Chasing his Human Mate

BILLIE’S POV

Evan looked at me and smiled slightly. I met his eyes without flinching. I was determined to stay perfectly composed in front of him.

“Thank you, Ms. Jones,” he said smoothly. “It’s a pleasure to be here.”

The board members rose one by one to greet him with the respect men like Evan Collins naturally commanded. Hands were shaken, names exchanged, and polite introductions filled the room.

I stayed seated long enough to steady myself, then stood and gathered the documents in front of me. Business. That was all this was.

Ethan stepped forward with an easy smile. “Mr. Collins, welcome to Winston Watch Company. I’m Ethan Winston, the CEO of this company.”

Evan accepted his handshake. “I know who you are, Mr. Winston. You’ve built something impressive here.”

Ethan let out a short laugh. “That means a lot coming from you.”

“I don't flatter people,” Evan replied, holding his gaze. “It’s simply the truth.”

I watched them carefully. Evan had always known how to make people feel important without giving away too much of himself. It was part of what made him dangerous. He could walk into any room, say very little, and still make it feel as though the conversation belonged to him.

“Please, have a seat,” Ethan said, gesturing toward the chair across from mine.

Of course that was where Evan chose to sit.

I lowered myself back into my chair and arranged my notes in front of me, though I no longer needed them. I had memorized every number, projection, and discussion point before leaving home this morning. What I had not prepared for was Evan Collins showing up in person.

As I stared down at the folders, a sudden, suffocating weight pressed down on my chest. For six long years, I really believed I was healed. I built a new life after he left, convincing myself that the old memories and the tears I used to cry in my quiet apartment belonged to a girl who no longer existed.

But seeing him sitting directly across from me ruined that belief in one second.

The walls I spent years building around my heart completely fell apart. Looking at his sharp jaw and familiar dark eyes dragged the old pain right back to the surface. It was not a dull ache. It was the exact, blinding pain of the night he threw me away, making it feel like no time had passed at all.

The strange feeling of our broken bond burned in my veins again, reminding me exactly how it felt to be treated like I wasn't good enough just because I was human. The rejection felt bitter in my throat. I wanted to hate him, but the deep wound in my chest proved he could still hurt me. I was trapped with the man who broke my heart, and my body felt like he was cutting me all over again.

I tightened my jaw and pressed my fingers flat against the cool wood table. I would not let myself shake. I was a professional, and I would do my job perfectly, even if I was breaking down inside.

Ethan cleared his throat. “Thank you, everyone, for making time on short notice. As you all know, Collins Group has expressed serious interest in investing in Winston Watch Company. This meeting is to discuss the proposal, our expansion plans, and how both parties may move forward if the terms are agreeable.”

A few board members nodded. One opened a folder while another reached for a pen.

Across from me, Evan sat with one hand resting on the arm of his chair, his posture relaxed, his expression unreadable.

Only I knew how dangerous he could be when he looked this calm. The tailored lines of his charcoal suit could not hide the predatory breadth of his shoulders. His scent, cedarwood, rain, and that faint, terrifying trace of pure Alpha authority, drifted across the table, wrapping around me like a ghost.

Concentrate, I ordered myself. You are the head designer. You belong in this room. He is just a client.

Ethan glanced at me. “I’d like Ms. Jones to begin with the design division overview and the international rollout strategy. She’s the head designer behind our upcoming collection and one of the reasons Winston is where it is today.”

Several heads turned toward me, and I gave a composed nod. “Thank you, Mr. Winston.”

I stood and moved toward the screen, remote in hand. The first slide of Winston’s newest collection appeared behind me, sleek and polished. Numbers and strategy were easier to face than memory.

“As Winston Watch Company prepares for international expansion, our priority remains the same,” I began. “We are not interested in sacrificing quality for visibility. The market we are targeting values heritage, exclusivity, and design integrity. That is where Winston has the strongest advantage.”

The room settled quickly.

I moved through the slides with measured confidence, discussing projected markets, campaign timelines, supply chain capacity, and the design philosophy behind the new collection. I explained the materials we had sourced, the production timeline, and the pricing structure for the first European launch.

But as I transitioned to the slide detailing our luxury materials, Evan shifted his weight. His dark eyes locked onto me, tracking the movement of my lips, the posture of my shoulders, and the way I held the presentation remote.

A sudden wave of intense heat flared across my skin. It was an old instinct, a residual echo of a mate bond that should not exist anymore.

My mind screamed at me that he could smell my fear, that he could hear the frantic rhythm of my human pulse. A terrifying urge spiked within me to drop my gaze, to submit to his overwhelming presence just to make the suffocating pressure stop. My throat went entirely dry.

For a fraction of a second, the next word in my sentence vanished from my mind.

The silence stretched for a terrifying beat. To the human board members, it likely looked like a dramatic pause for emphasis. To Evan, I knew it was a visible tremor in my armor.

I forced my chin up, meeting his lethal gaze directly. I swallowed the lump of panic in my throat and let the cold, hard logic of my work anchor me. I am wolfless, I reminded myself bitterly. I am nothing to his kingdom. But in this boardroom, these designs are mine.

"We have secured exclusive contracts with regional suppliers," I continued, my voice steady, smooth, and entirely devoid of the war raging in my chest. "Ensuring that our production scaling remains flawless."

Questions came as soon as I finished the first half of the presentation.

One of Evan’s associates, a silver-haired man seated to his right, adjusted his glasses. “Ms. Jones, if Winston enters the European market within the first quarter, how confident are you that production can keep pace with demand without delays?”

“Very confident,” I replied. “We’ve already prepared a phased release strategy to avoid oversaturation. The first launch will be limited, which supports exclusivity and production control. If demand exceeds projections, we have the flexibility to expand manufacturing in stages without compromising quality.”

The man nodded, and another question followed about the advertising budget. Then one about vendor agreements. Then profit margins in the first year of expansion.

I answered each one carefully, keeping my tone professional and precise. The more the discussion progressed, the more the room shifted in our favor.

By the time the questions slowed, even the more skeptical board members looked reassured.

Ethan leaned back in his seat, pride clear in his expression. “As you can see, Winston is prepared.”

“It certainly appears that way,” one of the investors said.

I returned to my seat and folded my hands over the folder in front of me.

Then Ethan turned to him. “Mr. Collins, I’m sure you’ve reviewed the documents already, but I’d still like to hear it from you directly. What exactly made Winston Watch Company worth a fifty-billion-dollar investment?”