Edward noticed the man before he meant to.
He was leaning against her desk, too close and too familiar. His hand rested on the edge beside her coffee mug like it belonged there. Like he belonged there.
His wolf snapped awake. She is his. The thought slammed into him so hard he stopped walking.
That was ridiculous. He didn't know her. She had no place in his life, no claim on him, no history he could remember.
And yet the sight of another man occupying her space sent a surge of heat through his veins that had nothing to do with jealousy.
She laughed softly at something he said. The sound tightened his grip on the folder in his hand.
He knew he shouldn't be watching. But his body refused to move on, his attention locked on the way she tilted her head toward him, the way she didn't pull away when he brushed her arm.
Ethan said something that made her smile again.
That does it. He has had enough.
He moved before he thought, he stopped at a polite distance away, posture calm and with an even voice.
"Am I interrupting?"
She stiffened.
Ethan turned, surprised. "Uh….no. We were just….."
"Good," he cut in smoothly, eyes never leaving her. "I needed a word."
Her pulse jumped. He could see it in her throat.
Ethan looked between them, frowning slightly. "Is this work-related?"
"Yes," he said, without hesitation.
"Is this your boss?" he asked her lightly.
"No," she said too quickly. "Just… someone from work. My boss's fiancé actually." She looked at Edward.
She hesitated, then nodded to Edward before turning back to Ethan.. "I'll catch up with you later," she told him, apologetic.
Reluctantly, he stepped away, but not before giving Edward a measuring look.
He waited until he was gone.
The second they were alone, he said "You don't bring your partner to work,"
The words come out colder than he intended.
Her eyes flash. "It's not something I intended to do ."
She was right, but his wolf didn't care.
"I'm aware," he said tightly. "Still."
He opened his mouth. Nothing logical comes out.
Because his instincts were screaming.
Because every cell in his body rejected the idea of her belonging to someone else.
Her breath hitches. The honesty unsettled her more than any accusation would have.
" What do you want me to do for you Mr Drew? Miss Adams isn't here at the moment."
"Bring the files she gave you this morning. I need to see them." He said measuring her looks.
"I'm not done with them. I can bring them later." He didn't blink. "I need them now, Miss Woods." He walked away.
She gathered the folder and stood, smoothing her skirt as if composure could be pressed back into place.
The corridor toward the executive wing felt unnaturally quiet, each step drew her deeper into a tension she didn't fully understand.
She didn't reach his office when a firm hand closed around her wrist and guided her swiftly into a recessed alcove between two glass-walled offices.
It was deliberate, controlled and someone who knew exactly where the cameras ended.
She turned and it was Edward. He released her wrist but didn't step away. The space between them was narrow enough that she could feel the heat of him.
His gaze lingered on her face, then dropped briefly to her throat, where her pulse fluttered.
His hand hovered at her waist, hesitating as if he were waging a silent war with himself.
"Was that your boyfriend?"
Her breath hitched despite her resolve. "I don't want to discuss private matters, sir." She tried to free herself of his grip.
"This is a mistake," she whispered.
"Then tell me to stop. I won't cross a line if you don't draw," he murmured. "But don't deny what's already here." He looked at her chest.
Her eyes met his, gold eyes under long black lashes and black brows. High cheekbones and a very enchanting lip.
She had the most urgent desire to press her lips on his. To feel and taste it again.
He was already stepping back, letting her go when it hit him.
His hand lifted slightly, his fingers flexed as if remembering her shape without permission.
"Wait."
She froze.
Slowly, he turned back to her, "It was you, wasn't it?" he asked quietly.
Her breath catches. "What?"
"That Monday. Three weeks ago."he pressed, his voice low.
"That night. I don't remember your face, but I can feel it." His jaw tightened. "I know it was you."
She shook her head instinctively, denial rising faster than sense. "You're mistaken."
He stepped closer again. "You smell the same," he said, almost to himself. "Our bond reacts the same. And when you're near me…." His breath hitched.
"Nothing else exists."
She swallowed hard, forcing her voice to steady. "You're engaged. And you're imagining things."
His eyes lifted to hers. "I can't imagine instinct," he said.
For a moment, it looked like he might say more, like he might tear the truth out of the air between them.
"I don't know what you think you…"
He moved to her and stepped onto her space again, one hand braced beside her shoulder, the other lifting slowly, gave her every chance to stop him. She didn't.
His fingers brushed her jaws and her knees weakened. "Say the word," he murmured, forehead hovering just shy of hers.
"And I'll walk away."
"You were mine before I ever knew your name," he said hoarsely. "And I think I lost you once."
Her heart clenched.
"I don't remember you," she admitted, the truth trembling out. "I swear I don't."
His thumb brushed her lower lip. barely a touch but it sent shock through them both. Her breath hitched and his control snapped.
He kissed her again, deeper this time.
She let the folders fall off. She grabbed him by his collar and he pushed her to the wall.
He passed his fingers into her shirt and under her skirt, her hands fisted in his jacket, grinding herself against the overwhelming pull.
She moaned something into his ear and he let out an evil smile as he thrust into her and then pulled again.
"Beg for it ." He moans.