13. Poppy #2
But when his deep brown eyes darkened as they traveled over her yellow sundress—taking in the way it hugged her curves and left her shoulders bare—heat flooded her system with embarrassing intensity. Through their bond, his desire hit her like lightning, making her skin flush and her breath catch.
"Come in," he said, his voice rougher than usual as he stepped back to give her space. "Dinner's ready and waiting in the dining room."
She moved past him, hyperaware of the way his intoxicating scent of cedar and rain wrapped around her like an embrace.
The brief moment when their bodies almost brushed sent electricity racing down her spine, and she had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other rather than turning around and pressing herself against that magnificent chest.
"Did you find the place okay?" he asked as they walked deeper into the estate.
"Yes, and this territory is simply breathtaking." The words came out steadier than she felt, though she could hear the slight breathiness that betrayed her reaction to his proximity.
His smile—genuine and filled with obvious pride—transformed his entire face, making him look younger and less controlled. "My great-grandfather chose this location specifically for the views. Said a wolf needed space to run properly and be free."
They soon arrived at the dining room with its heavy oak doors already opened, and when she stepped inside, the space took her breath away for entirely different reasons.
Where his Manhattan penthouse had been all sleek lines and minimalist elegance, this space spoke of family history and warmth.
The massive table could easily seat forty people, but he'd transformed one end into an intimate setting with flickering candles casting dancing shadows across fine china and crystal glasses.
Two place settings sat close together—his at the head of the table, hers adjacent—creating a pocket of romance within the grand space.
He made this romantic on purpose.
The realization sent her pulse skittering even as her lioness purred with need. This wasn't just dinner between business partners. This was a date, complete with all the careful attention to detail that spoke of a man trying to impress the woman he wanted.
"Thank you," she managed as he pulled out her chair, the gentlemanly gesture at odds with the predatory intensity she could feel radiating from him.
When he took his seat, she finally looked down at the plate before her and gasped. The meal was a work of art—perfectly seared salmon with what looked like a complex sauce, vegetables arranged with restaurant-quality precision, and delicate garnishes that spoke of serious culinary skill.
"This looks amazing. Did you make this yourself?"
His smile widened, revealing that devastating dimple that made her want to trace it with her tongue. "Yes, I told you I was a pretty good cook, remember?"
Her lioness was purring incessantly now, completely charmed by this softer side of the powerful Alpha. "By the looks of this, I'd say you're better than just pretty good."
His expression grew even more pleased, and she had to force herself to look away before she did something catastrophically stupid like lean across the table and kiss him senseless before they even enjoyed their meal.
They ate in comfortable silence for several minutes, but the mate bond was anything but quiet.
His emotions flowed through their connection—joy at having her in his home, desire that made her skin burn, contentment at this simple domestic moment, and underneath it all, something deeper and more dangerous that made her ache with want.
Her own feelings mixed with his in a dizzying symphony—happiness at seeing him relaxed and in his element, safety in this warm space that felt like home, desire that grew stronger with each passing moment, and a comfort that terrified her with its intensity.
"So, we're set to break ground on the land in a few days," he said eventually, his voice carrying the satisfaction of someone who'd moved mountains to make something happen. "The construction timeline is looking really good."
She wanted to ask how he'd managed to expedite permits and approvals that should have taken months, but the words that came out of her mouth surprised them both.
"That's great news, but maybe we can talk about something other than business tonight?"
He looked confused for a moment, then relieved, as if she'd given him permission to drop a mask he'd been wearing. "Sure. What do you want to talk about?"
This was her chance—to see the man underneath the Alpha and billionaire CEO facade, to understand what drove him beyond duty and responsibility. "Tell me about your childhood."
He stiffened slightly, his fork pausing halfway to his mouth, but then his shoulders relaxed as if he'd decided to trust her with something precious.
"My father was really rigid. Controlling doesn't even begin to cover it.
" His voice carried old pain wrapped in careful neutrality.
"I became this straight-A student, excelled in combat training, mastered every business principle he threw at me.
I was hyper-competent in every area because that's what pleased him. "
She could picture it—a young Keiro pushing himself to perfection, desperate for approval from a man who probably never gave it freely.
"But I secretly craved more. I wanted to pursue my creativity—my drawing and architecture.
I was actually going to tell him that I'd been accepted into the top architectural program in the country.
" His laugh held no humor. "I was planning to have that conversation, had already planned the whole thing out in my head, had planned for his rejection.
Then he suddenly died of a heart attack just days before I was going to reveal my acceptance letter. "
The parallel to her own story hit her hard. She knew exactly what came next—the moment when dreams died and duty consumed everything.
"What happened?" she asked softly, though she already knew.
"Well, I was eighteen when that happened and too young to know how to handle such impossible things.
So I didn't go to college. I stepped up instead, became Alpha and CEO of my father's company.
" He shrugged as if it were nothing, but she could feel the weight of that sacrifice through their bond. "The rest is history."
"I'm sorry for your loss." The words carried more weight than he probably realized—she was mourning not just his father's death, but the death of a young man's dreams, the architecture career that never happened, the choice that was stolen from him.
"Things happen," he said with forced casualness. "The good news is, ever since I met you and we became partners, I get to use my architecture skills again. At least for a little while."
Her heart clenched at the quiet joy in his voice. She'd given this man a piece of himself back—a piece he'd lost sixteen years ago. The realization filled her with warmth.
"Your turn. What exactly happened with your father?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with concern and curiosity in equal measure.
The question hit her like ice water, and she felt her throat constrict as grief she'd never fully processed rose to the surface. She cleared her throat, fighting back the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.
"Well, my father was murdered when I was twenty-one.
We suspect it was connected to his financial troubles, but it's still unsolved.
" The words came out clipped, professional, as if she were giving a report rather than discussing the worst day of her life.
"Instead of focusing on vengeance, I chose to move forward. So I stepped up and became Alpha."
She could feel his attention sharpening, his protective instincts engaging even across the small space between them.
"The pride was shocked by my decision. They thought I'd want to focus on finding my father's killer, or that I was too distraught to handle leadership.
But I stepped up because that was my birthright, and I wasn't going to throw that away because I was sad, or angry, or unprepared.
" Her voice grew stronger, carrying the steel that had gotten her through years of proving herself.
"Sure, I thought I'd be married when I finally became Alpha, but things happened and I adjusted. "
The silence stretched, heavy with shared understanding.
When she finally looked up, his expression made her chest ache.
He was looking at her like he really saw her—not the Alpha, not the exhausted leader, but the woman underneath who'd fought for everything, who'd pushed down grief and anger and uncertainty to protect her family's legacy.
"Poppy." Her name was a prayer on his lips. "I'm so sorry for your loss. You are the bravest, strongest, most remarkable woman I have ever met in my life."
Something inside her cracked at the recognition in his voice, at the validation she'd been craving for eleven years but had never allowed herself to need.
Whether it was the old emotions rising to the surface and lowering her walls, or his words finally giving her permission to stop pretending, she couldn't say.
But at that moment, she stopped fighting.
She stood from her chair and moved to him with predatory grace, settling into his lap as his arms came around her automatically. The rightness of it—being held by him, surrounded by his strength and warmth—undid her completely.
She cupped his face in her hands and crashed her lips against his, the world exploding into sensation and need and everything she'd been denying herself for far too long.