Wolvenmark - The Forbidden Mate

Chapter 5 : The Scent of Mystery II

Chapter 5 : The Scent of Mystery II

Ruby's POV

Shock rippled through me, tightening every nerve in my body as my eyes locked onto him. My breath caught. The man from yesterday. The one I had bumped into in the café. No way.

He was the CEO.

For a second, the world tilted, my mind scrambling to connect the pieces. So the scent—this strange, intoxicating trace that clung to me since yesterday—it belonged to him.

He hadn’t noticed me yet. His head was bent over his computer screen, fingers tapping across the keyboard with measured precision. The tension in the room grew unbearable, thick like static in the air, until his voice sliced through it.

“What took you so long?” His tone was sharp, clipped—impatient. He didn’t even look up.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted, gripping the coffee cup tighter, heat searing through my palms. “I went to the café on the first floor, and there was a line th—”

“What!?” His groan was sharp, exasperation rolling off him. Finally, he tore his gaze from the monitor, pinning me with those stormy eyes I remembered all too well. “There’s literally a coffee maker on the counter in your office.” His brows drew together, irritation flashing like lightning. “I put that there so no one has to go all the way to the café for my coffee.”

My throat went dry, words fumbling on my tongue. “I—I’m s-sorry,” I stuttered, thrusting the cup forward with trembling hands. “I d-didn’t know.”

Something flickered in his expression. The sharpness in his gaze softened almost instantly, as if he regretted snapping. His tone shifted, warmer, almost coaxing. “It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

And then—he smiled.

The sight caught me completely off guard. It was brief, but enough to unravel the knot of dread twisting in my stomach.

“Don’t be afraid,” he added, his voice lighter now, almost teasing. “I’m not the terror boss people make me out to be. I don’t want you getting the wrong idea.”

My heart skipped.

He stood, his presence overwhelming the room as he rounded the desk. Each step carried an effortless authority, but when he reached me, his movements were startlingly gentle. His fingers brushed mine as he took the coffee, and I nearly flinched at the spark of contact.

“Thank you,” I murmured, though my voice sounded small, barely steady against the erratic pounding of my heart.

He didn’t return to his desk. Instead, he strode to the sofa set, placing the coffee carefully on the glass table before lowering himself into the cushions with the ease of a man settling into his own domain.

I stood frozen, unsure whether to retreat or wait for dismissal. But his eyes—those unreadable eyes—lingered on me. There was something unspoken in them, something that made my skin prickle. Normally, I could read people with ease. A flicker of a brow, the curl of a lip, the shift of posture—every detail told a story. But with him?

He was unreadable. An enigma.

And then—

Was he… sniffing?

His nose twitched ever so slightly, like he was catching onto something in the air. My pulse spiked. What on earth was that about?

Before I could process it, he shrugged off his coat and tossed it casually onto the sofa beside him. His fingers tugged at his tie, loosening it with a careless grace, then moved to the top button of his shirt, freeing it before he slipped off his polished shoes. A low sigh escaped him as he sank deeper into the cushions, as if shedding the weight of his day.

I stayed rooted to the spot, clasping my hands together, unsure whether to look at him or the floor. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken tension.

This job was already proving to be a whirlwind, and it had only just begun.

He reached for the coffee, lifting it slowly. Steam curled upward as he took a measured sip, his gaze never wavering from me. When he set the cup back down, a ghost of a smirk touched his lips.

“Hey, sit down,” he said casually, voice threaded with amusement. “Why are you just standing there? You look weird.”

A chuckle slipped from him, low and unguarded, as if the situation amused him more than it should.

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. My thoughts tangled—What does he want now?—but I forced my feet to move.

Hesitantly, I stepped closer. He patted the empty cushion beside him, a silent command disguised as an invitation.

Even though every instinct screamed at me to keep my distance, I obeyed. Slowly, cautiously, I lowered myself onto the seat next to him.

The cushion dipped beneath my weight, and just like that, the air between us shifted again—thicker, heavier, charged with something I couldn’t name.

"Why do you look so stiff? Are you nervous or something?" he asked, tilting his head slightly as he studied me. "Was it because of yesterday? Or are you just having a bad day?" He took another sip of his coffee before glancing back at me.

"N-no, I'm okay," I replied hastily. "Maybe just adjusting to the new environment." My hands unconsciously gripped my pants as I stared down at my knees. I could feel his eyes on me, his silence speaking louder than words.

Suddenly, his arm draped over my shoulder, giving me a small shake.

"Look, there's nothing to be afraid of," he reassured me, his voice softer. He leaned in slightly, and that same odd behavior returned—he was sniffing. It was subtle, but I could tell. Was he smelling me? My stomach twisted uncomfortably. Did I smell bad No, I used deodorant. I just didn't wear perfume.

"Gosh, you're so silent." He laughed lightly, pulling away and settling back into his relaxed position. I exhaled, trying to shake off my unease.

"So, tell me everything about you," he said abruptly, his voice smooth but carrying an undertone of curiosity that felt far too personal for a first real conversation.

I blinked at him, arching a brow. "Why are you even asking that?"

He turned his head toward me so fast it was almost comical, caught off guard by my bluntness. For a beat, he just stared—then suddenly, he threw his head back and laughed.

"Can't I?" he teased, his eyes glinting like he’d found a new game.

"I mean…" I crossed my arms, fighting the heat rising in my cheeks. "It just seems out of place. That’s all."

"Yeah, yeah, I see," he said, the laughter simmering down to a grin that looked dangerously charming. "You’re so different."

"Different?" I asked, suspicion tugging at my voice.

"Because you’re quick-witted. Interesting." He tilted his head, studying me like he was trying to solve a riddle. Then, after a long sip of coffee, he added, almost to himself, "You’re… different."

I smirked, leaning in a little. "Why?" I repeated, mimicking the same question he had used earlier.

His gaze locked with mine, steady and sharp. For a moment, I thought he might actually answer. But then he shook his head and looked away. "Nothing. Just never mind."

My smirk widened. "Oh no, you don’t get to dodge the question this time."

He groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes. "Fine. I just meant… most people are predictable. I already know how they’ll act before they do. But you?" He leaned back further into the sofa, legs stretched out, his shoes tapping against the coffee table like he owned not just the office but the world. "You’re not predictable."

I studied him right back, letting silence sit between us before finally speaking. "You’re exceptional as well."

That got his attention. He blinked, then turned to me with genuine surprise. "Why?"

I let a mischievous smile tug at my lips. "Nothing. Just never mind."

His brows furrowed, and for a second he wore a stern, almost dangerous look. "And who gave you permission to do that to me?"

I froze, guilt rushing up. "I—I’m sorry—"

"Just kidding!" he burst out laughing, reaching over with a quick, bold move to ruffle my hair.

"Stop!" I yelped, swatting his hand away as I scrambled to fix the mess he made. "You’re ruining my hairstyle!"

He laughed harder, clearly amused by how flustered I looked. "Seriously though," he said once he caught his breath, eyes still dancing with mischief. "Why’d you say that?"

I shrugged, smoothing down a stubborn strand. "I don’t know. You just give off that vibe."

His expression shifted, turning thoughtful in a way that almost unnerved me. "What vibe?"

I met his gaze steadily. "Whenever I look at you, I can never tell what you’re going to do next. I can’t predict you. And that makes you interesting."

A faint smirk pulled at his lips. "But I’m not even thinking about anything."

"Exactly!" I laughed, shaking my head. "You look like you are, but you’re not. It’s confusing."

He leaned back, staring up at the ceiling, his voice dropping lower, almost unguarded. "Your vibe is really calming," he muttered. "Your voice. Your energy. Your image… and your scent."

My heart skipped a beat. So I hadn’t imagined it earlier—he was sniffing me. His words lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken, until he suddenly seemed to realize what he’d admitted.

Clearing his throat sharply, he shot to his feet, adjusting his tie with practiced efficiency, as though putting back on a mask. "Okay, get back to work," he said, striding toward his desk with a little too much determination.

I sighed, rising slowly. "See? This is exactly what I’m talking about."

He glanced at me from behind his desk, a small chuckle escaping him despite himself. "I see it now."

"And this!" I gestured at him with exasperation. "The sudden mood shifts. I swear you’re bipolar."

He grinned, completely unbothered. "Maybe."

"Anyway," I said, folding my arms. "Is there something you actually wanted me to do?"

"No, nothing," he replied smoothly, flipping through a neat stack of documents like I wasn’t even standing there.

I frowned. "Then why did you call me here?"

He looked up, meeting my gaze with a calmness that only deepened my confusion. "I just wanted to check on you. That’s all."

My chest tightened with an emotion I couldn’t name. "Oh… well, okay then. I’m going."

I turned toward the door, pressing the unlock button. Nothing.

Confused, I pressed it again. Still nothing.

"Seriously?" I muttered under my breath.

When I turned back, I caught him leaning casually on his desk, one hand resting against a sleek control panel. He wasn’t even trying to hide his amusement. His lips twitched as if he was fighting laughter.

"What?" I demanded, narrowing my eyes.

"Nothing," he said, but his grin betrayed him.

"Let me out!" I groaned, stomping my foot like a child before I could stop myself.

That did it. He broke into full laughter, his head tipping back as though he hadn’t laughed like this in years.

And all I could think was: What on earth have I gotten myself into?

"Okay, okay!" He laughed, finally pressing a button. A soft click sounded, and the door unlocked.

I pulled it open, scowling. "What is wrong with you?" I muttered.

"I heard that," he called out, still grinning.

I bit my lip, suppressing a smile. "I didn't mean to say it out loud."

"Sure," he drawled, leaning back in his chair.

"By the way, how old are you?" I asked suddenly.

He raised an eyebrow. "Huh? 23. Why?"

I smirked. "That explains a lot."

His eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I just turned and walked away, leaving him to wonder.