Chapter 4:The Gravity of Him

The heavy oak doors of the study clicked shut behind Elena who was seriously fuming. The room suddenly felt five degrees colder, filled only with the scent of Killian’s lingering rage and the hum of the computer server Faith had just saved.

Faith tried to stand, her legs still trembling. “Thank you for—”

“Don't thank me Faith”, Killian cut her off, his voice sharp as a razor. He didn't look at her; he was staring at the glowing green light on his monitor—the logic gate she had just fixed. “I didn't do it for you. I did it because I don't tolerate trash in my workspace, and I certainly don't tolerate people touching what belongs to me.”

Faith’s jaw tightened. "I’m not a 'what,' Killian. and I'm a human being with blood not a property”.

He finally turned, his grey eyes swirling with an unreadable storm. “In this house, you are a debt-holder. That makes your safety my responsibility, and your time my asset. The fact that you actually understand system architecture is….intriguing, but it doesn't change your status.”

He walked toward his desk,. “Since you’re so eager to be useful, take these files to the archive room in the West Wing. And don't get lost. I don't have time to send a search party for a maid.”

He shoved a heavy leather folder into her arms. His tone was bossy, cold, and dismissive.

Faith took the files, her chest tight with a mix of gratitude and annoyance. “Fine. I’ll be out of your hair.”

She turned and hurried toward the door, her mind spinning. She was halfway across the polished marble threshold when her foot caught on the edge of the heavy Persian rug. With her hands full of files, she couldn't break her fall.

“Ah—!”

Before she could hit the floor, a blur of motion crossed the room.

A pair of strong, iron-clad arms wrapped around her waist, yanking her back against a hard chest. The files were scattered, papers flying around like white birds, but Faith didn't care. She was pressed firmly against Killian.

The contact was electric.

Through the thin fabric of her uniform, she could feel the heat radiating from his body. The “Mate” pull—that strange, magnetic tug in her soul—erupted into a roar. Killian didn't let go. His large hands spanned her waist, his fingers digging slightly into her skin as if he were trying to stabilize himself.

Faith looked up,she gasped. Killian was staring down at her, his face inches from hers. For the first time, the cold Alpha demeanor was gone. His pupils were blown wide, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled her scent—the scent of honey and wild rain that was driving his wolf mad.

He looked at her eyes, then her lips, his throat working as he gulped hard. For a heartbeat, the billionaire Alpha looked completely lost.

“Faith….” he whispered, his voice no longer cold, but rough and strained.

Faith’s heart hammered against her ribs. “I….I thought you said you didn't care about me,” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. “That I was just an asset.”

Killian’s grip tightened for a second before he realized what he was doing. He cleared his throat abruptly, his face flushing a rare shade of red. He let her go so quickly she almost stumbled again.

“I….I meant,” he stuttered, stepping back and smoothing his perfectly straight tie. “I meant that if you break your neck, I have to fill out the insurance paperwork. It’s... It’s a logistical nightmare.”

He wouldn't look at her. He began picking up the scattered papers with jerky movements—completely different from his usual cool self.

“Just…. go, Faith. Before you break something else.”

Faith stood there, her skin still tingling where he had touched her. She saw the way his hands shook slightly as he stacked the files. He wasn't indifferent. Not even close. A small knowing smirk played around her lips as she walked away.