Her Phone Rings

POV: Chloe

The polished mahogany door of Tristan's office felt cold beneath my trembling fingers as I pushed it open. Seven years had passed since I'd last stood in this room, yet the thick scent of his cologne—sandalwood mixed with that wild, intoxicating musk of his wolf—still sent heat rushing straight to my core, dragging up filthy memories I'd tried desperately to bury.

"Right on time," Tristan's voice washed over me, deep and commanding. He stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his tailored suit stretching across the broad shoulders that used to be my favorite pillow.

"You said you needed my measurements for the launch ceremony formalwear?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

A slow, lethal smirk spread across his lips—the exact kind that always made my knees weak.

"Indeed. Though I could pull them from memory." His glowing gaze swept down my body, lingering hungrily on the swell of my breasts beneath my silk blouse. "Some things are impossible to forget," he rasped dreamily.

Heat flooded my cheeks. The professional excuse was flimsy at best, but I couldn't refuse without raising questions. Not when I needed this job to prove to Ethan—and myself—that I could work alongside Tristan without things getting messy.

"Stand here." Tristan positioned me in the center of the room. His large hands brushed my waist to adjust my stance, and the contact sent a raw electric shock straight to my clit.

"Arms out," he ordered.

I complied, trying to stare at the wall behind him rather than the burning intensity in his amber eyes. His wolf was right at the surface today. I could feel it in the heavy pressure crackling in the air. Tristan stepped behind me, his radiating body heat seeping right through my thin blouse.

"Let's start with the bust."

His knuckles grazed the underside of my breasts as he wrapped the tape measure around my chest. I bit back a moan as my nipples instantly pebbled hard. He let out a throaty groan, the kind that screamed, You have no fucking idea how long I’ve dreamt of doing this.

"Arms up," he murmured.

I lifted them, my silk blouse rustling. His hands clamped down on my waist, his long fingers spreading wide, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh right above my hipbones.

"Breathe normally," he commanded.

As if he didn't know that breathing was totally impossible when his thumb was slowly tracing hot circles against the fabric.

“You’re tense.” His thumb slid down to stroke the small of my back. “That will affect the numbers.”

“I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

“Tristan!”

“Standard procedure.” He looked down at me, those silver-grey eyes holding a dark challenge. “You wouldn’t want me to do a sloppy job, would you?”

He was acting professional, but his touch was pure possession. I twisted out of his grip.

"Tristan."

"Shh. I'm concentrating."

I hated that I could smell his arousal. That my body remembered exactly what that scent meant. I hated that my core throbbed the second he stepped behind me, that my thighs practically clamped together, and that my inner wolf was whining, desperate to be mounted.

His hands dropped back to my waist. "Waist measurement."

The tape circled me. His arms wrapped around me to pass it from one hand to the other, and for one agonizing second, I was caged against his massive chest, surrounded by heat, hard muscle, and the steady thump of his heart against my spine.

"You're tense, peaches. Should I..." he murmured against my ear.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

I wrenched myself out of his arms. "Don't pretend this is about a suit fitting."

Tristan's eyes snapped to mine. Pale silver. The alpha was fully awake.

"Then what is it about, Chloe? Enlighten me."

"You know what."

“I do.” He stepped closer, each movement deliberate.

“I know you left me seven years ago without a single word. I know you vanished so completely my pack couldn’t track you.”

He caught my left hand, turning it slightly so the diamond ring Ethan had forced onto me last night caught the light.

“And I also know,” his voice dropped lower, “that your body never learned to lie to me.”

A pause—calculated, suffocating.

“Your pulse is racing. Your pupils are dilated.” His grip tightened just enough to remind me he wasn’t guessing. “Shall I keep going?”

I yanked my hand back and lifted it, showing him the dazzling diamond ring.“I’m with Ethan.”

"That's not the same thing."

"He loves me."

"And I didn't?" The words whipped out, sharp and bleeding with an agony that made me flinch. "I hunted for you, Chloe. Seven fucking years. Do you have any idea what that did to me? To my wolf? And then you show up at my dining table, holding my brother's hand, looking at him the exact way you used to look at me..."

"Tris, stop."

"No." He grabbed my chin, forcing my face up. "Not until you tell me why. Not until you tell me what the fuck I did to make you run."

My eyes stung, but I refused to cry. "It wasn't about you."

"Bullshit."

"It's not..."

"It is." His grip softened, but his thumb stroked my jaw possessively. "I can hear your heart pounding, Chloe. I can smell your lies. You're lying to yourself, and you've been doing it for seven years."

My lower lip trembled. I bit down on it hard enough to taste copper.

Tristan watched me fight myself, and something in his face just broke. The warmth vanished. His expression slammed shut like a steel vault, and he dropped his hand.

"Fine," he muttered, stepping back. "Let me ask you something else." His tone turned mocking, like this was just a game he was bored of playing. "How long do you plan to string two brothers along? Because I can feel what you feel. I know you crave my cock..."

"Stop it, Tris!" My voice cracked. "Think of Ethan. Think of your own brother. He adores you. It would destroy him if we..."

Tristan let out an ugly, bitter laugh. "Ethan? Was Ethan thinking of my feelings when he knotted my mate?"

"He didn't know..."

"He knows you're mine. Every alpha in this city knows you're mine. He just conveniently chose not to ask the questions because he didn't want the answers. I never rejected you! My scent has lingered on you for seven fucking years!"

I shook my head frantically. "It wasn't like that. I didn't tell him. He has no idea about us."

"Convenient."

"It's not... I was trying to protect him!"

"Protect him." Tristan's eyes blazed a lethal silver. "You're protecting the wrong brother, Chloe. You've been protecting the wrong brother since the day you ran."

I opened my mouth to scream back, but the office door suddenly clicked open.

Ethan’s scent hit us before he even stepped inside. I caught a split-second glimpse of him holding a takeout bag from the bistro downstairs, a massive grin on his face.

"Chloe?" he called out. "Thought I'd find you here. I brought lunch."

Tristan didn't flinch. His expression didn't even twitch.

"She's not here," he stated smoothly. The lie fell from his lips so perfectly I almost believed it myself.

Because I wasn't standing there anymore.

The instant the door had opened, as his scent hit us, Tristan guided me down. Not roughly, but with a swift, controlled motion—precise, instinctive. Now, I was crouched beneath his massive oak desk, completely hidden. My knees pressed into the carpet, and my heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

"Not here?" Ethan sounded confused. "I could have sworn I smelled her."

"She left. Ten minutes ago." Tristan calmly rolled his leather chair forward, sliding his thick thighs right under the desk, caging me between his legs. "Sample fittings for the launch. She went to the designer."

The heavy desk blocked my view, but I could hear Ethan's heavy boots stepping deeper into the office. His inner wolf was hunting. I felt the heavy pressure of his aura pressing against the room, searching for me.

"Her scent is all over this office," Ethan argued.

"She was just here, like I said," Tristan replied coolly.

Under the desk, Tristan's large hand dropped to my shoulder. His thumb slowly stroked the curve of my neck, light as a feather.

I froze stiff.

"Then why are you lying?" Ethan demanded.

"I'm not."

"Your heartbeat just spiked."

"That happens when my brother accuses me of lying," Tristan purred, totally unbothered. "Lunch is getting cold, Ethan. Leave it on the desk. I'll make sure she gets it later."

Underneath the desk, Tristan's hand slid down my collarbone, his long fingers slipping right beneath the silk edge of my blouse. I clamped my lips shut so hard they ached.

I was staring right at his crotch. The heavy, thick strain in his trousers. The massive shape of him, rock-hard behind the zipper. My mouth instantly went dry. My wolf whined, begging to taste him.

Tristan caught me staring. A wicked, filthy smirk touched his lips, and he subtly adjusted his hips, pressing his hard bulge right toward my face.

A silent invitation.

Without unzipping, his large hand grabbed mine and forced my palm flat against his massive erection. He was burning hot through the expensive wool. His glowing eyes stared down at me, saying everything he couldn't speak aloud: See how hard you make me. See how much I want to wreck you.

I snatched my hand back, glaring up at him, furious. His smirk only widened.

Then, he lifted one foot, still clad in a polished leather shoe. Without a word, he pressed the tip of it lightly against the front of my blouse, tracing the heavy swell of my breast through the fabric.

My breath hitched.

Tristan watched my face as he teased me, his movements agonizingly slow. The ball of his foot rubbed slow, wet circles over my nipple through the thin silk. I wanted to punch him. I wanted to spread my legs and beg.

I just stayed frozen, panting quietly while the predator above me casually discussed quarterly projections with his brother.

Stop, I mouthed desperately.

He didn't stop. My body was totally betraying me. My nipple was painfully hard, aching for his mouth. A sound bubbled up in my throat—a soft, wet whimper I couldn't swallow in time.

It slipped out. Muffled, but audible.

Tristan's foot froze. He hadn’t expected that.

Above the desk, Ethan stopped mid-sentence. "Did you hear something?"

"No."

"I thought I heard..." Ethan went quiet. "You know what? I'm going to call her. Right now. I want to hear her voice."

Tristan's hand snatched toward the desk phone to distract him, but he was a second too late.

Beneath the desk, the phone in my skirt pocket lit up. The obnoxious pop ringtone Ethan had set himself blared through the dead silence like a fucking air horn.