Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Leila’s POV
Five years ago
I sipped from my champagne glass, scanning the room with calculated interest, pretending to like the taste.
In truth, it was glorified fizzy vinegar in an overpriced bottle.
But at events like this, optics were everything.
So I played the part—poised, polished, palatable—while keeping my eyes on the real prize: Victor Vaughn, the CFO of Vaughn Industries.
Vaughn Enterprises was hiring an interior designer for their next big project, and I was determined to make sure that person was me.
I wasn’t going to gamble on my resume magically standing out in a pile of Ivy League credentials and trust-fund portfolios.
Truth was, my resume wouldn’t impress anyone.
I was up against Harvard and Yale graduates.
Manhattan University didn’t exactly scream elite.
And I’d only been out of school six months.
They called people like me “raw talent”, which was just a nice way of saying unpolished and unproven.
That’s why I had maneuvered my way into this high-profile pack event, one meant for Betas, their pedigreed sons and daughters, and anyone with a last name that could turn heads.
I wore my most expensive dress, smiled like I belonged, and pretended to actually enjoy the whole thing.
Just for a chance to get within arm’s reach of Victor Vaughn and chat to him.
Did I say chat?
I meant pitch.
After what felt like an eternity, he was finally alone. So, I made my move.
“Great event, am I right?”
The tall, black-haired man gave me a slow once-over before his gaze landed on my face. “You don’t mean that,” he said.
“You’re right. I don’t. And I meant for you to see right through my grim expression.” I took another sip of the fizzy vinegar and pretended to savor it. “This event could use a little less depressing music. And maybe some actual conversation that doesn’t make me want to gouge my eyes out.”
He chuckled. “You’re either excessively proud or dangerously confident.”
“Confident. Definitely confident.” I extended a hand, smiling. “Leila Carter.”
“Victor Vaughn.”
He shook my hand—held it a second too long—before releasing it.
“So, you’re not here to tell me about the fashion show in Paris? Or the latest Louis Vuitton drop?”
I laughed. “That’s what those other women were talking about?”
He sighed, dragging a finger along his collar in mock distress. It was the universal “save me” gesture.
“So, why are you here, Leila?”
That was how it all started.
I had pitched like my life depended on it—because it did. And right then and there, Victor Vaughn gave me the job.
What I didn’t know was that saying yes to him would be the first domino. The first move that would lead me straight to my Fated Mate.
To the only man I ever dared to love.
And the man who would almost ruin me.
Victor was giving me a tour of the Vaughn Industries —for reasons I still don’t fully understand—when I saw him.
No, felt him.
He was striding toward us like the world owed him something. Hands shoved in the pockets of a three-piece suit that looked expensive enough to feed my entire family for a month. Maybe more. It fit him like it was designed with nothing but arrogance and bone structure in mind.
But it wasn’t the suit.
And it wasn’t the anger stitched across his face either.
It was what she felt.
My wolf.
She didn’t just stir. She snapped. She jolted awake like someone had hooked her up to a car battery. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was a full-body, heart-slamming reaction.
And me? I was confused.
Because—seriously—what the hell?
The man hadn’t even said a word. And already, I didn’t like him.
But my body hadn’t gotten the memo.
His intense gaze was on Victor at first. But then it shifted to me.
And the moment our eyes met, I stopped moving.
No metaphor. No exaggeration. I literally. Stopped. Moving.
His eyes were this ridiculous shade of gray. Cold. Sharp. The kind of eyes that shouldn’t belong to someone with a pulse.
Something flickered in them. I don’t know what it was. Whatever it was, it made me feel like I was standing on the edge of something I couldn’t name.
And then, as quickly as it came, it was gone.
He stopped a few meters away from us, turning his sharp gaze back to Victor.
“The next time you employ one of your…playthings in my company—”
“Our company, brother,” Victor cut in, his voice clipped. Controlled. But barely.
On the other hand, I could feel my blood boiling.
Did he just…did he just call me a plaything?
Like I was some kind of office accessory Victor kept around to warm his sheets and fetch his coffee?
My jaw locked. My fists curled. My wolf growled low in my chest, but even she didn’t seem to fully understand what had just happened. Like she hadn’t quite caught the insult. Or maybe she had and just didn’t care.
Because he said it.
And apparently, when it came to him, she had selective hearing.
But I didn’t.
I heard every word. Every syllable had been wrapped in condescension and ice-cold judgment.
“HR had Alicia Montgomery from Yale already penned down for the position,” Mister Grumpy continued, tone smug enough to make my skin crawl. “And this—”
He gestured toward me like I was gum on the bottom of his shoe. “Where did she finish from?”
“Manhattan College,” I cut in, matching his tone beat for beat. “It may not be Yale, but it’s a pretty decent university.”
His scowl deepened. It was one of those death stares designed to silence everyone in a ten-mile radius.
Too bad I wasn’t everyone.
And I definitely wasn’t done.
Not by a long shot.
“Look, Mr.—” The word asshole was a razor at the edge of my tongue.
It would’ve suited him better than whatever name he carried.
“Sir,” I said instead, with just enough venom to season the civility.
“I may not have walked the gilded halls of Yale, but I earned my degree. I worked my ass off. And if you think for one second that I got this job by warming Victor’s sheets, then I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for someone who gives a damn about your approval. ”
The man with the thundercloud face took a step toward me.
Just one. But it was enough to stir the air, enough to send that jolt down my spine again.
My wolf whined, furious and…drawn. To him.
To this arrogant, scowling storm of a man who hadn’t even said his name yet and already occupied every inch of my attention.
“I don’t like being disrespected in my own company,” he said, his voice low and cutting.
“And I don’t like being called someone’s plaything,” I snapped.
His eyes narrowed. “Then perhaps don’t behave like one.”
Oh, hell no.
Victor stepped in before I could say another word. “Luca—” So that was his name. Luca Vaughn. “She’s talented. Raw, yes. But sharp. That pitch she gave me? It’s better than anything Alicia sent in. She’s got vision. And teeth.” He gestured between us. “Clearly.”
Luca didn’t respond right away. His gaze stayed locked on mine. No, burrowed into mine. I held it, even as my heart was beating like a war drum.
Then—just like that—he turned away.
He didn’t even look at me again.
I watched him walk away like he was dragging half my breath with him.
And I hated that. Hated him.
Hated that something deep in me stirred at the sight of him.
And in that moment, I had no idea if meeting him was the best or worst thing that would ever happen to me.
All I knew was…it changed everything.
When I got home, after spending the better part of the day trapped in my own head, circling back to him, I found my father at the dining table.
He had a bottle of gin in one hand, half of it already gone, and a paper in the other.
“Rent bill just came through,” he muttered without looking at me.
Another bill we couldn’t afford.
I swallowed the sigh before it escaped.
Since losing his job, I’d watched my father shrink from the man who taught me how to ride a bike without training wheels, to someone I barely recognized.
A man drowning in bills and silence. A man I couldn’t save.
It was at times like this that I wished my mother was around.
Although I had never met her, as she died while birthing me, the way my father had spoken about her—fondly, like she was his peace, his comfort—I could tell she had been a good woman.
“Hey, Dad,” I said, forcing my voice to sound light. Upbeat. Like maybe, if I said it brightly enough, it could pull him out of whatever place he kept sinking into.
He looked up and smiled. But it didn’t reach his eyes.
“How was your first day at Vaughn Industries?”
“It was…fine.”
And it was.
But also? It wasn’t.
Because I couldn’t stop thinking about the man with the steel eyes who made my skin crawl and my wolf purr.
For a second, I thought about telling him. He used to be the person I told everything to. Before he lost his job. And I missed that version of him. Missed the version of us where we still talked.
So, I pulled out a chair and sat beside him.
“Actually, Dad…” I hesitated, fingers tracing a scratch on the wood. “Something strange happened today.”
I spent the next five minutes telling him all about the asshole that is Luca Vaughn, and the emotional hurricane he stirred in me and my wolf.
When I finished, I expected…I don’t know. Sympathy? Outrage? Parental concern?
What I got was a smile.
My father stared at me like I’d just told him we won the lottery. For the first time in weeks, maybe months, there was actual joy lighting up his face.
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re smiling? I just told you my new boss practically called me a slut. And somehow, that made my wolf lose her damn mind, and you’re smiling?”
“Leila,” he said, reaching for my hands like he was about to share the meaning of life, “the gods have finally smiled upon us.”
I blinked. “How, Dad?”
He cleared his throat, pulled his chair closer, eyes gleaming.
“What you felt today. That thing with Luca Vaughn? That’s the Mate Bond.”