Chapter 5
Elsa
At three o'clock, I knocked on Drake's office door. This was my first time needing to do so—once, I could walk right in, being his senior assistant, his right hand. But now I waited like any other employee.
What a fucking joke. I've seen every inch of this man's body, shared his bed for years, and now I have to knock?
"Come in," his voice cold and distant.
I pushed open the door to find Drake sitting behind his desk, reviewing documents. He didn't even look up.
Look at me, you coward. Look at what you're throwing away.
"Sir, I wanted to remind you about your 3:30 quarterly meeting with the executive team," I maintained a professional tone, though my wolf whimpered inside, craving attention, desperate for even the smallest acknowledgment.
"Mm." Still not looking up. "Files ready?"
"All here." I placed the prepared folder on his desk. "I've included the updated quarterly projections and the new marketing strategy. Finance and Operations will need your approval on the revised budget—"
"Fine. I'll be there," he said curtly, finally glancing up.
The office door suddenly opened as Vera walked in carrying two coffees. She faltered slightly upon seeing me, then flashed that fake smile.
Didn't even knock. Of course not. She already has privileges I earned over years.
"Drake, I got your favorite—double espresso, with just a hint of vanilla," she placed the cup in front of him, completely ignoring what I was saying.
To my surprise, Drake looked up, smiling at her—the first genuine expression I'd seen from him today. "Thanks, I needed that."
He's smiling at her. That rare smile I worked so hard to earn. Given away so easily now.
As Vera reached across the desk to hand him the coffee, she suddenly gasped and jerked her hand back. "Ouch!" she cried out dramatically, dropping the cup and spilling coffee across Drake's desk and the quarterly reports I'd spent hours preparing.
"What happened?" Drake was immediately on his feet, rushing around the desk to her side.
Vera held up her finger, a tiny paper cut visible on her index finger. A single drop of blood beaded at the surface. "I cut myself on the folder edge," she whimpered, looking up at Drake with wide, helpless eyes. "It really hurts."
Are you kidding me? A paper cut?
Drake's entire demeanor changed as he examined her finger like it was a life-threatening injury. "This could get infected. We should have it looked at."
I couldn't help the disbelieving scoff that escaped me. Both of them turned to look at me.
"Something funny, Elsa?" Drake's voice had that dangerous edge.
"No, sir. I'll just get towels for the spill and reprint these documents for the meeting," I said, fighting to keep my voice neutral.
Drake looked at his watch, then back at Vera who was now leaning against him dramatically. "I'm taking Vera to the medical center. You'll have to handle the quarterly meeting."
"But—" I started to protest. The quarterly meeting was crucial, with major strategy decisions to be made. As his assistant, I could take notes, but I couldn't make executive decisions.
"That's an order, not a request," Drake said firmly. "I trust you can manage it."
Trust? Is that what you call throwing me to the wolves?
"Yes, sir," I answered softly, my throat tight.
He grabbed his jacket with one hand while supporting Vera with the other. As they walked past me, Vera shot me a triumphant look over her shoulder, barely hiding her smirk.
That manipulative little—
"Elsa," Drake paused at the door. "Don't disappoint me. Your position isn't secure anymore."
The words stabbed my heart. All my loyalty, all my devotion, so easily dismissed.
"Yes, sir," I replied, watching them leave.
The company meeting was a disaster. I had to face a room full of executives and explain that Drake had taken Vera to the medical center for a paper cut. A fucking paper cut. When I called for guidance on a critical decision point, she'd answered his phone, whimpering about needing stitches.
Paper cut, my ass. Probably bent over his desk while he "comforted" her.
"The company won't keep useless deadweight," Drake had warned when he called back, ordering me to handle James Smith instead. Apparently, a new client meeting had come up, and he was still at the clinic with Vera.
I saw my chance—both to prove my worth and earn the bonus I desperately needed for my mother's treatments. "If I close this deal alone, I want double commission," I'd demanded.
Drake had agreed, with a mocking tone that said he expected me to fail.
I'll show you, you arrogant prick. I'll close this deal and shove it down your throat.
Now, sitting in James's car, I realized too late what a terrible mistake I'd made. The contract was signed—I'd cleverly helped him select a platinum necklace for his mate's anniversary—but he clearly expected payment of a different kind.
"Let go of me," I struggled, trying to push him away as he pinned me to the backseat. "This is assault."
James laughed. "An Omega? Who will you tell?" He grabbed my wrists hard enough to bruise. "Be good, and maybe I'll increase my order."
Oh god. This is really happening. No one will help me. No one will believe me.
"I'm not a prostitute," I hissed, maintaining dignity despite my fear. "I'm Stone Industries' senior assistant. Drake Stone will—"
"Will what?" he mocked. "Protect his old toy? Please. The whole Black Obsidian pack knows he's found a new girl. You're discarded goods, sweetheart."
Those words stung because they touched my deepest fears. Had Drake really abandoned me? Were all our feelings over just like that?
Is that all I was? A convenient fuck until something better came along?
While I was distracted, James pushed me down onto the seat, his weight crushing me as his hands began tearing at my blouse.
"No!" I shouted, trying to push him away, but his strength far exceeded mine.
His fingers ripped my silk blouse open with a savage motion, buttons flying everywhere. Cold air hit my exposed skin as my black lace bra was revealed. James's eyes instantly changed, the businesslike demeanor completely gone, replaced with raw, animal hunger.
"Look at you," he growled, his gaze devouring me, lingering on my breasts, my stomach, my throat. "No wonder Stone kept you around so long."
I tried to cover myself with my arms, but he pinned my wrists above my head with one large hand. I felt utterly exposed, vulnerable in the most primal way.
I hate this fucking body. I hate being weak. I hate being prey.
"You bitch," he chuckled, his breath hot on my face, reeking of alcohol and cigars, "acting noble, but don't you all just want to be taken by us?"
His free hand traced a slow, possessive path down my neck to my collarbone, then lower to the curve of my breast. I felt sick, trapped, my body paralyzed between fight and flight, neither option available. I couldn't even turn my head away from his hungry stare.
One hand covered my mouth while the other roughly pushed under my skirt. I struggled desperately, tears streaming down my face. I tried to knee him, but his body had me completely immobilized.
Please, no. Not like this. Not like this.
"The more you fight, the more excited I get," he licked his lips. "Drake has good taste. You're delicious."
Just as his hand was about to touch my most intimate area, the car window was suddenly struck with such force that the glass cracked.
James froze, and we both turned to see Drake standing there, his eyes completely transformed into golden wolf irises, his expression contorted into a fury I'd never seen before.
"Get. Off. Her." Drake's voice was low and dangerous, carrying all the authority of an Alpha. It wasn't a request but a death threat.
James's face went pale as he quickly moved away from me.
"Mr. Stone, I didn't think—" James stammered, but Drake had already wrenched open the car door, his scent filled with murderous intent.