Alpha's STOLEN Mate (by Abigail Hayes) novel Chapter 43

Chapter 43

Elowen

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Twenty minutes later, I was trapped in the passenger seat of his BMW, presentation materials scattered across my lap like armor while he carved through downtown traffic with predatory precision. The leather portfolio contained everything I needed to convince Ryder Vance

that I was worth the astronomical commission I planned to extract from his company.

“Key points,” I muttered, drilling through charts and graphs with military focus. “Diversified portfolio, balanced risk–reward ratio, quarterly performance reviews…” Each rehearsed line felt like loading ammunition for the battle ahead.

Cassius’s gaze burned into me with unsettling intensity. “I’ve never witnessed anyone quite as… consuming as you are. When I first discovered you in that pathetic little diner, I knew you had potential. But this transformation?” His voice dropped to something almost possessive. “You’ve exceeded my wildest expectations.”

I looked up from my notes, genuine warmth flickering despite my wariness. “Still not enough,” I said, but his words ignited something dangerous in my chest. When I’d first crawled into this city–broken, desperate, worthless–Cassius had been the only one to see anything salvageable in the wreckage.

“You know,” Cassius continued, his voice turning velvet–soft as he deliberately caught my eyes, “you’re absolutely stunning and brilliantly intelligent. Elite men would wage wars to claim someone like you.”

The compliment hit like a backhanded slap. Everything I’d conquered–in both human and wolf worlds–had been through blood, sweat, and sheer fucking determination, not to become some powerful man’s trophy.

Cassius misread my silence completely, leaning closer with predatory confidence. “When you eventually marry, money would become irrelevant. I have countless elite connections in my circle, or perhaps…” His voice became intimate silk. “Someone much closer than you

think.”

Heat flooded my face as he invaded my personal space, the implication in his words crystal clear. This was obliterating the line between friendship and territory I had absolutely zero interest in exploring.

“Speaking of strategy, Cassius,” I said with surgical precision, deliberately burying my face in presentation materials to create distance, “what approach should we take with this client? Any landmines to avoid?”

Cassius retreated with visible frustration, his golden hair catching light as he ran agitated fingers through it. Don’t concern yourself with tactics,” he said, arrogance creeping back into his tone, I’ve dismantled difficult clients before. Ryder Vance is famously whipped–his wife puppeteers everything, making him pathetically insecure and indecisive. Project confidence and authority, and we’ll have him begging to sign contracts.”

His smile turned predatory. “My reputation in this industry is legendary. We’ll own him within minutes,”

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Apex Holdings occupied three floors of gleaming downtown real estate, all marble and glass screaming new money desperation. The receptionist guided us through corridors lined with abstract art that probably cost more than most people’s annual salaries to an imposing corner office where Ryder Vance waited behind a fortress of mahogany.

He matched Cassius’s description perfectly–mid–forties, soft around the edges, radiating the nervous energy of someone perpetually expecting criticism. His handshake was firm enough, but his eyes darted constantly as if his wife might materialize to audit his decisiones

“Ms. Ashford…” Ryder began, then his gaze landed on my companion and transformed into genuine shock. He practically launched himself from behind the desk, extending his hand like greeting royalty. “Mr. Fernsby! I had no idea you’d be gracing us personally. Please, both of

you, make yourselves comfortable.”

Cassius practically preened with satisfaction.

I settled into my chair with practiced elegance, arranging presentation materials with the same precision I’d once used to orchestrate military campaigns. But when Cassius positioned himself beside me, he sat close enough that his thigh nearly pressed against mine–an

invasion that made my skin crawl.

“I’m tremendously excited to hear your investment strategies, Ryder continued, obsessively checking his expensive watch. Though I should mention, I’ve invited additional perspective. Another set of expert eyes, you understand.”

Before I could demand clarification, the office door opened and another man entered. Tall and lean, dressed in dark jeans and navy pullover, with a baseball cap shadowing unruly brown hair. Bluetooth earbuds glinted beneath disheveled strands.

“Apologies for the delay,” he said with an apologetic smile, his voice carrying refined authority that contradicted his casual appearance. “Traffic was absolutely brutal.”

Something about him triggered every instinct I possessed. His movements were liquid grace incarnate, controlled power wrapped in deceptive casualness. When he looked up, his blue eyes–deep navy, almost indigo–trapped mine with unsettling intensity.

Why does he feel like déjà vu wrapped in danger?

He claimed the chair beside Ryder with fluid elegance, natural authority radiating from every controlled movement despite his relaxed

attire.

“Meet my premier financial consultant, Mike,” Ryder announced, beaming like he’d just unveiled a secret weapon, “He’s here to dissect your proposal from a professional perspective.”

My stomach plummeted into hell. Fuck. My entire strategy is profit maximization disguised as expertise. A real expert will gut me in seconds.

Cassius’s hand landed on my knee beneath the table, his thumb beginning slow circles against my skirt. When I shifted away, he leaned closer, his mouth practically brushing my ear.

“Relax,” he whispered, his breath scalding my skin. “I’ll handle everything.”

The intimate contact made my wolf snarl with revulsion. This wasn’t support–this was claiming behavior that made my teeth ache with

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the urge to bite.

“Shall we begin?” I said sharply, trying to inject professional authority while subtly escaping his unwelcome touch.

“Absolutely, Ryder replied, sliding my portfolio across the desk. “Let’s have Mike examine your materials first.”

Mike accepted the folder with those graceful hands, scanning pages with focused intensity that suggested genuine expertise. I held my

breath, waiting for him to eviscerate my projections or expose my methodology.

Instead, he looked up with mild curiosity, his gaze shifting between me and Cassius like a predator evaluating prey. When he spoke, his

voice carried that same refined calm that set my nerves on fire.

“Before we discuss investment strategies,” he said with deceptive casualness, tilting his head like a wolf scenting blood, “I have to ask–is

this gentleman who apparently can’t control his wandering hands your boyfriend?”

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The question detonated like a bomb in the pristine office. Ryder’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline, Cassius went rigid as stone beside me, and I felt my jaw unhinge in shock.

What the actual hell just happened?

Of all the professional catastrophes I’d prepared for, having a complete stranger call out Cassius’s inappropriate behavior with surgical precision wasn’t even on my radar. His tone remained perfectly polite, almost conversational, but there was winter steel underneath that reminded me of barely leashed predators and coming storms.

“I…” I started, then realized I had absolutely no framework for responding to such devastating directness.