CHAPTER 2

DELIA WHITAKER POV

"Are you going to keep staring like that, or do you have something to say, Whitaker?" Rowan Calloway’s deep voice cuts through the quiet room, sharp enough to snap my jaw shut.

I pull my eyes away from the massive Alpha sitting behind the sprawling oak desk of Calloway Tower. He wears silver-framed glasses today, but there is nothing soft about him. Broad shoulders, a lethal frame, and a dark, suffocating alpha pressure radiate off his skin, making the air in the office bleed heat.

Meredith Sloan, the senior executive assistant, nudges my elbow with a warning glare. "What are you daydreaming about, Delia?"

I snap back to reality, locking my posture straight and pushing my shoulders back. "Alpha Calloway, I’m Delia Whitaker. I’ve served in the administrative sector of Calloway Tower for nearly a year."

My voice does not tremble. It carries pure authority, cutting clean through the lingering tension left by the other two candidates.

Rowan leans back in his leather chair, the silver frames of his glasses catching the morning light. "Delia Whitaker..." He repeats my name under his breath, his eyes narrowing slightly as if tasting the words on his tongue.

He studies my face, taking in the calm, unbothered line of my mouth. A subtle shift ripples through his alpha aura, settling the fierce dominance that had been crushing the room just moments ago.

"She stays," Rowan says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "The rest of you are dismissed."

Meredith nods once, turning toward the exit. "Delia, collect your belongings and transfer your desk into the special assistant's office immediately."

"Understood," I answer, stepping out into the polished hallway.

Moving into the Alpha's inner circle means my pack stipend will double, but it also paints a target on my back. Tamsyn Price catches up to me near the elevators, her breath coming out in a fast exhale before she pulls me into a quick hug.

"Congratulations, Delia!" Tamsyn says, offering a genuine smile. "If anyone earned that chair, it’s you."

"Thanks, Tamsyn," I say, relaxing my guard for a fraction of a second. "I appreciate it."

"Enjoy it while it lasts," Fallon Greer sneers, leaning against the doorframe of the main office with his arms crossed over his chest. "Some females rely on actual administrative metrics, while others just rely on knowing how to catch an Alpha's eye during an inspection."

I turn slowly, my eyes locking onto his with cold precision. "Fallon, are you openly questioning Alpha Calloway's judgment inside his own headquarters?"

Fallon’s smug expression freezes. His skin pales as the weight of my words hits him. Slandering an Alpha's decision inside pack walls is a breach of chain of command, and he knows it.

"Keep your mouth shut next time, Fallon," Tamsyn adds, stepping beside me. "Your jealousy is showing."

I pick up the small storage box containing my files and walk down the private corridor toward the special assistant's suite. Meredith is waiting inside, her arms folded as she watches me set my things down on the glass desk.

"Rowan picked you today, Delia," Meredith says, her voice dropping into a stern tone. "But staying in this seat depends entirely on your competence. Alpha Calloway has zero tolerance for pack members who bring personal motives into his office. Keep your focus on your duty, or you’ll find yourself reassigned to the border patrols."

"I’m here to work, Meredith," I reply evenly, meeting her sharp gaze without flinching. "Nothing else."

Meredith's strict demeanor softens just a fraction. "Good. We have four hours to go over his schedule, his pack dietary mandates, and his security protocols before his afternoon briefing."

We spend the entire morning going through the heavy operational files of the Calloway Corporation and the surrounding pack territories. By the time lunch ends, I have every ledger, meeting outline, and alpha protocol memorized.

At precisely one fifty, I balance a cup of black espresso on a small tray and knock on the heavy double doors of the Alpha's office.

"Enter," his voice rumbles from inside.

I step through, keeping my footsteps silent on the hardwood floor. Rowan is leaning over a series of land-reclamation maps, a pen moving smoothly across the thick paper.

I set the cup down exactly thirty centimeters to his left. "Alpha Calloway, the strategic briefing with Digital Sports Technology begins in ten minutes in Boardroom A."

Rowan doesn't lift his gaze from the maps. His hand reaches out with total accuracy, picking up the cup and taking a slow sip. "Good."

Ten minutes later, I follow Rowan into the boardroom alongside Kellan Rhodes, his head security assistant.

Throughout the three-hour session, Kellan handles the security logs while I hand Rowan each reference file before he even asks for it. Every time his hand moves toward the edge of the table or his eyes shift toward a specific clause on the projection screen, I have the exact document ready at his elbow.

By the time the meeting wraps, Kellan is staring at me in total shock. The level of synchronization between an Alpha and an assistant usually takes years to build, yet I am reading his subtle body language like an open book.

We walk back into his executive suite in silence. Kellan steps up to the desk to present the evening schedule, but before he can open his mouth, the black secure phone on Rowan's desk rings twice.

Rowan answers, pressing the receiver to his ear.

"Rowan!" The sharp, energetic voice of Florence Calloway blasts out of the speaker, loud enough for all of us to hear. "You've been back in Briarford City for twelve hours and you haven't brought your mate home yet! If you leave that poor girl living alone in the lower district for one more night, I’m moving out to the Silverbrook retreat and staying there until my bones rot!"

Rowan adjusts his silver-framed glasses with his thumb, completely unbothered by the dramatic threat. "I already intended to retrieve her after office hours, Grandmother."

The line goes dead silent for a second before Florence's voice spikes with excitement, completely forgetting her weak act. "You are? Good! I'm sending you her precise address right now. Don't send an escort—go pick her up yourself!"

Rowan ends the call and sets the receiver down, resting his elbows on the desk. He looks up at Kellan and then shifts his intense gaze over to me.

"If an Alpha is meeting his formal mate after a year of absence," Rowan starts, his deep voice filling the quiet room, "what is the appropriate protocol to bring?"

Kellan blinks, caught entirely off guard. "Well... that depends on what your mate prefers, Alpha. Is she traditional?"

A faint, dangerous smirk touches Rowan's lips. "She is my legal mate. We signed our pack records at the Briarford Registry Office a year ago, right before I had to deploy to the overseas territory conflicts. We haven't spoken since."

Kellan’s eyes go wide. He clears his throat quickly, trying to come up with a fast answer. "Sir... before you boarded the flight back to the territory, you spent thirty million dollars at the Paris auction for that rare star-diamond choker. Is that not intended for her?"

Rowan gives Kellan a look that clearly asks What else would it be for? before turning his dark, penetrating eyes straight to me.

"You're a female of this pack," Rowan commands, his gravelly tone locking onto my posture. "What does a mate expect when her Alpha finally comes home?"