Four

Kendrick’s POV

I couldn’t forget her.

No matter how many nights passed, how many faces blurred together at business dinners and corporate galas, she stayed with me. The woman from that night. The one who’d looked at me like I was both her ruin and her escape.

The fire in her eyes. The sadness in her voice. The way she walked away without ever telling me her name.

I told myself it didn’t matter just one night, a fleeting moment, something best left in the dark. But weeks later, she was still there, lingering at the edges of my thoughts. Every time I walked into a room, I found myself scanning the crowd like a fool, searching for a ghost.

And then I saw her again.

It was at the Alpha Business Summit one of those events filled with sharp suits, fake smiles, and too much champagne. I wasn’t expecting anything but boredom. Until she appeared.

She stood across the hall beside the Alpha of the Vale family. Her posture was regal, her expression unreadable, but her presence… Her presence commanded the entire room.

For a moment, my body forgot how to move. My chest tightened, breath caught. The noise faded until it was just her.

And then she turned.

Our eyes met.

Everything around us fell away. I saw her hand tremble slightly as she lifted her glass, the faintest flicker of shock flashing across her face. She recognized me too.

Neither of us looked away.

God, she looked different. The fragile woman who’d clung to her glass that night, the one who’d spoken softly and carried heartbreak in every breath she was gone. The woman before me was steel wrapped in silk. Beautiful, cold, and completely untouchable.

I’d told myself I didn’t need to see her again. Now, standing there, I realized how much I’d lied to myself.

Throughout the bidding, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Every move she made was calculated, confident. She outmaneuvered seasoned investors without breaking a sweat. When she outbid Lester Vale himself, the crowd stirred in disbelief.

I didn’t miss the way Vale’s jaw clenched. Or the flicker of triumph in her eyes when she turned away from him.

So that was it. Him.

The man she’d been trying to forget that night.

The pieces began to fit together, and something sharp twisted in my chest.

When the event ended, I waited near the elevators.

Don’t ask me why. I just… couldn’t walk away.

Minutes later, she appeared, heels clicking against the marble, her red dress cutting through the sea of gray suits like a challenge. The same dress, maybe, or one that looked dangerously close to the one I’d taken off her.

I stepped forward before I could stop myself.

“Small world,” I said, keeping my tone light.

She didn’t even blink. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’ll start,” I murmured, closing the distance between us. “You left without saying goodbye.”

Her lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile it was a warning. “No. You left without saying goodbye.”

That stopped me cold. “What?”

Her gaze was steady, unflinching. “When I woke up, you were gone.”

I exhaled slowly, shaking my head. “I went down to make a call. I wanted to order breakfast. For you.”

For a split second, her eyes softened. Just a fraction. Then the mask slid back into place.

“When I came back,” I continued quietly, “you were gone.”

Her jaw tightened. “You shouldn’t have shown up again.”

I smiled faintly, though there was nothing funny about it. “You say that like I had a choice.”

The elevator behind her dinged open. She stepped inside without another word.

And of course, I followed.

The doors slid shut, sealing us in.

The silence was immediate and heavy. I could feel the tension vibrating in the air between us, could smell the faint trace of her perfume familiar, haunting.

She stood across from me, chin high, pretending I wasn’t there. But I could see her pulse racing at the base of her throat. I remembered what it had felt like to kiss her skin there. The sound she made when she forgot to breathe.

My hands curled into fists at my sides. I wasn’t the kind of man who chased. But for her, my control felt like a thin, fragile thread about to snap.

The elevator hummed softly as it descended. I watched the numbers blink past, then looked back at her.

“So about that night—”

“Don’t.” Her voice was sharp, quiet, but it wavered slightly.

I took a step closer, lowering my voice. “Tell me, Katherine.”

Her head snapped up. Shock flickered across her face.

“Was it revenge that night…” I paused, studying her expression. “Or was it me?”

The air between us went still.

Her eyes met mine, fierce and conflicted. For a moment, I saw the woman from that night, the one who’d been desperate to feel something, anything other than pain. Then she blinked, and she was steel again.

The elevator slowed, lights flickering briefly as it reached the next floor.

She didn’t answer.

The doors slid open, spilling light into the confined space.

Without a word, she stepped out.

And just before the doors closed, she glanced back once just long enough to meet my eyes again. Long enough stirring my wolf.