Chapter 8 Leander
EIGHT
LEANDER
Leander operated on discipline, control, and the ability to compartmentalize emotion into neat, manageable boxes.
But none of it mattered today. Camille’s kiss replayed in his mind with the persistence of a song stuck on repeat—the softness of her lips, the way she’d leaned into him like trust was instinct, and the small sound she’d made when he’d pulled her closer.
And now she was moving into his home.
His lion prowled restlessly beneath his skin, oblivious to the rational qualifiers his human mind supplied. Temporarily. Logically. Innocently. The beast understood only proximity, protection, and the intoxicating reality that his mate would be sleeping under his roof.
During the board meeting that afternoon, he caught himself smiling at absolutely nothing, his pen tapping an erratic rhythm against his leather portfolio like a man waiting for permission to abandon his own carefully constructed life.
The presentation on market projections blurred into background noise as his thoughts circled back to the memory of Camille’s hands threading through his hair and the way her breath had hitched when he’d deepened their kiss.
Travis noticed immediately. Of course he did.
After the last board member filed out, Travis lingered, leaning against the polished mahogany conference table with a knowing grin that made Leander’s jaw tighten.
“Alright,” Travis said, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Who are you and what have you done with my cousin?”
Leander straightened his tie with deliberate precision, avoiding Travis’s penetrating stare. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You smiled. During Harrison’s budget presentation. No one smiles during Harrison’s budget presentations. Hell, Harrison doesn’t smile during Harrison’s budget presentations.” Travis crossed his arms, his expression shifting from teasing to genuinely curious. “What’s going on?”
The truth sat heavy on Leander’s tongue.
He hadn’t told anyone about the mate bond yet, hadn’t admitted that somewhere deep in his chest lived a hollow ache that only seemed to quiet when Camille was near.
But Travis had earned his trust through years of unwavering loyalty, and the secret felt suddenly too large to carry alone.
“Camille is moving in with me,” he said finally, the words coming out more defensive than he’d intended. “At least for now. Her parents just kicked her out, and I was gracious enough to offer her a place to stay.”
Travis’s eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. “Gracious. Right.” He studied Leander’s face with the intensity of someone solving a puzzle. “And this has nothing to do with the way you’ve been staring at her like she hung the moon since she started working here?”
Heat crept up Leander’s neck. “She’s my assistant. I’m just looking out for her welfare.”
“Bullshit.” The word was delivered with Travis’s trademark bluntness. “You’ve never given a damn about any of your assistant’s living situations before. What makes Camille so different?”
The question hung between them. Leander’s lion stirred, recognizing the moment for what it was—a crossroads between continued secrecy and the relief of finally speaking the truth.
“She’s my fated mate.”
Travis went completely still, his casual posture straightening as the implications sank in.
“Wow, Leander.” Travis ran a hand through his tousled hair. “You’re playing with fire bringing her to live with you. Restraint feels a lot different when she’s sleeping down the hall. Your lion won’t be able to control itself with her in that close proximity.”
“It will be fine,” Leander said, the words coming out sharper than intended. “Nothing is going to happen. She needs stability right now. That’s all this is.”
Travis’s laugh was short. “Yeah, right. Good luck with that.”
He pushed off from the table and headed toward the door, pausing at the threshold to throw one last observation over his shoulder. “For what it’s worth, she seems like she might be worth the risk.”
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Leander alone with the weight of his decision and the uncomfortable truth that Travis was probably right. But Camille needed him, and that trumped every rational argument his mind could manufacture.
At four o’clock, he found himself standing outside Camille’s office, watching her organize files with the same meticulous attention to detail she brought to everything.
The late afternoon sun streaming through the windows caught the gold in her blonde hair, and something in his chest tightened with an emotion he wasn’t ready to name.
“Ready to leave?” he asked, stepping into her space.
She looked up, those blue eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty that made his protective instincts surge. “Sure. If we leave now, we’ll have time to swing by Serena’s place and get my things, then get back to your place for dinner. I could make something for us there.”
“I’ll cook,” he said, the offer surprising them both. “Let me take care of everything tonight.”
Her smile was soft, transforming her face in a way that caused his pulse to quicken.
“That’s very kind of you.” Her expression suddenly clouded. “I should tell you something though,” she said softly. “I was supposed to go to dinner with Damian tonight. I texted him to cancel, and now he’s being... pushy.”
The mention of Damian’s name sent a low growl rumbling through Leander’s chest. His lion pressed against his skin, territorial and aggressive, demanding action. “If he bothers you anymore today, I’ll take care of it.”
“I don’t want you getting in the middle of—”
“I already am.” He held her gaze as he pointed to his bruised jaw. “I’m not going to let him continue to make you uncomfortable.”
The relief that flickered across her face felt like a victory far bigger than any business deal he’d ever closed. She gathered her things, and they left the sanctuary of Drake Holdings for the uncertain territory of living together.
Thirty minutes later, Serena’s apartment was a warm chaos of books, art, and the lingering scent of jasmine candles. The woman herself was exactly what Leander had expected based on Camille’s descriptions—sharp-eyed, protective, and entirely unimpressed by his wealth or status.
“So you’re the famous Leander Drake,” she said, extending a hand with a grip that was surprisingly firm. “Camille’s told me a lot about you.”
“All good things, I hope.”
Serena’s smile was enigmatic. “Let’s just say you’ve made quite an impression.”
As they gathered Camille’s belongings, Serena worked with efficient grace. When Camille disappeared into the bathroom to gather her toiletries, Serena turned to Leander with an expression that was equal parts gratitude and warning.
“Thank you for giving her a place to stay,” she said simply. “She could have stayed here, but it would have been cramped. The fact that you offered... it means a lot. You’re a good guy, even if her parents don’t see it.”
The statement lingered with him as they finished packing, settling into his chest with unexpected warmth.
It mattered—knowing that Camille had someone who saw her clearly, someone who had protected her long before he’d entered her life, and someone who recognized him for what he was: a man who only wanted the best for the woman who had somehow become the center of his world.
When they were finally leaving Serena’s apartment, Serena grabbed Leander’s arm, her hazel eyes holding his with unexpected gravity.
“Take care of her,” she said, the words carrying weight beyond their simplicity. “She deserves someone who sees her worth.”
The responsibility settled into his chest. “I will.”
Outside Serena’s building, Manhattan’s evening energy thrummed around them as Leander flagged down a taxi.
The yellow cab pulled to the curb with practiced efficiency, and he helped load Camille’s three modest suitcases into the trunk—everything important to her fitting into such a small space struck him as both heartbreaking and telling.
The ride to his penthouse passed in comfortable quiet, city lights streaming past the windows as Camille sat close enough that her subtle perfume wrapped around him like temptation. His lion prowled restlessly, hyperaware of her proximity and the promise of having her in his territory soon.
Fifteen minutes later, the marble lobby of his building gleamed under crystal chandeliers, all polished surfaces and understated luxury that spoke of old money rather than flashy new wealth.
Camille’s blue eyes swept the space with quiet appreciation, taking in details without the calculating assessment he was accustomed to from visitors who saw only dollar signs.
In the elevator, Leander shifted her largest suitcase to his other hand, the confined space making her closeness almost unbearable in the most exquisite way.
“Would you like to arrange to get your other things from your parents’ place at some point?” he asked, watching the floor numbers climb.
She shook her head, her blonde hair catching the elevator’s soft lighting. “I’ll have everything moved over. You don’t need to worry about that. I don’t want to be any more trouble than I already am.”
The words hit him wrong, sparking protective irritation. “You could never be trouble for me.”
Her eyes softened, and the elevator seemed to shrink around them as something electric passed between them. When the doors opened onto his penthouse level, Leander felt as though he was crossing a threshold that would change everything.