Bonds

-Alex's POV

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The dial tone buzzed in my ear, a mocking little rhythm that mirrored the gnawing anxiety in my gut. I slammed the phone back down on the cradle, the plastic greaning under the impact. My fingers hovered over the screen again, the familiar pattern of her number etched into my memory. Part of me yearned to press call, to hear her voice, any voice, at this point. But the other part, the more cautious part, held me back, yet the nagging feeling remained.

why had she called?

What was she thinking?

A sigh escaped my lips, a plume of frustration in the still air of my office as I dropped the phone on the table.

It vibrated, startling me from my thoughts. My heart leaped-maybe it was her! But the flicker of hope died as quickly as it arose. It was just Christian, his name flashing on the screen in a digital taunt.

With a grimace, I answered the call. "Expecting someone else?" he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement.

"Are you calling me to tell me it's done or calling to just irritate me?" I countered, my voice Hat

"Now, now, Alex," he chuckled, the sound grating on my nerves. "I know you're lonely cooped up in that office all day. Just wanted to be a friend."

I fought back a growl. Christian's idea of friendship was twisted. Sometimes, it intrigued me, most times it just annoyed me but it was what I liked about him. How twisted he was.

"Cut the crap. Christian," I growled, the sound low and menacing.

"Alright, alright," he conceded, feigning surrender. "Since you want to be so serious, the message has been sent. His company will take the first hit tomorrow. Then I'll work on twisting the knife where it hurts the most."

A flicker of satisfaction, primal and unwelcome, coursed through me. Daniel Stone. The name had become a constant thorn in my side, a festering wound that wouldn't heal. His arrogance, his ruthlessness, everything about him made my blood boil. Seeing him crumble, his carefully constructed empire teetering on the brink - it would be a twisted kind of justice.

My wolf rumbled in agreement deep within me, a deep guttural sound that vibrated through my bones. Pushing those primal urges down, I spoke.

"Good. Just keep me updated."

"But of course," He replied, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. "Wouldn't want you to miss any of the fun, would we?"

I was about to retort when he spoke again, his tone shifting abruptly. "I went to see Adrian."

The words hung in the air, heavy and unexpected. Every hair on my body stood on end, a prickling sensation that crawled up my spine. I waited, my breath caught in my throat, expecting him to elaborate. But he remained silent, a smug smile evident in his voice even through the phone.

Frustration bubbled up inside me. "Are you waiting for me to ask what it was about?" I finally managed, my voice taut.

"Just making conversation," he purred, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing. "But hey, no worries. You'll hear about it soon enough."

I gritted my teeth. He'd won this round, planted a feed of doubt and worry that would gnaw at me untill had answers. "Do your damn job, Christian," I growled, the words laced with barely contained fury. "Stop playing games."

With a final, self-satisfied chuckle, he ended the call. I slammed the phone back down, the frustration momentarily eclipsed by a surge of anger. Christian was a necessary evil in this game, a skilled manipulator who could navigate the dark underbelly of the business world with ease. But his constant need to Chapter 21

twist the knife, to play psychological games, was wearing thin Leaning back in my chair, I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to clear the fog of emotions swirling inside me. My mind drifted back to Amaya like it always did. I let out a sigh as a knock on the door startled me from my reverie. "Come in," I called out, my voice gruff.

My meticulously mannered secretary, Ruth, poked her head through the doorway. Her usually composed face was etched with a hint of concern. "Mr. Thome," she began, "I apologize for interrupting, but I wouldn't bother you if it weren't important. There's a walk-in in your office.friedu explaining that you don't typically take-

"Get on with it, Ruth," I interrupted, impatience coloring my tone. The day's events had worn on my nerves, leaving me with a short fuse.

"Yes, sir. The gentleman's name is Ivan McCall," she continued, her voice steady despite my brusqueness. "He was quite insistent on seeing you and wouldn't leave without speaking with you directly."

A frown creased my forehead. What did Ivan want?

"Did he say what he wants?"

"No, sir," Ruth replied, shaking her head slightly. "He was rather tight-lipped. Just kept repeating it was urgent and wouldn't be discussed over the phone."

Intrigue flickered within me, a spark amidst the dull ache of worry.

"Alright," I sighed, pushing myself out of my chair. "Send him in.""

The door creaked open and Ivan stepped into my office. My wolf let out a low growl that rumbled deep in my chest. It wasn't just about Amaya. Even before I found out about Daniel Stone's little marriage proposal scheme, I never liked Ivan. There was something about him, a polished veneer that felt an inch too thick. Like a cheap suit trying to pass for bespoke. Nobody was perfect, that much I knew.

"Well?" Ivan finally spoke, his voice smooth as polished marble.

My gaze flicked up, taking him in. "Well what?" I countered, keeping my tone flat. "Aren't you going to offer me a seat?" he asked, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Considering you barged in uninvited and don't have an appointment," I drawled, "I wouldn't say you exactly qualify as a guest. So offering a seat doesn't seem high on the priority list."

A flicker of something crossed his face, a crack in the smooth facade. It was gone as fast as it appeared, replaced by a practiced smile. "Fair enough," he conceded, taking a seat opposite me without waiting for an invitation. The defiance in his posture was subtle, but I caught it.

"So," I said, leaning back in my chair, "let's get to the point, shall we?"

"I need your help," he blurted out, the urgency in his voice a stark contrast to his earlier composure. There was a tremor in his hands, a telltale sign of nerves.

Interesting.

This was unexpected, to say the least. I raised an eyebrow, watching him. "With what?"

He took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping slightly. "My company. I'm in a bit of a bind, financially speaking. I was hoping you could, perhaps, invest?"Exclusive content from NôvelDrama.Org.

He laughed, a humorless sound that scraped against my ears. "Natural? Maybe. But Stone thinks my om company is rock solid, my pack strong. That's the whole point of his marriage proposition to Amaya. I can't let him know otherwise. Not if I want to keep her around and I really do."

My wolf snarled deep within, a primal reaction to ction to the c casual way he spoke of Amaya, I shoved it down, focusing on the situation at hand. "Still doesn't explain why you're here begging for my help."

"Begging?" A flicker of anger sparked in his eyes, then died down as quickly as it flared. "Let's just say. I thought, given your... engagement to my sister, you might be sympathetic to a fellow businessman in need.”

A slow smile spread across my face. Not a friendly one. "No," I said, the single word heavy with finality.

The air crackled with tension. The carefully constructed mask seemed to falter for a moment, revealing a flicker of desperation in his eyes. "No?" he repeated, his voice tight.

"You heard me clearly, Ivan. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have actual work to do."

He stood up abruptly, his face a mask of strained control. Finally, a crack in the perfect facade. A flicker of something real, something human. "Fine," he spat. "Thank you for your time."

He walked to the door and I called his name. He paused but did he turn to look at me, "One day, the mask will fall and she will see you for who you truly are."

He turned back to me, his eyes hard, "That's where you are wrong, Alex Tam who I say I am. I don't hide it like you. Hide the fact that you are a cold bitter He stormed out, slamming the door behind him with a force that rattled the windows.

There was something off about it all felt Ivan's visit. The desperation in his voice, the veiled threat calculated. But calculated for what?

Was he truly in trouble, or was this some elaborate play orchestrated by Stone?

The silence in the room pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating and I picked up my phone and finally pressed the dial.

She picked up on the first ring but I didn't wait for her to speak, "Amaya, we need to talk."