4. Osias
FOUR
OSIAS
Osias forced himself to breathe through the chaos erupting inside his chest. Every instinct screamed at him to abandon professional courtesy and cross the space between them and claim what belonged to him.
His lion prowled beneath his skin, demanding he forget about meetings and portfolios and wrap his mate in his arms until she understood exactly what she meant to him.
Celina Bates is my fated mate.
This woman—Academy Award winner, global superstar, the most recognizable face in Hollywood—had been his fated mate for thirty-four years without either of them knowing it.
She’d been living her life in the spotlight while he’d been building his empire, and somehow the universe had conspired to keep them apart until this precise moment.
He’d watched her films. Admired her talent.
Even found himself inexplicably drawn to her interviews and red carpet appearances.
Now he understood why his attention had always lingered on her performances, and why something about her had always felt familiar despite never meeting her.
Because his lion had been recognizing what his human mind couldn’t comprehend until now.
“Mr. Fellan?” Her voice held a note of uncertainty that suggested she’d been waiting for him to speak.
He cleared his throat, fighting to maintain the composed facade that had served him through countless high-stakes meetings. “Please, call me Osias. I understand you wanted to discuss your production company.”
His VP had provided basic details yesterday, but Osias needed to hear her explain what she wanted from him personally. More importantly, he needed time to process the mate bond without doing something that would send her running from his office.
She shifted her weight in her chair, reaching for the leather portfolio she’d been gripping like a lifeline.
Her knuckles had gone white from the pressure, and he could see the slight tremor in her fingers that suggested she was experiencing something just as destabilizing as he was.
Her human senses wouldn’t recognize the mate bond for what it was, but she was clearly feeling the pull between them.
“I was hoping you could look over this portfolio.” She extended the folder toward him across his desk. “It includes Bates Films’ mission statement, our current projects, our past work, and future plans if we can secure proper funding.”
When he reached for the portfolio, their fingers brushed again. Another jolt of electricity shot through his system, more intense than the handshake, making his lion roar with satisfaction. She gasped softly and her green eyes widened just before she pulled her hand back quickly.
She feels it too.
He opened the portfolio, forcing himself to focus on the professionally organized contents rather than the way her lavender and rain scent was filling his office and making it impossible to think clearly.
Every page revealed meticulous preparation of her company’s project summaries and artistic statements that spoke to genuine passion for storytelling.
“I have to admit,” he said, looking up from the documents, “I’ve researched your company before and also seen several of the films you’ve put out.”
Her entire face lit up with genuine surprise and pleasure. “Really?”
“Yes, I’m quite impressed by the authenticity. The storytelling feels real in ways that most Hollywood productions avoid.”
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to achieve.” Her response came with the kind of passionate intensity that caused his chest to tighten. “I only take projects that are truly inspiring and honest. Not the marketable junk that Hollywood churns out. No offense to you and your projects.”
The comment was so unexpectedly direct that he laughed out loud—a real laugh that surprised them both. “Well, I try to balance our junk with the good stuff.”
She blushed, the color rising in her cheeks making her even more beautiful than the carefully photographed perfection he’d seen in magazines. “I know that. I’ve followed your career closely. You offer opportunities to lesser-known writers and directors that other studios won’t touch.”
She’s been watching me.
The knowledge that his mate had been following his professional choices, studying his company’s decisions, sent a surge of pride through his chest. She’d been paying attention to him for years without knowing what he was to her, just as he’d found himself inexplicably drawn to her work.
His slight obsession with her Oscar-winning performance in Rainbow Ridge suddenly made perfect sense.
He turned to the financial spreadsheet tucked into the back of the portfolio, and his expression grew more serious.
The numbers painted a bleak picture that he recognized from his own early days building Fellan Entertainment.
Those first three years were brutal for any independent production company, and Bates Films was only two years old.
“These financial projections aren’t good,” he said carefully.
“Yes, I know.” Her honesty was refreshing after years of Hollywood meetings filled with creative accounting and optimistic projections. “We’re struggling to fund the projects we want to make.”
“Well, I could offer investment capital for your company.” His response came out before he’d fully processed the decision, but his lion purred with satisfaction at the prospect of providing for his mate. “And I’d be interested in partnering with you on some projects, if you’d like.”
Her face transformed with hope and relief so pure it made his chest ache. “I would really appreciate that and would love to work closer with you.”
Closer.
His lion practically preened at her choice of words, interpreting the professional statement as something far more personal.
He wanted to be closer to her in every way imaginable, wanted to learn everything about the woman beneath the celebrity polish, wanted to discover what made her laugh and what kept her awake at night.
“Great. I’ll send over a contract tomorrow along with a good faith investment.” He paused, knowing he was about to cross a line from professional to personal. “Maybe we could meet for drinks tonight? Get to know each other better and brainstorm some ideas.”
She hesitated, and something flickered across her face—uncertainty, maybe concern about fitting another obligation into what was probably an overscheduled life. Then she seemed to make a decision.
“Sure. I can clear my schedule. Mancini’s at eight, if that works for you?”
He didn’t hesitate despite knowing his own evening was packed with meetings and calls that would need to be rescheduled. “That sounds perfect.”
She stood up, extending her hand again with a smile that made his heart race. “Thank you for this opportunity. I look forward to tonight.”
He stood up and shook her hand across his desk, allowing himself to linger a moment longer than professionalism required, breathing in her scent and memorizing the warmth of her skin against his.
When she finally pulled away and headed for his office door, he remained standing behind his desk, watching her leave and trying to process the fact that his entire world had just shifted on its axis.
The day passed in a blur of voices and presentations that might as well have been white noise.
Osias sat through three consecutive meetings—one with a director pitching a documentary about climate refugees, another with his international distribution team discussing European market expansion, and a third reviewing quarterly profit margins that should have demanded his complete attention.
Instead, his mind kept drifting to the memory of emerald silk stretched across curves that belonged to his fated mate, and the way Celina’s genuine smile had transformed her from Hollywood perfection into something far more dangerous to his composure.
His lion prowled restlessly, wanting to abandon corporate responsibility and track down his mate immediately.
The animal didn’t understand concepts like building trust or taking things slowly.
It understood claiming and protecting and making absolutely certain everyone knew exactly who Celina Bates belonged to.
“Osias, what’s your position on the film festival next week?”
He blinked, realizing the entire conference room was staring at him expectantly. His marketing team had apparently been waiting for his input on something he’d completely missed while mentally replaying the way Celina’s scent had filled his office like a promise.
“Whatever Cameron recommends.” Osias trusted his head of marketing implicitly, which was fortunate since his ability to focus on anything other than his mate had apparently evaporated entirely. “He knows those films better than anyone.”
The meeting concluded twenty minutes later with handshakes and follow-up emails he’d probably need his assistant to summarize later.
By the time the conference room emptied, leaving only him and Pell reviewing production schedules for the afternoon board meeting, Osias felt like he was barely holding on by a thread.
“The Celina Bates meeting went well, I assume?” Pell’s tone was carefully neutral, but his knowing look suggested he’d noticed Osias’s complete inability to concentrate.
There was no point in hiding the truth. Pell had been his advisor and mentor for fifteen years, and the older man possessed an uncanny ability to read situations that others missed entirely.
Besides, the mate bond wasn’t something that could be hidden indefinitely, especially not from someone who’d known him since he was a twenty-year-old trying to figure out how to lead a pride while simultaneously building a company.
“She’s my fated mate.”
The words came out matter-of-factly, but they landed in the conference room like a small explosion. Pell’s eyebrows shot up so quickly that his glasses nearly slipped down his nose, and for several moments the usually composed VP simply stared at him in genuine shock.