Promised to the Alfa's Son, Fated to Another

Chapter thirteen

Casey watched through the glass walls as Riley paced Henry’s office like a restless predator. Normally he was composed, cold even, but right now—he looked unsettled, almost out of balance. Her assistant Joanna leaned closer, whispering:

“Do you think Henry hit a nerve?”

“Henry doesn’t provoke anyone,” Casey murmured, though she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him.

Riley was taller than Alfie, broader through the shoulders, with the same storm-grey eyes—but softer somehow, less sharp, less predatory. His dark hair was trimmed short, neatly styled, making him look more severe. When he braced his hands on his hips, stretching the fabric of his white shirt tight across his chest, Casey’s wolf stirred. Heat flushed through her, her vision blurring for a moment as gold shimmered in her irises.

“Casey—your eyes!” Joanna hissed, clutching her hand.

Casey grabbed the mirror from her desk. Golden eyes glared back at her, her cheeks aflame. No, no, no. This cannot be happening. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing her wolf back. The last thing she needed was to betray herself—not here, not now, not when the engagement already threatened to ruin her.

The office door opened. Everyone thought Riley would storm out. Instead, he came straight for her.

He stopped at her desk, file in hand. His scent hit her first—soap, faint cologne, and beneath it something raw and unbearably familiar. Her face burned hotter.

“Are you alright?” His voice was low, unexpectedly gentle.

“Yes. It’s just… a warm day,” she managed, forcing a brittle smile. Please, God, let her eyes be green again.

“I asked Henry if you could review my new project,” Riley said, sliding the folder toward her. “I’d value your input.”

Casey sat quickly, grasping at professionalism like a shield. “Of course.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and began to scan the designs.

Riley should have stepped back. Instead, he leaned down beside her chair, as though pointing at the page.

And in that instant, the air changed.

Her wolf surged, slamming against her chest. His presence was overwhelming, his heat sinking into her skin. The faint brush of his sleeve against her arm sent sparks racing down her spine.

Riley closed his eyes for half a second and inhaled. Her scent wrapped around him—lavender, vanilla, the clean warmth of skin. His wolf clawed inside him, howling to claim, to mark, to end this torturous nearness.

Casey gripped the page but the lines blurred. She couldn’t think of the drawings—only of him beside her, his hand braced on the desk, fingers inches from hers. A treacherous thought slipped into her mind: what would those fingers feel like on her skin?

No. Stop. Remember Alfie. Remember duty.

Her wolf didn’t care. It whispered instead: closer… closer…

Then she heard it—the faint sound of Riley breathing her in.

She jolted, shoving her chair back sharply. Riley straightened at once, jaw clenched, dragging his wolf back under control. For a heartbeat their eyes met. She swore she saw silver flash in his irises.

Or was it just her imagination?

She cleared her throat. “It’s an excellent project. The designs are exceptional.”

“Would you like to work on it?” His voice was steady, though his chest still rose too fast.

“Henry approved this?”

“If you say yes, we’ll finalize the deal.”

“It will take months,” she said cautiously.

“You’ll be compensated. Henry will receive double your rate, and you’ll get a personal bonus.” He hesitated, then added awkwardly, “Not that you need it…”

Casey’s face hardened. “If my parents are wealthy, that doesn’t mean I live off them, Mr. Satton. I earn my money. And I didn’t accept your father’s proposal lightly—so keep your assumptions to yourself.”

Her words struck like a whip, but Riley only gave a faint smile, amused by her fire.

“Glad to hear it,” he said softly.

“I’ll take the job.” Casey pushed the folder back across the desk. “It’ll look good on my résumé.”

Riley nodded, satisfied. He turned to Henry, giving him a smile that confirmed the deal. As Casey gathered her sketches, Riley’s voice stopped her.

“Miss McRory,” he said, waiting until she looked up. “Tomorrow morning, you start in my office.”

And with that, he strode out.

Casey sat frozen, cheeks burning crimson.

“Jerk,” she muttered, though her racing heart betrayed her.