The Billionaire’s Hidden Mate

I had to muster up all my courage to step into the building. The glass doors of Wolf Enterprises were so spotless that they mirrored the lively street behind me. They reflected the taxis, pedestrians, and my own nervous face. For a brief moment, I was caught in a reflection that showed two versions of myself: one that had the freedom to turn back home, and the other forced by necessity to move forward. Holding my bag tightly, I felt the weight of my resume copies, a barely working pen, and an envelope containing overdue hospital bills. They were already three months late. My mother, always the optimist, encouraged me not to worry. Even in her weak state, with her shaking hands hardly hidden, she comforted me. "Go," she had whispered that morning, "It's just a job interview." But it wasn't just a job. It was my lifeline. As I pushed open the doors, a rush of cold air surrounded me. The lobby was luxurious, with marble floors, silver light fixtures, and high ceilings that echoed every sound. Employees in their tailored suits rushed past me, their confidence contrasting with my anxiety. I felt out of place. The security guard gave me a quick look before glancing at my slightly worn heels. "Name?" "Aria Bennett. I'm here for the assistant position." He checked his list, nodded, and handed me a temporary badge. "Thirty-second floor." As I rode the elevator, I wondered why powerful men always chose to work at the top of buildings. My stiff, serious reflection stared back at me from the mirrored wall. I tried to adjust my borrowed blazer, remembering my friend Lily's advice: "Try not to look terrified." I was failing miserably. Exiting the elevator, the atmosphere changed. Up here, it was quieter. The carpet muffled footsteps, the walls were darker, providing a sense of privacy. The few employees I passed didn't even bother to smile. At the reception desk sat a woman with sharp features and perfectly styled hair. "I'm Aria Bennett," I introduced myself. She quickly assessed me. "You're early," she noted. "I thought that would be better." "It usually is." After a brief pause, she dialed a number. "Miss Bennett is here." Another pause. "Send her in." Then she pointed me to the second door on the left. The black matte door was intimidating. I knocked and entered at the sound of a controlled voice from within. The office was larger than my apartment, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering an endless view of the city skyline. A huge, immaculate desk sat in the center, everything perfectly in place. He stood by the window, his back to me. Tall, with broad shoulders, his black suit seemed tailored just for him. "You're early," he said without turning. "Yes, sir." A silence followed, the type that makes you overly conscious of your own breathing. Finally, he turned. Lucien Wolf was not what I expected. Younger than anticipated, his face was sharply defined with high cheekbones and a stern mouth. His steel gray eyes were the most unsettling, as if they could see more than they should. "You're not what I expected," he stated calmly. Feeling my stomach tighten, I asked, "May I ask what you expected?" "Experience." "I have experience." "Not enough." His response wasn't loud; it didn't need to be. I managed to maintain my gaze. "Then why hire me?" "I didn't," he replied, "Human Resources did." His words hurt more than I cared to admit. As he moved toward his desk, there was a certain precision and restraint in his steps. He then asked, "Why do you want this position?" The truth was that I needed it. I was desperate. My mother's medication was more expensive than what I earned in a month. But those answers felt too personal, too vulnerable. So, I responded, "I work hard. I learn quickly. And I don't quit." "Everyone says that." "I don't." His eyebrow lifted slightly. It seemed he found my answer intriguing. He opened a file - my file. "You left your last job suddenly." "Yes." "Why?" "My mother became ill." He looked up slowly. "And that won't interfere with your work?" "No, sir." His gaze lingered a moment longer. He explained the job's demands: long hours, absolute dedication, and the occasional need to cancel personal plans. "I don't have many," I responded. Something that looked like amusement flashed across his face. He stood, instructing me that my desk was outside his office and that I would begin immediately. As I turned to leave, he warned, "Miss Bennett, if you make a mistake, I will not hesitate to replace you." I nodded once. "Understood." "One more thing," he added. His gaze was sharper now. "Do not enter my office after sunset." His request was unexpected, and when I asked why, he paused before responding softly, "Because you won't like what you see." A chill ran down my spine as I left his office, his words echoing in my head. The first few hours were a whirlwind of emails, calls, scheduling conflicts, and documents that needed reviewing. He worked at an inhuman pace, assigning me more tasks before I could finish the first. By noon, I hadn't even had a glass of water. At two, a woman with red lipstick and a tight smile stopped at my desk. "You're the new one?" "Yes." "They don't usually last." "I plan to." "We'll see." As she walked away, I realized my hands were clenched. I was determined to prove them wrong. By seven, most employees had left, but his office light remained on, and so did mine. As I was organizing contracts, I heard a strange, low growl coming from his office. Frozen in place, I tried to dismiss it as just the air conditioning or the building settling. But then I remembered his warning. Not to enter after sunset. The time was 7:18 PM. The growl came again, closer this time. My heart pounded as I found myself standing, taking steps towards his door. This was stupid. If he needed help, he would call. But then I heard something heavy hitting wood. Without thinking, I pushed the door open slightly. "Sir?" Silence. "Mr. Wolf?" I saw him standing near the window, his posture rigid and hands clenched. He commanded me to close the door, his voice deeper, rougher. Upon entering, I explained, "I heard a noise. I thought—" "Leave." The word was strained. He turned, and my heart stopped. His eyes weren't gray anymore. They glowed, faintly, a wild silver. "Miss Bennett," he said, his voice dangerously quiet, "You were instructed not to enter." My pulse hammered in my ears. "I'm sorry." The air felt heavier. He took a step towards me, and I realized he wasn't just angry, he was struggling with himself. "Go," he warned again. Backing slowly towards the door, I was almost out when he spoke up. "Aria." The way he said my name sent shivers down my spine. "Yes?" His eyes still glowed faintly, and for a moment, I saw something raw, something dangerous. "You have no idea what you've just stepped into." I fumbled for the door handle and left. But as I walked down the empty hallway, one thought kept echoing in my mind: That was not normal. And I had just signed a contract with something that wasn't entirely human. End of Chapter 1.