Mated to My Fiancé’s Alpha King Brother

22 Chapter 22

Damien’s POV 1

The past few days had been absolute torture. Every morning, I’d called Lucas before my coffee had finished brewing. Every lunch break,

I’d summoned him to my office with increasingly desperate demands for updates. Every evening, I’d texted him the same question: *Any

news?*

The answer was always the same infuriating response: *Still searching. These things take time.*

Meanwhile, Sera worked at her desk just outside my office, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside me. She’d settled into her

role with impressive efficiency, anticipating my needs before I voiced them, managing my impossible schedule with grace that would

have impressed even Claire. But every time she leaned over to place documents on my desk, every time her vanilla and jasmine scent

wafted toward me, Alex would snarl with barely contained hunger.

*Claim her,* my wolf demanded for the hundredth time that day. *She’s ours. Stop this foolish waiting.*

But I couldn’t. Not until I knew for certain. Not until I had proof that she was the woman who’d haunted my dreams for five years.

Today had been particularly brutal. Sera had worn a fitted black dress that hugged every curve, and when she’d bent to retrieve a

dropped file, the sight of her perfect ass had nearly made me lose all control. I’d spent the afternoon with my hands clenched into fists,

fighting the urge to pull her into my office and finish what we should do.

By five o’clock, I was wound tighter than a spring ready to snap.

voice crackled through the intercom for what had to be the tenth

not looking up from the quarterly reports I’d been staring at without

past hour.

jewelry stores, and a list

whose patience was wearing thin. “For the love of the Moon Goddess, Damien,

the moment I find anything. Asking me

palm against the desk hard enough to make my coffee cup

toward my door through the glass partition. Her emerald

flickering across her features,

instead

alive. Every night, I lay awake imagining what it would mean if

I convinced myself I was

gentleness. *And you’re

morning, reduced my secretary to near tears over a minor scheduling conflict, and growled at the building’s security guard for

717

suit jacket from the back of my chair. “I’m going out, I announced to the empty office, not

me through

making eye contact, afraid that if I looked into those emerald eyes for

spectacularly unprofessional. Like pin her

night, Mr. Nightshadow,” she called softly as I passed, her voice

tighten.

the call button, every instinct

the elevator and let the doors

bar of *Moonlight

drink expensive whiskey and pretend their lives weren’t

all mahogany and brass fixtures, with enough ambient noise to drown

thoughts.