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He leaned against the door frame, suddenly feeling every one of his thirty-nine years. "I know, Gerri. Thank you for everything you've done. I'll handle it from here."

She nodded, studying his face with those perceptive eyes that seemed to see far more than they should. "She's perfect for you, you know. Give her time to see it too."

Then she was gone, leaving him alone with the weight of impossible expectations and a lion that wanted nothing more than to return to the woman fate had chosen for him.

How the hell is this going to work?

The mate bond pulsed in his chest like a second heartbeat, demanding he return to Amara's side, demanding he claim what was his. But she wasn't ready for that—might never be ready for that—and pushing too hard would only drive her away.

Putting the mate bond on hold.

The idea felt as impossible as asking him to stop breathing. But for her, he would try.

FIVE

AMARA

Amara pressed her fingers against her temples, trying to quell the chaos spinning through her mind. The plush sofa beneath her felt too soft, too luxurious—a stark reminder that she was sitting in the estate of an alien Alpha who apparently considered her his destined bride.

Fated mate.

The term rolled around in her thoughts like a marble in a glass bowl, creating nothing but noise. What did that even mean? Some sort of arranged marriage for political advantage? A breeding contract to secure his bloodline? Her stomach twisted at the possibilities.

She'd spent her entire career reading between the lines, identifying hidden agendas and unspoken motivations. Yet Gerri had played her like a complete amateur, dangling the promise of professional redemption while concealing the real reason she'd been brought here.

How did I not see this coming?

But even as self-recrimination flooded through her, another part of her mind couldn't stop replaying the moment their hands had touched. The electric shock that had raced up her arm, the way her entire nervous system had seemed to recognize him on some primal level she couldn't explain. Her palm still tingled with phantom sensation, and despite every rational thought screaming warnings, she found herself wanting to experience that connection again.

Stop it. You're here to work, not to get swept off your feet by some impossibly attractive alien ruler.

Because Raxen was impossibly attractive. Seven feet of controlled power wrapped in a perfectly tailored suit, with piercing blue eyes that seemed to see straight through her professional facade. When he'd looked at her, she'd felt exposed in a way that still had her feeling uneasy.

You cannot afford to trust another man. Not after Logan.

The memory of her ex-boyfriend's betrayal crashed over her like cold water. Three years of her life wasted on someone who'd been lying to her face while sleeping with her business partner. Three years of believing in a future that had been nothing but elaborate theater.

How could she possibly consider getting involved with anyone again, let alone an Alpha lion shifter who expected her to become his mate based on nothing more than some supernatural concept she didn't understand?

Yet when she'd looked into Raxen's eyes, she hadn't seen deception or manipulation. She'd seen surprise, concern, and something that looked remarkably like genuine regret that she'd been misled. He could have demanded she fulfill whatever this mate thing entailed. Instead, he'd offered her exactly what she'd come here for—the chance to prove herself professionally.

Approaching footsteps drew her attention back to the present. Raxen appeared in the archway, his imposing frame filling the space as he surveyed the room. When his gaze landed on her, that inexplicable pull tugged at her chest again, making her heart race despite her best efforts to remain composed.

"Amara." His deep voice carried the same commanding undertone that had made her pulse skip during their introduction. "Would you like to go over the details of the labor dispute now, or would you prefer to settle into your room first?"

The practical question should have been easy to answer. She was here to work, and the sooner she understood the situation, the better equipped she'd be to help. But the way he was looking at her—with an intensity that suggested he was fighting his own internal battles—made it impossible to think clearly.

I need space. I need time to process this without him standing there looking like every fantasy I never knew I had.

"Could I go to my room and settle in first?" The words came out steadier than she felt. "I just need a moment to process everything."

Understanding flickered across his features, followed by something that might have been relief. "Of course."

He turned toward Vessa, who had been sitting quietly in her chair, observing the interaction with the keen attention of someone trained in diplomacy. "Vessa, would you show Amara to her guest room?"

"Absolutely." Vessa rose with fluid grace, her warm smile putting Amara slightly more at ease. "The maid already brought your suitcase up."

Amara stood from the sofa, smoothing her skirt with hands that trembled slightly. The simple movement drew Raxen's attention, and she caught his jaw tightening as he watched her.