Chapter 23

Darius.

Breaking into the office of a man like Charles Cartwright was the kind of shit that got you killed—or worse. Lucky for me, I wasn’t the type to care about consequences when there were answers to be found. Answers I would trade my life for—few times over.

Not that I would get caught.

The hallway leading to his office was quiet, too quiet. Even the usual hum of voices or the faint sound of footsteps on the marble floor were absent, which suited me just fine. Hunter was keeping tabs on Elise—probably bitching about how he had to be the first one to babysit her—and Jace was off nursing a hangover that would put most men in a grave. That left me with a golden opportunity to do what needed to be done: slip in unnoticed, retrieve what I came for, and leave no trace behind.

The massive double doors to the office loomed ahead, flanked by portraits of dead Cartwrights. They stared down at me like they knew exactly what I was about to do and didn’t like it one damn bit. I didn’t care. My only concern was that no one saw me—not the staff, not Cartwright’s loyal goons, and especially not Elise. I bet she’d chop off a limb or two, only to be able to hand over evidence to daddy dearest to bring me down.

I eased the door open, just wide enough to slip through, and shut it quietly behind me. The office smelled like leather and old books, with a hint of cigars—the kind of place a man like Charles would consider his throne room. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, crammed with volumes that probably hadn’t been cracked open in years. The desk in the center was massive, polished to a shine, and the drawers were locked.

Not that a lock had ever stopped me before.

I crouched beside the desk, pulling a small set of tools from my pocket. The first drawer popped open with a satisfying click, but all it held was a stack of reports that didn’t interest me. Financial bullshit, no doubt. The second drawer was more promising—a couple of files stamped with the Cartwright crest and a name I didn’t recognize. I grabbed them and set them aside, knowing I’d need more time to go through them later.

I worked my way around the office, checking drawers, sifting through piles of papers, and scanning the shelves for anything that might help me piece this puzzle together. The bastard was careful, I’d give him that. Nothing out in the open, nothing obvious. But the thing about men like Charles was that they always had something to hide. And I was going to find it, no matter how deep I had to dig.

The third drawer of the desk caught my eye. It was locked too, but the scratches around the keyhole told me it had been opened recently, probably more than once. This was it. Whatever was in here, it was important.

I was just about to start working on the lock when I heard it—the faintest sound of a door handle turning.

I froze, every muscle in my body going rigid as I scanned the room for a place to hide. My eyes landed on the gap between the bookshelf and the wall, just wide enough for me to slip into. I moved fast and quiet, tucking myself out of sight as the door creaked open.

At first, I thought it was a maid. The soft click of heels on the floor wasn’t loud enough to belong to one of Cartwright’s men, and the faint scent of vanilla and honey floated into the room, too sweet to be anyone dangerous. But when she stepped fully into view, I realized I was wrong.

It wasn’t a maid.

It was Elise.

Her back was to me, her chestnut hair cascading over her shoulders as she moved toward the desk. She was wearing a fitted leather jacket that hugged her curves and tight jeans that left little to the imagination. Her sweet ass was practically mocking me, swaying slightly as she crossed the room.

I swore under my breath, barely audible. What the fuck was she doing here?

She reached the desk, her movements purposeful as she pulled out a key and unlocked the drawer I’d been about to break into. My jaw tightened. So, she had access to the good stuff. Interesting.

Elise didn’t hesitate as she rifled through the drawer, her fingers moving quickly over the documents inside. She wasn’t searching at random—she knew exactly what she was looking for.

I stayed perfectly still, watching her from my hiding spot. My mind raced with possibilities. Was she working for her father? It wouldn’t surprise me. Or, maybe there’s something that I might have missed. But what?

When she pulled out a folder, her hand trembled slightly. She stood there for a moment, staring at it, before flipping it open. I couldn’t see her face, but the tension in her shoulders told me whatever was in that folder wasn’t good news.

I shifted my weight slightly, trying to get a better look, and the floor creaked under my boot.

Elise spun around, her eyes wide and panicked. For a split second, she didn’t see me, but then her gaze zeroed in on the corner where I was hiding.

“Who’s there?” she demanded, her voice sharp.

I stepped out of the shadows, my arms crossed over my chest as I leaned casually against the bookshelf. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to knock, princess?”

Her eyes narrowed, the panic replaced by anger. “What the hell are you doing here, Darius?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “But I think we both know you’re not going to give me a straight answer.”

She clutched the folder to her chest. “This is my father’s office. I have every right to be here.”

“And yet, you look like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.” I pushed off the wall and took a step closer, my eyes locking onto hers. “What’s in the folder, Elise?”

“That’s none of your business,” she snapped, taking a step back.

I smirked, my wolf stirring just beneath the surface. Especially the primal part that wants me to pin her to the floor and—fucking mate bond. I denounced her as my mate. Then why the fuck did my body scream for her each time she was near?

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” I said, my voice a growl. “Because anything that involves your father is my business.”

She glared at me, her jaw tight. “I don’t have time for this.”

She turned to leave, but I was faster, moving to block her path. “Not so fast, princess. You’ve got something I want.”

Her eyes flicked to the folder, and for a moment, I saw hesitation in her gaze. But then she squared her shoulders and met my stare head-on. “You’re going to have to get through me first.”

My smirk widened. If only she knew how much I’d like to go through her. “Don’t tempt me.”

Elise bolted for the door, her movements fast but not fast enough. I’d been waiting for her to pull a stunt like this. As she reached for the handle, I lunged, slamming the door shut with one hand and pinning her to it with the other. The sharp gasp that escaped her lips was music to my ears, though I’d never admit it.

“Not so fast, princess,” I growled, my voice low and dangerous.

“Get off me, Darius!” she snapped, writhing against my grip. But I had her caged in, my arms locking her in place against the solid wood of the door. Her fight was impressive, though—always had been—but it wouldn’t be enough against me. My eyes narrowed onto the file, which I recognized immediately.

“Not until you tell me why the hell you’re sneaking around with my file,” I said, peeling the folder from her grasp. She clawed at it, but I was stronger. One firm tug, and it was mine.