13. Poppy
THIRTEEN
POPPY
The past week had unfolded like a beautifully orchestrated symphony punctuated by moments of pure chaos, leaving Poppy suspended between triumph and torment in ways that made her question everything she thought she knew.
Rewarding barely scratched the surface of what she felt when Keiro had delivered his final architectural drawings—technical masterpieces that transformed their shared vision into something tangible and breathtaking.
The sketches revealed a retreat that seemed to grow organically from the woodland, guest cabins nestled among ancient oaks, a main lodge with soaring windows that invited the forest inside, and training facilities that honored both wolf and lion traditions without compromising either.
His cost projections were meticulous, his revenue forecasts conservative yet promising, and his construction timeline ambitious but achievable.
When she'd presented everything to the pride elders, their reaction had stunned her.
Leon, typically skeptical of any deviation from tradition, had studied the drawings with growing excitement.
Marie had actually smiled—a genuine expression of hope that Poppy hadn't seen in years.
Even the most conservative elders had nodded approvingly as she explained how this retreat could generate the revenue needed to save their pride lands while creating something revolutionary for their entire region.
"This partnership appears to be functioning well," Leon had admitted grudgingly. "Perhaps your decision to work with the wolf Alpha wasn't as reckless as we initially feared."
The validation should have felt like victory. Instead, it left Poppy with a hollow sensation in her chest, because their approval hinged on a business relationship that was becoming increasingly impossible to separate from something far more complicated and dangerous.
Eighty-three days. That's all that remained to prove this partnership could save everything.
But the week had also been eye-opening in ways that made her chest ache with longing she couldn't afford.
Every brief business meeting with Keiro became the highlight of her day—moments she found herself anticipating with an eagerness that terrified her.
Their quick lunches at the diner stretched longer than necessary, filled with conversations that veered from technical details of the project to more personal questions about their daily lives with alarming ease.
Even their phone calls, mainly focused on construction permits and zoning requirements, left her pulse racing and her lioness purring with satisfaction.
The mate bond had become a constant presence, that invisible thread connecting her to Keiro growing stronger each day.
She could feel his emotions bleeding through their connection nonstop—his determination to make their project succeed, his frustration with pack politics she didn't fully understand, and underneath it all, a desire for her that made her skin burn with remembered pleasure.
But most frustrating of all was her body's betrayal.
Every night, lying alone in her bed, Poppy found herself remembering that perfect morning in his penthouse—how he'd worshipped her body with reverent hands and a clever mouth, and how he'd made her feel cherished in ways she'd forgotten were possible.
Her lioness demanded she stop this foolish resistance and claim what belonged to them, but her rational mind recoiled from the complications that would follow.
Yet, the fantasies came without warning, usually in the quiet moments when her defenses were lowest. She'd find herself imagining his hands on her skin, his deep voice murmuring her name, and the way he'd looked at her like she was something precious rather than just competent.
And through their bond, she could sense when he was thinking of her too—waves of masculine desire so intense they left her gasping and reaching for the cold shower like a lifeline.
What terrified her most wasn't the wanting itself, but what giving in would mean.
If they became a couple—really became a couple—what kind of pushback would they face?
The elders were cautiously optimistic about their business partnership, but how would they react to learning Keiro was her fated mate?
Would they see it as manipulation, just like Sander's increasingly vicious rumors suggested?
Her cousin had been busy this week, spreading whispers about her desperation and her willingness to use her feminine charm to secure financial backing. The accusations stung because they contained just enough truth to be dangerous.
Poppy dragged herself from bed, her muscles protesting after another restless night of fighting the mate bond's relentless pull.
The morning light streaming through her windows should have felt hopeful, but instead it illuminated the weight of everything she carried—pride leadership, financial crisis, political maneuvering, and now this impossible attraction to a man who could either save her or destroy everything she'd built.
She needed to focus on what she could control: making this retreat the best thing their region had ever seen, proving to everyone that wolves and lions could work together successfully, and showing her pride that she was the Alpha they needed.
Maybe then, if everything went perfectly, she could stop resisting the bond and start living her life.
But that would mean figuring out who Poppy Mintz was underneath all the struggle and burden and hyper-independence—a prospect that terrified her more than any financial crisis ever could.
Who was she if she wasn't constantly proving herself worthy and constantly living in survival mode?
Her phone rang on the nightstand, interrupting the spiral of anxiety that threatened to consume her morning. Keiro's name appeared on the screen, and her heart immediately began racing.
"Good morning, Keiro," she answered, fighting to keep her voice steady.
"Good morning, Poppy." His deep voice carried warmth that made her toes curl involuntarily. "I was thinking it might be nice to have dinner together tonight. Actually talk for longer than a quick phone call or rushed lunch."
Dangerous.
This was absolutely dangerous territory. They'd been carefully maintaining professional boundaries all week, and dinner at his place would shatter those walls completely.
"Besides," he continued, his tone taking on a playfully commanding edge, "I owe you a home-cooked dinner. Fair's fair."
Her rational mind screamed warnings about the wisdom of spending an evening alone with her fated mate when the sexual tension between them had been building to unbearable levels. But her traitorous mouth had other ideas.
"That sounds good."
"Perfect. I'll text you the address of my family's estate in the Catskills. Seven o'clock work for you?"
She should make an excuse. Should claim prior commitments or urgent pride business. Should do anything except agree to spend an intimate evening with the one man who could make her forget every lesson she'd learned about self-preservation.
"Yes, that works. I'll see you at seven."
The words escaped before she could stop them, sealing her fate with casual efficiency that would have impressed her if she weren't busy panicking about what she'd just committed to.
"Looking forward to it," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice—satisfied and anticipatory in ways that made heat pool low in her body.
After ending the call, Poppy stared at her phone with growing dread and excitement warring in her chest. This would be a test of her willpower, her ability to maintain professional boundaries when every instinct demanded she claim what belonged to her.
But as she headed toward her shower, anticipation already building for the evening ahead, she suspected she was about to discover just how little willpower she actually possessed when it came to resisting Keiro Izell.
Hours later, standing before the imposing oak doors of the Izell family estate, Poppy fought the urge to smooth her yellow sundress for the third time in as many minutes.
The massive stone structure rose before her like something from a dream—all soaring towers and elegant arches that spoke of centuries of accumulated wealth and power.
Ancient ivy climbed the walls in carefully manicured patterns, and the grounds stretched endlessly into the twilight, dotted with mature oaks that had probably witnessed generations of pack gatherings.
Her nerves spiked despite her best efforts to remain calm. Through their mate bond, she could feel Keiro's own carefully suppressed anxiety mixing with anticipation, creating a cocktail of emotions that made her pulse race.
He's as nervous as I am.
The thought should have been reassuring, but instead it only amplified her own jittery energy. She pressed the doorbell, the melodic chime echoing somewhere deep within the estate. Seconds later, the door swung open to reveal Keiro, and every coherent thought fled her mind.
Gone was the impeccably dressed CEO in his perfectly tailored suits and expensive watches.
This version of Keiro wore dark jeans that hugged his powerful thighs and a white henley that stretched across his broad chest, the top buttons undone just enough to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of tanned skin.
His dark hair looked slightly mussed, as if he'd been running his hands through it, and the casual attire only emphasized the predatory grace that was always present but usually hidden beneath layers of corporate polish.
Her lioness surged forward with violent approval, demanding she forget dinner entirely and drag him upstairs to claim what belonged to them. The urge was so strong she had to grip her purse tighter to keep herself from reaching for him.
Calm down. You came here for dinner and conversation. Not to jump the man in his own doorway.