I worked through the night, completely redesigning the Gala entrance and arrival sequence to accommodate Kane's last-minute security demands. By dawn, my eyes burned from exhaustion, but the revised plans were complete.

A small, defiant part of me took satisfaction in the work's perfection. If Giana had hoped to see me fail under pressure, she would be disappointed.

After a quick shower, I gathered the revised plans and headed directly to Kane's office. Protocol dictated that security changes of this magnitude required his personal approval, and I was determined to get it face-to-face.

When I reached his office, I knocked once sharply and entered without waiting for permission. The words I'd rehearsed died in my throat at the scene before me.

Kane sat behind his desk, but he wasn't alone. A woman perched suggestively on his lap, her arms draped around his neck. Both were laughing intimately, their faces close together.

I recognized her—Lydia Winters, daughter of a neighboring pack's Beta. Beautiful, ambitious, and known for targeting powerful men.

They both looked up at my entrance, the woman's expression shifting from surprise to smug amusement. Kane's face revealed nothing beyond mild curiosity, as if I were merely an unexpected delivery rather than the woman he'd been sleeping with less than a week ago.

Something hot and unfamiliar surged through me, an emotion I hadn't anticipated and wasn't prepared to handle.

"Leave us," I ordered Lydia, my Luna voice cutting through the silence.

Lydia glanced at Kane, clearly reluctant to obey. "We were in the middle of something," she purred, tightening her hold on Kane's neck.

"Now," I said, infusing the word with all the authority my position commanded.

Kane raised an eyebrow but gave Lydia a slight nod. Reluctantly, she slid from his lap, shooting me a resentful glare.

"This was just getting interesting," she murmured to Kane, loud enough for me to hear. "Find me later?"

Kane's noncommittal shrug was apparently enough encouragement for her. She sauntered past me with deliberate provocation, closing the door with unnecessary force.

Alone with Kane, I struggled to reclaim my planned composure. The sight of him with another woman had thrown me off balance in a way I hadn't expected.

"Something you needed, Luna?" Kane asked, his voice carefully neutral as he leaned back in his chair.

I stepped forward, placing the revised plans on his desk with controlled precision. "The complete redesign of the eastern entrance security protocols, as requested."

Kane glanced at the documents without touching them. "You could have sent these with a messenger."

"Security changes of this magnitude require direct oversight," I replied stiffly. "I wouldn't want any miscommunication."

"How conscientious of you," he remarked, his tone impossible to read.

I forced myself to maintain eye contact. "I need your approval by noon to implement the changes."

Kane finally reached for the plans, flipping through them with practiced efficiency. Despite everything, I felt a ridiculous flutter of anticipation as he reviewed my work.

"These look adequate," he said after a moment, setting them aside. "I'll have my team review them and send confirmation."

"Adequate," I repeated, the dismissive assessment landing like a slap. "I redesigned the entire arrival sequence overnight to accommodate your last-minute demands."

A flash of something—guilt, perhaps—crossed his features before his mask of indifference returned. "The pack's security isn't subject to your schedule, Aurora."

The use of my name instead of my title felt strangely intimate after days of formal distance. "Is that what this is about? Security? Or is it about publicly undermining me on Giana's behalf?"

Kane's expression hardened. "I don't take orders from Giana."

"No? Then explain why you suddenly objected to an entrance your own team approved weeks ago." I leaned forward, palms flat on his desk. "You're using our personal conflict to help Giana discredit me."

"Is that what you think of me?" Kane asked, his voice deceptively soft. "That I'd compromise pack security for petty revenge?"

"I don't know what to think anymore," I admitted, hating the vulnerability in my voice. "The Kane I thought I knew wouldn't have ambushed me in that meeting."

"And the Aurora I thought I knew wouldn't have reduced what was between us to a transaction," he countered, rising from his chair to face me across the desk.

After a tense moment, I changed tactics. "I saw Giana questioning you about the Alpha Council. What was that about?"

Surprise flickered across Kane's face before he controlled it. "You were spying on us?"

"I was passing by," I said, the half-truth coming easily. "But her questions seemed oddly specific."

Kane's expression grew thoughtful. "Yes, they did. Almost as if she had prior knowledge of Council politics."

"Exactly," I agreed, momentarily forgetting our standoff in the shared observation. "That level of knowledge is unusual for someone who claims to have lived as a rogue most of her life."

Kane nodded slowly. "I've been wondering the same thing."

For a brief moment, it felt like before—the two of us working together. Then the memory of Lydia on his lap resurfaced, shattering the fragile connection.

"Not that any of this matters," I said, stepping back from his desk. "Your personal life is your business. I just need your signature on these plans."

Kane studied me for a moment. "Are you jealous, Aurora?"

The directness of the question caught me off guard. "Don't be ridiculous."

"It's a simple question," he pressed, coming around the desk to stand before me. "Did seeing Lydia on my lap bother you?"

"Why would it?" I countered, hating the defensiveness in my tone. "Our arrangement is purely physical, remember? I don't care who you entertain in your spare time."

"Liar," Kane said softly, his eyes never leaving mine.

Heat flared in my cheeks. "You have no right—"

"To what? Call out your dishonesty?" He moved closer, his proximity making it difficult to think clearly. "You made your feelings perfectly clear the other night. My mistake was thinking there was something more between us than convenient sex."

The deliberate crudeness of his words felt calculated to wound, and they succeeded. "Is that why Lydia was in your lap? To prove how quickly you can move on?"

A humorless smile crossed his face. "Why not? Romance and pleasure are all that truly matter to me. The rest is just tedious obligation."

My own words from the other night, thrown back at me with precise cruelty. The sting was worse than I'd anticipated, made sharper by the realization that I'd hurt him first.

"Sign the plans," I said, my voice steady despite the tightness in my chest. "I have work to do."

Kane regarded me for a long moment before returning to his desk, scrawling his signature across the documents with deliberate slowness. He held them out, forcing me to approach him again.

"Here you are, Luna. Security concerns addressed, professional obligations fulfilled."

I took the plans, careful not to let our fingers touch. "Thank you."

As I turned to leave, Kane added, "Lydia's looking forward to the Gala. She's quite excited to be my date for the evening."

I nearly stumbled but caught myself, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how deeply his words cut. Without another word, I left his office, closing the door with controlled precision rather than the slam I desperately wanted to execute.

Only when I reached the privacy of my own office did I allow myself to acknowledge the truth I'd been avoiding: I was jealous. Painfully, irrationally jealous at the thought of Kane with another woman. Somewhere along the way, our arrangement had evolved beyond the physical for me—perhaps had never been purely physical at all.

The realization brought no comfort, only a hollow ache and the certainty that I had no one to blame but myself for this new pain. I had pushed Kane away, had wounded him with deliberate cruelty, had refused to acknowledge the connection forming between us until it was too late.

Now he was moving on, just as he'd always done in the past. Just as I should have expected him to do.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself back into Luna mode. The Gala was in two days. There was no time for personal drama or emotional indulgences. I had entrance sequences to redesign, staff to retrain, and a facade of perfect composure to maintain.

For now, I had a role to play—one that required no hint of the weakness I'd just discovered within myself. The weakness of caring for a man who had made it abundantly clear he had already moved on.