Chapter 8 #3
He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. Dark circles shadow his eyes despite the coffee cup in his hand. His normally pristine suit is wrinkled. But there’s satisfaction in his expression as he drops into the chair across from my desk.
“It’s all arranged,” he says without preamble. “She viewed the penthouse last night at seven o’clock. Signed the lease on the spot.”
Relief floods through me. “And?”
“The place was emptied two days ago.” He stifles a yawn. “Paid the human tenants a ridiculous sum to relocate immediately. Three times their annual rent plus moving costs. They were more than happy to take the money and go. The apartment is completely vacant now.”
“Good.”
“I still don’t understand why you wouldn’t let me furnish it.” He takes a long drink of coffee. “I have an interior designer on retainer. Could’ve had the whole place done in a day. Top-of-the-line everything.”
I lean back in my chair, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Furnishing an apartment is half the fun. It’ll give her something to look forward to. Something to focus on.”
Something to care about.
Ethan studies me for a moment, then shakes his head. “You’re really doing this.”
“Yes.”
I reach into my desk drawer and pull out a glossy flyer, which I slide across to him.
He picks it up, and his eyebrows shoot up. “Marks and Woodsons? My furniture company?” His eyes narrow as he scans the page. “Why does it say seventy percent off everything this month? We have luxury items in that store, Darius. High-end pieces that cost thousands. A discount like this would—”
“I know.” I cut him off. “It’s just for Violet. Make sure your stores know to implement it for her purchases only. All of them. I’ll cover the difference out of my own pocket.”
A slow grin spreads across his face. “I should charge you more, then.”
I give him an annoyed look.
He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll handle it. But for the record, you’ll be spending more on furniture discounts than most people make in a year.” The grin fades, replaced by concern. “It’s a pity you can’t tell her you’re doing all this for her.”
My jaw tightens. “She’d never accept anything from me. Not directly.”
“Because she doesn’t trust you.”
The words hit harder than they should. “Yes.”
Ethan stands, draining the last of his coffee. “You want me to have the realtor give her this? Or should I leave it in the penthouse somewhere?”
“Leave it in the penthouse. Make it look natural. Like it was left by the previous tenant or came in the mail. Put it with some other generic flyers so it doesn’t stand out.”
“You’ve thought this through.”
“I’ve had time to think.”
He pauses at the door, one hand on the frame. When he looks back at me, his expression is sincere. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing. Even if it is killing you.”
He leaves before I can respond.
I turn back to my wall of glass and gaze at the empty desk where Violet should be sitting.
She doesn’t trust me. The truth of it settles like a stone in my chest.
But I can still provide for her. Still make sure she has everything she needs. It’s my right as her mate, even if she doesn’t know that’s what I am.
Even if she never will.
I pull up employee records on my computer, fingers moving automatically until I find her file. Her salary is decent, appropriate for her position and experience level. But it’s not enough. Not for what I want to give her.
I make a note to have accounting issue a performance bonus. Her work has been incredible, some of the best analysis the division has produced in years, so it won’t raise questions. Entirely justified. Completely above board.
My wolf stirs, satisfied with the plan. We’re taking care of our mate. Providing for her. Protecting her the only way she’ll allow.
I lean back in my chair, staring at the rows of empty desks outside my office.
She needs reasons to live. Reasons to care about her existence. If I can’t be one of those reasons, then I’ll create some for her.
An apartment. Furniture. A space that’s entirely hers. Small things that might add up to something bigger. Something worth living for.
I just hope it’s enough.
Violet is really enjoying furnishing her new place.
I study her discreetly through the glass wall of my office. For the fourth time this week, she rushed out during lunch, her bag slung over her shoulder, her steps quick and purposeful. Every day since she first viewed the penthouse.
I know exactly where she’s going because Ethan sends me updates.
Not because I asked him to spy, but because he’s coordinating the discounts across all his stores.
Furniture stores, home goods shops, even a kitchen supply place yesterday.
She’s hitting them all with the enthusiasm of someone finally able to build something that’s her own.
The change in her is visible.
There’s a lightness to her movements that wasn’t there before. A spark in her eyes when she returns from lunch, shopping bags in hand or delivery confirmations on her phone screen that she studies with obvious satisfaction.
Warmth unfurls in my chest every time I see it.
Yesterday, she picked out a couch. I know because Ethan sent me the receipt summary with a grinning emoji.
A sectional in soft gray with cream and navy throw pillows.
Apparently, she spent two hours in the store, testing every option before choosing.
The sales associate said she kept running her hands over the fabric, checking the cushion depth, even lying down on three different models before deciding.
The day before, she bought dishes. An entire set of white porcelain with delicate blue trim around the edges. Service for eight, even though she lives alone.
Today she returns with bags from a home décor store, and when she sits down at her desk, her lips are pressed together in a way that makes me think she’s humming. Yes, she’s actually humming, her shoulders moving in time with some rhythm only she can hear.
I smile despite myself.
The others in the office are noticing, too.
Sarah stops by Violet’s desk mid-afternoon, leaning against it with a friendly grin. With my office door open, I can hear her say, “You’ve been in a good mood lately.”
Violet looks up, and that spark is there. Bright and genuine. “I just moved into a new apartment. Been furnishing it all week.”
“Oh, that’s exciting!” Sarah’s smile broadens. “It’s so satisfying making a space your own, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” My wolf preens at the happiness in her voice. “It’s exhausting but fun. I never realized how much I’d enjoy picking out furniture and decorating.”
“Whereabouts did you move to?”
“The human district. Near the shopping centers.”
“Oh, perfect location to find furniture, then.” Sarah straightens. “Hey, you should throw a housewarming party once you’re all settled.”
Violet’s eyes widen slightly. “A party?”
“Yeah! Show off your new place. We could all come over, bring wine, make it a thing.” Sarah glances around. “Right, guys?”
Julian looks up from his desk. “I’d come.”
“Me too,” one of the analysts chimes in.
More voices approve of the idea, and a couple of people even come over to Violet’s desk to discuss it. I lean forward slightly, drawn by the transformation happening in my mate. That spark has become a flame. She’s thrilled. Thrilled at the idea of people wanting to spend time with her.
That feeling of warmth spreads through my chest again.
Rachel’s voice cuts through the moment like a blade.
“Makes sense you’re moving over there.” She doesn’t look up from her computer, but her tone drips with mockery.
“You’re barely a shifter, so it’s no wonder you feel more at home with humans.
I bet our kind wouldn’t rent so much as a storage unit to something like you. ”
The flame dims slightly in Violet’s eyes. Through the glass, I see her smile falter, just for a moment.
Before I can move, before I can storm out there and put Rachel in her place, Sarah shoots her a look that could freeze fire.
“Let me know when you want to do it, Violet,” Sarah says loudly, deliberately ignoring Rachel’s comments. “I’ll bring my famous spinach dip.”
“I will. Thanks, Sarah.”
The group disperses, heading back to their work. But there’s a difference. They’re including her now. Gravitating toward her in a way they haven’t before.
My wolf settles, content in a way he hasn’t been in weeks.
The afternoon passes slowly. I try to focus on work, try to review the alliance protocols that need my attention. But my gaze keeps drifting to Violet. To the way she’s actually smiling at her computer screen. To the energy in her movements that has been missing since she returned.
To the life that’s coming back into her eyes.
Near the end of the day, she appears at my office door with a stack of files. I look up, and my breath catches.
She’s glowing.
“Alliance reports from this quarter,” she says, her tone professional as she steps inside. “You wanted them by the end of the day.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
I take the files from her, and our fingers brush each other for just a moment. Electricity shoots up my arm, and I see her pupils dilate slightly before she pulls back.
She turns to leave.
“I hear you’re throwing a housewarming party.”
She freezes mid-step. I can see the tension creeping back into her shoulders and the way her hand tightens on the doorknob.
“Am I invited?”
The question hangs in the air between us.
She doesn’t turn around. “You can come.”
The words are flat. Reluctant.
But they’re permission.
Triumph surges through me, hot and immediate. My fingers tighten on the files before I force them to relax. I have to fight to keep my voice neutral. “When is it?”
“Saturday. Seven p.m.” She glances back, her eyes guarded. “Sarah’s organizing the details. I’m sure she’ll send out information.”
“I’ll be there.”
A look of resignation flickers across her face. Or maybe it’s dread. But she just nods and leaves, pulling the door closed behind her.
I sit back in my chair.
Saturday. I have three days to find the perfect housewarming gift.
Three days, and I’ll get to see the space that’s hers alone. To witness what she has created. To be in her home, even if she doesn’t really want me there.
My phone buzzes with a text from Ethan: You’re going to need to rein in that smile before someone sees it.
I glance up and catch my reflection in the glass wall. He’s right. I’m grinning like an idiot.
I school my expression and return to work. But anticipation coils in my chest, warm and electric.
Saturday, I’ll be in her apartment. In the world she has built for herself. The home I helped give her without her knowing.
And maybe, just maybe, she’ll smile at me the way she smiles when talking about her new throw pillows.
It’s pathetic. I know it is.
But right now, the thought of that smile is all I have.