Chapter 4 Leander #2
An hour later, restlessness clawed at Leander’s chest like a caged animal.
He had attempted to focus on quarterly projections, reviewed blueprints twice without absorbing a single detail, and found himself staring at his phone more often than his computer screen.
The carefully structured routine that usually anchored his thoughts felt inadequate against the storm Camille had unleashed in his mind.
This is ridiculous.
He pressed the intercom with more force than necessary.
“Travis, my office. Now.”
His cousin appeared within minutes, his eyes already narrowed with curiosity. Travis sat in the chair across from his desk with practiced ease, crossing one ankle over his knee.
“Let me guess,” Travis began, amusement threading through his voice. “You’re about to ask me something about Camille while pretending it’s routine business.”
Leander’s jaw clenched. “What’s your assessment? Any red flags I should know about?”
“Direct as always.” Travis leaned back, studying him with the kind of scrutiny that had made him invaluable. “She’s sharp, eager, and honestly overqualified for the position. Organized to a fault, which you’ll appreciate. No concerns on my end.”
The response should have satisfied him, but instead it only sharpened his focus. “Did she mention anyone during orientation? Previous connections or social obligations?”
Travis blinked, clearly puzzled by the specificity. “Should she have? She was professional, asked intelligent questions about company protocols and project timelines. Why would she volunteer personal information on her first day?”
I need to know who else is circling her.
The possessive thought struck him with uncomfortable force. Leander forced his expression to remain neutral.
“She had an odd reaction when she mentioned Damian’s name during the schedule review.”
Understanding flickered across Travis’s features, followed immediately by a smirk that made Leander’s lion pace.
“Ah.” Travis’s tone carried the satisfaction of solving a puzzle. “Same social circles, his ruthless charm, her family’s connections. Probably had a fling. Seems plausible.”
The casual suggestion hit Leander like a slap.
Heat flared through his chest, primitive and violent, his lion surging forward with territorial fury that caught him completely off guard.
The image of Damian’s hands on Camille, his mouth against her throat, his calculated seduction dismantling her carefully maintained composure—
Mine.
The word roared through his consciousness with such force that his vision darkened at the edges. Only years of practiced control kept him from standing, from pacing, from doing something that would reveal the depth of his reaction to Travis’s knowing gaze.
“Maybe,” Leander managed, his voice steady despite the storm beneath it.
Travis’s eyebrows rose slightly, clearly noting the tension radiating from his cousin despite his attempt at indifference.
“Leander—”
“That’s all I needed. Thank you.”
The dismissal was abrupt enough to earn him a searching look, but Travis rose without argument. The moment the door closed, Leander dragged both hands through his hair and forced himself to breathe.
Control yourself now.
Two hours later, The Metropolitan Club’s dining room buzzed with the quiet murmur of power lunches and calculated conversations, crystal glasses catching the afternoon light that filtered through tall windows overlooking Central Park.
Leander sat at a corner table, his posture deceptively relaxed while every muscle remained coiled with tension.
Damian had arrived twenty minutes late—a deliberate power play that fooled no one—and slid into his seat with the kind of predatory grace that had always grated against Leander’s nerves.
His rival looked every inch the successful developer in his charcoal suit, his dark blonde hair perfectly styled, and his blue eyes sharp with ambition.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Damian said without a trace of apology in his voice. “Traffic was awful today.”
The lie was as transparent as Damian’s intentions, but he merely nodded toward the menu. “Shall we order?”
“Let’s skip the pleasantries.” Damian leaned forward, his smile all teeth and no warmth. “I have a proposition that could benefit both our companies.”
Here we go.
Leander settled back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Damian’s face. “I’m listening.”
“The Whitmore account. The Riverside towers project. Three others in your portfolio.” Damian’s fingers drummed against the white tablecloth.
“Transfer them to Cross Development, and I’ll make it worth your while.
My connections with the zoning committee could expedite your Lexington project by months. ”
The audacity struck Leander like a punch. Those clients represented years of relationship-building, millions in revenue, and Damian wanted them handed over like party favors.
“No.”
The single word carried absolute finality, but Damian pressed forward as though he hadn’t heard it.
“Think strategically, Drake. You’re spread thin with the Lexington development. These smaller projects are distractions. Let me handle them while you focus on your flagship—”
“The answer is no.” Leander’s voice remained calm, but his lion prowled beneath the surface, recognizing the challenge for what it was. “Those clients chose Drake Holdings for a reason. I won’t betray their trust for your convenience.”
Damian’s smile faltered for just a moment before reasserting itself with renewed intensity. “You always were too sentimental about business relationships. It’s a weakness, you know.”
Like hell it is.
The waiter appeared, providing a brief reprieve as they ordered—salmon for Leander, steak for Damian, both rare. The irony wasn’t lost on him that they were two predators circling each other over lunch.
“The Lexington project is ambitious,” Damian continued once they were alone again. “Some might say overambitious. What happens if you can’t deliver on schedule? Your reputation—”
Leander’s phone buzzed against the table, cutting through Damian’s veiled threat. Camille’s name flashed on the screen, and something in his chest shifted instantly—concern overriding every other consideration.
Damian’s eyes tracked to the phone, and Leander watched recognition flicker across his features.
“Excuse me.” Leander answered without hesitation. “Camille, what’s wrong?”
Her voice carried an edge of urgency that made his protective instincts flare. “I’m sorry to interrupt your lunch, but there’s a contractor here demanding answers about the Lexington project. He says his crew was supposed to start demolition today, but our permits show next week. He’s... agitated.”
Heat crawled up Leander’s spine—not desire this time, but pure territorial aggression. Someone was causing problems for his mate, and every fiber of his being demanded immediate action.
“I’ll be right there.”
Across the table, Damian’s expression had shifted from calculated charm to something far more dangerous.
“Was that Camille St. James?” Damian’s voice carried a sharpness. “The beautiful socialite? Why is she working for you now?”
The possessive tone in Damian’s voice sent warning signals through every nerve.
“She’s my new assistant.”
“Assistant?” Damian laughed, but the sound held no humor. “That’s beneath someone of her caliber, don’t you think? I thought she was destined to run her mother’s charity foundation.”
“Why do you suddenly care what Camille does?” The question emerged rougher than intended.
Damian’s smile turned predatory. “Because I’m courting her now. Her parents introduced us two nights ago.”
The world tilted.
Rage—primal, violent, and utterly consuming—exploded through Leander’s chest like molten steel. His vision turned red as his lion surged forward with territorial fury.
She’s MINE.
The mate bond pulsed with absolute certainty, recognizing the threat for exactly what it was. Damian wasn’t just a business rival anymore. He was competition for his fated mate, a predator circling what belonged to Leander by right of bond and instinct and something deeper than either of them.
His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white with the effort of restraining himself from reaching across the space between them and showing Damian exactly what happened to rivals who threatened what was his.
Control.
“Excuse me,” Leander managed, his voice barely steady. “I have an emergency to handle.”
He stood with deliberate precision, every movement calculated to prevent the explosion building in him from manifesting in violence that would destroy more than just this lunch.
Damian’s satisfied smirk followed him as he walked away, but Leander didn’t trust himself to look back. One more second in that chair, one more word about Camille from Damian’s mouth, and he would have done something that couldn’t be undone.
The walk back to Drake Holdings felt endless, every step accompanied by the thunderous realization that everything had changed. Damian wasn’t just pursuing business leverage—he was pursuing Camille. Pursuing Leander’s mate.
His lion paced nonstop, protective instinct sharpening into something unyielding and absolute. The careful restraint he had spent years perfecting felt suddenly irrelevant in the face of this threat.
Damian Cross would not touch what was his. Not socially. Not romantically. Not in any world where Leander still drew breath.
The doors of Drake Holdings came into view, and with them, one truth settled with crystalline clarity. He would protect Camille from Damian—from anyone who threatened her—even if it meant dismantling every wall he had built to keep himself safe.