down at my coat, now ruined by the splashes of coffee. "Oh my gosh!" I sighed heavily, trying to fight off the rising frustration. "Great, just great. My favorite coat is ruined." I glanced around, but no one moved.

I wiped my face with my hand, trying to calm down. "Good thing it's dark. The stain's not as noticeable…" I muttered, my patience already fraying.

"I'm really sorry," he said again, this time in a more apologetic tone, and he continued trying to clean the mess, his hand shaking a little as he wiped the fabric.

"Yeah, I get it," I snapped, feeling the anger rise again. "But seriously, do you not see people walking around here? You couldn't have taken a second to—"

But then something happened. I stopped mid-sentence. Something… something shifted. That smell. It was subtle at first, just a faint trace, but then it grew stronger—soft, warm, and unfamiliar. I inhaled deeply without thinking. My anger froze, like it had been abruptly put on pause.

It was unlike anything I'd ever smelled—rich, smooth, and almost intoxicating. Was it his cologne? The coffee? No, this wasn't like any coffee smell I'd ever encountered before. I looked at him, my irritation forgotten for a moment, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. What was that scent?

"Uh, sir?" His voice broke through my thoughts, and I blinked, snapped back to the moment. "Are you okay?"

I stared at him for a second, confused. Was I… was I still mad? I looked at the towel he was holding, then back at him, before awkwardly clearing my throat. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I muttered, the frustration in my voice fading somehow. "It was my fault too, I guess. I should've been paying attention."

I felt an odd calm wash over me, like I was suddenly in a completely different space, even though we were still standing in the middle of the café. My fingers instinctively moved to help him wipe at the stain on my coat, though the usual rage I'd expect to feel was… gone.

"I really didn't mean to bump into you," he said again, still holding the towel, his face flushed with embarrassment. "This is so embarrassing."

"No, no, it's fine." I waved him off, though part of me was still trying to wrap my head around the change in my mood. "It was an accident. Happens to the best of us." I forced a smile, and I couldn't help but notice how genuine his apology felt.

He hesitated for a moment, then looked me right in the eye, his voice softening. "I can make it up to you—get you a new coat or... something. If you want?"

I paused, blinking, still distracted by that strange scent that still lingered in the air. "A new coat?" I repeated, a small laugh escaping me. "I mean, it's not that bad. I'll live."

But something about his offer felt… different. Was he serious? Was it his nervousness making him say it, or was there more to him than I'd first thought?

For a second, the café seemed to fade into the background, and all I could think about was that strange scent.

"Really, it's fine," I finally said, my voice softer now, the edge of annoyance slipping away. "Don't worry about it." I gave him a small smile, even though my thoughts were still swirling around the smell. Whatever it was, it was getting under my skin in the strangest way.

He nodded, but his eyes seemed to linger on me for a moment too long, like he was waiting for something. I couldn't put my finger on it—what was going on? Why was this so… different?

"Well, I—uh—hope your day gets better," he said awkwardly, still holding the towel in his hand like he didn't know what to do with it anymore.

"Yeah, thanks," I said, giving him another smile, though my mind was still on that scent. "Take care."

As I walked away, something gnawed at me—a shift, subtle yet undeniable. A minute ago, I’d been a breath away from exploding, my temper simmering too close to the surface. But that scent… that strange, intoxicating scent had disarmed me in an instant. Now, it was all I could think about, threading itself into every breath I took.

Coffee? Forgotten. My mind wasn’t anywhere near caffeine anymore. The scent lingered faintly, like a whisper at the back of my senses, and it was maddening. Warm, rich, alive—nothing ordinary. Nothing ignorable.

The elevator doors slid open with a muted chime, and I stepped inside, shrugging off my coat with a slow exhale. The enclosed space only magnified the distraction. My reflection in the mirrored walls looked as composed as ever—sharp suit, cool expression, the mask of a man in control. But beneath that, my chest was tight, my thoughts tangled.

The elevator dinged again. My floor.

The doors parted, and before I could take more than a step, a familiar figure hurried toward me.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Silvermoon!” she panted, clutching a thick portfolio like it was about to slip from her grip. Breathless, she thrust it forward. “Here are the applicant files for the executive secretary position. You may review these profiles and let us know whom we should proceed with.”

I accepted the portfolio with a nod, my gaze brushing over her but not lingering. My hand held the folder loosely, as though the weight of paper couldn’t compare to the weight of something else pulling at me. That scent… it refused to leave.

Even now, faint as a shadow, it still pressed against my memory. Not just pleasant—it was distracting, intrusive, the kind of thing that rooted itself in the back of your skull and refused to let go.

Shaking my head, I moved on, pushing open the door to my office. The room welcomed me with its quiet grandeur: towering glass windows, the city sprawling out beneath a golden wash of late afternoon sun. The skyline gleamed, skyscrapers catching the light like blades of steel. I lingered there for a heartbeat, grounding myself in the view. It was the only stillness I ever found at the end of days cluttered with meetings and endless decisions.

Eventually, I pulled away and sank into my chair, the leather creaking softly under my weight. The portfolio sat in front of me like a task I didn’t want but couldn’t avoid.

“Alright,” I muttered under my breath, flipping it open. “Let’s see who we have.”

File after file blurred together. Polished résumés, crisp photos, professional smiles. Names, credentials, achievements—all impressive, all the same. None of them sparked even a flicker of interest.

Until—

A name stopped me.

Rubeus Midnightwalker.

My brows knit. Unusual. Not just the name—the applicant himself. Male. It wasn’t unheard of, but rare. Secretarial positions here had always drawn women with flawless presentations and carefully curated poise. But the gender wasn’t what held me—it was recognition.

Rubeus.

I froze.

It was him. The guy I’d collided with earlier.

I sat up straighter, pulling his file closer. Details skimmed beneath my eyes, but my thoughts were elsewhere, narrowing in on that moment. The rush. The jolt. The scent.

So, he was here for the position.

My hand tightened on the folder before I even realized it. Without hesitation, I reached for the intercom, my voice cutting sharp through the quiet.

“HR. Get in here. Now.”

The confirmation came, and I hung up. My eyes drifted back to his photo, then his name again. My fingers tapped against the paper, restless.

What was it about this man? Why did my chest feel tight just looking at his file?

And worse—why did my mind conjure that scent the moment I saw his name?

My jaw flexed. Almost without thinking, I brought the folder closer, a ridiculous thought whispering through me: maybe the paper carried a trace of it.

I stopped myself short, blinking hard.

What the hell am I doing?

The absurdity of it hit me, and a dry laugh slipped out. Was I seriously about to smell a résumé? Damn it. Maybe fatigue was finally breaking me. Then again… my instincts had never lied before. I was an Alpha, and my senses were sharper than most could imagine. If even a hint of that scent clung to the page—

Stop.

I rolled my shoulders back, forcing composure into place as a knock rattled the door. My heart thumped once, heavy and unexpected, before settling again.

“Come in,” I called, voice steady.

The door creaked open, and an HR staffer stepped inside, their expression neutral.

Without pause, I handed them the file.

“Call this person. ASAP.” My tone left no room for questions. “He starts tomorrow.”