Chapter 4: The Reunion

Blackwood Tower was exactly what I'd expected, all glass and steel and money, shooting up into the sky like a middle finger to everyone below.

The car had picked me up at 1:45 sharp, just like he'd promised. Black sedan, driver who didn't speak, the whole intimidation package. I'd spent the ride rehearsing what I'd say, how I'd stand my ground, how I wouldn't let some billionaire bully me out of my mother's bakery.

Now, standing in the lobby watching people in thousand-dollar suits rush past, my rehearsed speeches felt thin.

"Miss Hart?" A woman in head-to-toe black appeared at my elbow. "Follow me."

No introduction, no pleasantries. I followed her to a private elevator that required a key card. She pressed 50 without asking which floor I needed.

Of course it was the top floor. Where else would a man like Dante Blackwood keep his office?

My stomach dropped as we shot upward. I focused on breathing, on keeping my hands steady, on not thinking about how high we were going or how much power it took to summon someone to the literal top of your tower.

The hallway was aggressively minimalist, white walls, gray carpet, uncomfortable modern art that probably cost more than my car. She stopped at massive wooden doors that looked like they belonged in a castle.

"Mr. Blackwood is waiting."

Then she was gone, and I was alone, staring at those doors, trying to find the courage I'd had yesterday when I'd texted back *Fine.*

I pushed them open.

The office was obscene, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the entire city, furniture that was probably imported from Italy or wherever rich people got their furniture. And behind the desk, him.

Dark hair. Perfect suit. Strong jaw. And when he looked up—

Silver eyes.

The world tilted sideways.

I knew those eyes. I'd seen them in the dark, felt them on my skin, heard the owner whisper *mate* while I was too drunk to understand.

No. No, it couldn't be—

"Miss Hart." His voice was exactly the same. Deep, commanding, with that edge that had made me forget my own name. "Please, sit."

I sat because my legs had stopped working properly. My wolf was going absolutely insane, recognizing him, wanting him, and I shoved her down hard.

This was the stranger from the club. The man who wanted to demolish my bakery. The same person.

How was that possible? How had I not, the mask. We'd both worn masks. I'd run before dawn. I'd never seen his face clearly.

"Thank you for coming." He leaned back, completely composed, like he hadn't had me naked on a couch three days ago.

Did he know? He had to know. He'd seen my face when my mask fell off. He'd called me *mate*.

"Your assistant said you don't accept refusals." I was impressed my voice worked at all.

"I don't." Something flickered in his expression. Recognition? Amusement? "Let me be direct. I'm acquiring the entire block where your bakery is located. I need you to sell."

"No."

His eyebrow lifted. "I haven't named a price yet."

"Doesn't matter. I'm not selling." My hands were clenched in my lap. "Find another block."

"That block is ideal for my development. The location is—"

"I don't care about your development." The words came out sharper than I'd intended. "That bakery was my mother's. She built it from nothing, worked herself to death running it. It's all I have left of her."

Silence. He studied me with those silver eyes, and I couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"I understand that's difficult." His tone had softened slightly. "But I'm prepared to offer three times market value. You could open another bakery anywhere in the city."

"It wouldn't be the same." I stood, needing distance, needing to move before I did something stupid like cry or throw something. "The answer is no."

He rose too, came around the desk. My wolf perked up immediately, responding to his proximity in ways I absolutely could not afford right now.

"Sit down. We're not finished."

"Yes, we are."

"I always get what I want, Miss Hart." He was close enough now that I could smell him, cedar and something darker, something that made my pulse jump. "Always."

"Not this time."

I turned for the door, and his voice stopped me.

"One week."

I looked back despite myself.

"I'm giving you one week to reconsider." He'd put his hands in his pockets, casual, like he hadn't just threatened my entire life. "After that, I'll pursue other options. Legal options. It'll be easier for both of us if you just take the money."

"I'm not taking your money."

"You don't know what you're refusing." There was something in his voice now, frustration, maybe. Or warning. "I have lawyers who could tie this up for years. Make your life very difficult."

"Then I guess my life's about to get difficult." I opened the door. "I've dealt with worse."

"Have you?"

The question stopped me. The way he said it, like he knew something I didn't. Like this was all a game I didn't understand the rules to yet.

I left without answering.

The assistant was gone. I found the elevator myself, jabbed the button, tried not to run. My hands were shaking, anger, adrenaline, the sheer wrongness of discovering the man I'd slept with was the same man trying to destroy everything I had.

In the elevator, alone, I finally let myself feel it. The shock. The betrayal, somehow, even though he didn't owe me anything. We'd been strangers in masks. That was the deal.

But he'd called me mate. He'd looked at my face like he'd found something he'd been searching for.

And now he was trying to take my bakery.

Outside, the city air hit me like a slap. I walked fast, needing movement, needing to put distance between myself and that tower and those silver eyes.

My phone buzzed. Unknown number.

*You forgot your jacket.*

I stopped walking. Stared at my phone.

I hadn't brought a jacket. Hadn't worn one to the club that night, either. But he'd draped his over me after, when I'd fallen asleep on his couch.

*Keep it,* I texted back. *I don't want anything from you.*

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

*One week, Miss Hart. Think carefully.*

I shoved my phone in my pocket and kept walking.

One week to figure out how to fight a billionaire alpha who knew exactly what I was, who'd had me in his arms, who'd recognized me as his mate.

One week to save my mother's bakery from the one man in the city I couldn't afford to be tied to.

Perfect.