CHAPTER SIX: MEETING AT CHAVRON

CHAPTER SIX

***BORIN'S POV***

I let out a breathy sighs as I enter my bedroom. The room is quiet and cold. Just how I like it. I must've left the air conditioning switched on before leaving for my office a few rooms away.

I decided to work from home today. Emily and I, spending Hours reviewing costs, liabilities and expenses.

I sigh as I plop down on my bed, spreading my arms and legs as wide as they can go.

Finally.

It's been a long day and I'd like to have some alone time but that's impossible because Chatteris thought it would be fun to chat about business over dinner.

I pinch the skin between my brows and force myself to sit up on the bed. As much as I don't appreciate my evenings being interrupted, I can make an exception for Chatteris.

I have to.

My phone pings with a message. I reach for my phone in my pocket and bring it dangerously close to my face.

It's a message from Emily.

"8pm. Chavron suites."

A smirk creeps up my lips.

Smart.

I knew entrusting Emily with the tasking of scouting a good restaurant wouldn't be a problem.

Miss Chatteris had requested we find a suitable restaurant, away from pack elders and their watchful eyes.

A one-on-one.

And what better place to have dinner and discuss business than a famous human celebrity restaurant?

It's perfect for press too.

I cock my head to the side as I stare at the message again.

Asides from the fact that Emily has once again proven her faith in my negotiation tactics, she's just fucking smart.

Thinking steps ahead like her boss of course.

I stand to my feet and glance up at the clock before moving to the bathroom to freshen up.

I have less than an hour.

******

I arrive at Chavron restaurant in record time. I glance at my watch to see I have twenty minutes to spare. I quickly park my car at VIP spot number 39, I look at the card I was ushered a while earlier to ensure I've got the numbers right.

It's still a damn thirty nine.

I say a quick prayer to the Moon Goddess for the smooth movement of this meeting. I can be quite superstitious and the number thirty nine gives me the ick.

The scent of Matèes wine fills my nostrils as I enter the room.

Good.

I'd made sure to specially order that wine for Miss Chatteris as well as making sure to book us a reservation for the entire restaurant.

It cost quite a lot but I know it'll be worth it.

I wonder how Chatteris would react to the knowledge, the woman always so unpredictable.

A tall dark skinned human walks up to me. "Good evening, you must be....Mr. Holloway." He says looking into my eyes.

Perhaps he doesn't recognise me, most humans do—as the CEO of CRESTS TRANSPORT.

I plaster the most genuine smile I can muster as I fight the urge to release my aura and force him to yield.

He smells like tacos and cheese. I didn't know they served that here. I wonder if Chatteris would like that.

Does she eat human food?

I swallow and suck in my teeth as I realise I didn't ask about her meal preferences.

An oversight.

Emily would have my head if she discovered I'd failed to ask.

"Right this way." The dark skinned man says before ushering me to a seat close to a window. The windows reveal a beautiful silhouette of the city. Lights from various buildings lighting the whole place.

It's beautiful.

"Thank you..." I say, my eyes instinctively finding the tag on the chest area of his shirt. "....Eric."

He looks almost surprised at how I could possibly know his name before following my line of sight to his name tag.

"What would you like to have, sir?" Eric asks, shifting on his weight.

Is he nervous?

I sniff quickly to ensure my aura is still in place not wanting to cause any discomfort.

Humans have always been so fragile and as much as I pity them, it annoys me.

"I'll wait for my partner." I say, glancing at the watch on my left hand, my peripheral vision noting Eric nod as he turns on his heels to leave.

It's eight on the dot.

So much for—

Her scent fill my nostrils before I can finish my line of thought.

Ozone and lavender.

My head snaps towards her direction and I swallow as I take the sight of her in. It's no doubt that she's a stunning woman. Her silver hair—wrapped in a bun —a smooth contrast to the olive green blazer with white pants she has on.

Classy.

My mind shifts to my outfit for a brief second. Nothing flashy, just a black tux as always.

"Miss Chatteris." I say wanting to break the awkward silence as she walks over to sit on the chair opposite me. I flash her a smile and extend my hand for a handshake.

"Mr. Holloway." She says, mirroring my actions.

"You're on time. How was the drive here?" I say when she settles. A little small talk won't hurt. If we are to become partners, we might as well have some level of familiarity.

"Mostly peaceful." She says reaching for something in her bag. I almost let out a deep laugh when I realise she's brought out a sanitizer.

Chatteris never ceases to amaze me.

She opens the bottle cap and pours some over her hands. She reaches for some wipes next and cleans the wooden table surface nexts. I turn my head to look at the many lights through the window.

As much as I'd naturally feel offended, I surprisingly don't take it personal.

Instead, I reach for my black notepad in my breast plate and scribble down a few words.

Mei Chatteris

• Sanitizes public tables.

• Doesn't trust shared spaces.

• Carries wipes in her handbag.

• Doesn't care if people are offended.

My gaze lingers at the words for a while before returning my gaze to her, my face, straight. She looks at me with irritation and slight curiosity.

Her scent is everywhere.

I ignore her gaze and press on the bell beside me to get the attention of any waiter.

She looks around taking in the place and her brows crease like she's realised we're the only ones here.

"Where's everyone?" She asks, her nostrils flaring as she pushes her weight off the chair. She's trying to get a whiff of my scent. I'm sure she knows she's won't though. I'm a Veil, masking is what I do best.

"I guess nobody wanted to eat out today." I say with an evident smirk on my lips, sarcasm laced in my tone.

She rolls her eyes before leaning into her seat.

Eric comes out almost immediately. He walks up to us with a menu in his hand.

"Welcome to Chavron, what would you like to order?" He blurts in a rather robotic manner and I can tell he's been working here for a while.

"What would you like to have?" I ask Chatteris gesturing for Eric to give her the menu.

She stares at it for a while, before speaking. "I'll have some brown rice and...chicken."

She reeks of indecision, and I swallow as it really dawns on me that she might not be into human food.

Fuck.

"I'll have the same." I say quickly, my skin prickles with guilt.

"And desert?" Eric asks again, noting down our previous order.

"Chocolate cake." She blurts before I can think of any thing most werewolves like.

Oh.

"I'll have the same."

Eric leaves and I notice her bite her lower lip for a brief second.

Is she bored? Or nervous?

I don't think it's either but I don't linger too much on it.

"You must've heard about the attack on one of my hubs at Moss by now." She says when Eric disappears into a corner of the room.

"I need your alliance." She continues when I say nothing. " you need my investments. We should both cut the chase, we're at a dead end and need each other."

She's going right for the kill.

Fascinating.

"That being said, I'll state my terms and you'll state yours." She says again, her nose crinkling slightly.

I nod in agreement as she brings out her phone and begins to read out said terms.

Oh.

Was expecting a hard copy, but ok.

She clears her throat as she begins.

"If we are to sign into this contracted marriage, I want full autonomy over my business, easy access to your transport channels, and strong werewolves stationed at my company at Moss." She pauses, her sharp eyes locking onto mine over the top of her screen. "I also want absolute management over the development project of the borderlands just outside Vos."

​

I lean back into my seat and let out a soft, dry chuckle.

​

She’s asking for a kingdom on a silver platter. Control means everything to her, but if I give it to her without a fight, she’ll know it’s a setup.

​

"You have an exquisite sense of ambition, Miss Chatteris," I say, tapping my fingers rhythmically on the wooden table.

"But let’s be realistic. Full autonomy over your business? Granted. I have no desire to manage human tech grids. But unrestricted access to Crests Transport channels?"

I lean forward, letting my smile fade. "Absolutely not."

​

Her nostrils flare, her posture instantly turning defensive.

"My supply chain requires it, Mr. Holloway. If I’m tying my empire to yours, I cannot have my shipments bottlenecked by your pack’s bureaucracy."

​

"And I cannot have my highly classified trade routes exposed to human scrutiny because your logistics team doesn't know how to handle werewolf territory," I counter smoothly, watching a flash of irritation cross her face.

"We compromise. You get priority access to our secondary commercial lines, but any use of our deep-territory routes requires my personal sign-off. Twenty-four hours in advance."

​

She bites her lower lip, calculating the loss of leverage.

"Twelve hours," she pushes back, her voice tight. "And my team gets direct data encryption on those lines."

​

"Eighteen hours. And my security team handles the encryption keys," I reply, holding her gaze.

​

She glares at me for a long beat before giving a single, sharp nod. "Fine. Eighteen hours."

​

"Now, let's talk about the borderlands," I continue, shifting my weight. "You want the development project? The elders will never allow a lone wolf—let alone one who operates heavily in the human world—to dictate territory borders. If I hand that to you entirely, my board will revolt before the wedding invitations are even printed."

​

"Then manage your board," she snaps, leaning in. "The attack on Hub Three proves the Iron Claws are testing my perimeters. If I don't control the borderlands, I can't build the defensive grid needed to protect my infrastructure. If your elders have a problem with that, tell them to fund the defense themselves."

​

I mask the surge of pure approval rushing through my chest. God, she is remarkable when she's backed into a corner. She doesn't whimper; she sharpens her claws.

​

"I will split the jurisdiction with you," I offer, tilting my head. "You handle the infrastructure and tech deployment. Shadowcrest retains the physical territorial rights and guard placement. We review the arrangement in six months."

​

She stares at me, her eyes narrowing as she weighs the terms. She knows she's giving up total control, but she's smart enough to recognize a solid tactical compromise when she sees one.

​

"Six months," she repeats, her tone clipped. "But I select the guard commanders stationed at my sectors."

​

"Deal."

​She relaxes an inch into her seat, clearly believing she has managed to successfully navigate the minefield of my corporate terms.

She clears her throat again, scrolling down her phone. "Just putting that out there, this is a contracted marriage. We won't share a bed or necessarily have any intimate relations. Thus, no questions will be asked about either of our personal lives and relationships."

​

What about our fated mates?

I purse my lips in an attempt to refrain from asking the question. Now's not the time to bring that up, especially since I know how sensitive she is to it.

​

"A reasonable clause," I say softly, reaching for my note again to scribble down some observations.

​

She doesn't speak, watching my pen move with a mixture of irritation and slight relief.

She thinks the hard part is over.

She thinks she has balanced the scales.

​"One last thing," I say, putting my note back where it came from.

​

"What?" she says, glaring at me, her guard dropping just a fraction.

​I push my weight off my seat and lean slightly over the table, closing the distance between us.

I can't help the predatory smirk that creeps up my lips as I drop the real anchor.

​

"You will live with me."

​

The words land heavily between us. Her cheeks instantly turn red as she stiffens, her breath hitching. I lean back into my seat, watching the shock and embarrassment roll off her in thick waves.

​

For the first time this evening, Chatteris looks genuinely speechless.

I watch her carefully.

There it is.

The first crack in her composure.

But before I can enjoy it....