His Rejected Mate, His Obsession

Kiara

Six years later,

I slipped through the mannequins like I wasn't even there, quiet, invisible, just trying to move fast enough to not be seen. I ducked into the side door and pushed my way toward the reception.

My feet ached already.

I sank behind the counter and breathed out like I'd just finished running a marathon no one clapped for.

The computer beeped in that annoying way it always did. I typed in my passcode like muscle memory, and just like that, the beeping stopped.

Then a man walked in from the side door.

His eyes were heavy, swollen like he hadn't slept in days.

"Is my order ready?"

His voice was sharp. I could Immediately tell that he was already irritated.

"What's your name, sir?" I asked, fingers already hovering over the keys.

We got people like him every week. The type that wandered from the first floor all the way to the third just to start a fight.

I could already tell what kind of customer he was. His whole energy screamed confrontation. But I tried-I really did-to keep my face still.

Don't judge. Don't assume. Just stay neutral. Do the job.

"Don't look at me like that," he snapped.

I blinked. "Like what?"

"You're talking back, huh?" He leaned in, close enough that I could smell his breath. His hand lifted, reaching toward my face.

I instantly slapped it away, hard.

I didn't even have the time to think it through.

I glanced toward security just in case. I wasn't scared.

If I wanted, I could rip him apart right here. Tear him into meat and not feel a damn thing.

But I couldn't afford that.

Not now.

This job was everything. My only lifeline.

So instead, we argued.

He tried to reach for me again and I told him off. My voice wasn't sweet. I didn't fake it for him.

When he finally stormed out, the tension snapped like a rubber band in my chest.

I breathed in, then out.

Then-

"Stop acting foolish at the very least!"

It was Erica. My boss.

I didn't need to turn. I already knew the voice.

I winced.

"Why would you speak to a customer like that?"

I swallowed. "You didn't even bother to ask why I did it."

"Again with the excuses!" She shouted, loud enough that my headache pulsed harder.

Unfair. She didn't even care what he did. She never cared.

"I work long hours," I muttered. "And someone comes in here-"

"You can quit then! Go find somewhere else to hide your pathetic self, huh?"

I sighed.

I clenched my hands, fingers curling into dry fists.

I couldn't say anything else.

I could've. God, I wanted to. But I didn't.

Because she was my boss. Because I had responsibilities now.

Because this wasn't a life I chose. It was one I was dragged into.

I had to survive.

I thought back. Back to that night.

The betrayal. The blood. The claws. My sister's face.

I had crawled my way out of hell with nothing but grit and silence and a hunger to stay alive.

No one knew me here. No one asked questions. I hadn't spoken to anyone from my past in six years. No Chase. No family.

Last I heard, Chase had left town.

Good for him.

I didn't care.

My boss turned with her usual exaggerated sigh. "How many times do I have to tell you-standing here means you're the face of my shop. At least try to look like it."

"I'm doing my best," I said.

"No, you're not," she said with that fake little smirk she wore like perfume. "You think I should do everything around here too? You look like you're ready to scare the clients away."

I said nothing.

Because I'd learned.

You don't fight her. You just wait. Let her talk herself out. She always did.

She'd hated me from day one, and I still hadn't figured out why. Maybe I reminded her of something. Maybe she just needed someone to hate.

"And you're not the type to be left alone," she added with a snort. "That's the problem, Kiara. You don't know the first thing about business."

"I should get back to my post," I said, my voice low, tired.

I circled around, one hand on my waist, not even sure where I was going.

Standing in one place made my knees scream.

Then the bells rang. The doorbells from the front.

I turned.

"We have a VIP," I said.

She stopped mid-rant. Her eyes snapped to the entrance, then lit up.

Money.

That look she got-it wasn't even excitement. It was hunger. Greed.

Because VIPs meant cash, cash meant prestige. And Prestige meant she could keep pretending I wasn't the reason her business was still afloat.

She wouldn't fire me. She couldn't. I was her best designer.

If there was a big name walking through that door, she'd shove me out front no matter how much she hated me.

It was just how people worked.

She practically skipped away, her heels clicking too loudly on the tile.

Her laugh echoed through the showroom.

That was definitely not just another VIP.

It had to be someone big.

I peeked out and saw her lead him toward the back. The measuring room. The private one.

She sounded... different.

Excited. Breathless. Giddy. Like a girl on a date, not a boss handling a client.

I tiptoed closer.

The door was slightly cracked. I pushed it open just enough to peek in.

His back was broad. Posture confident. He leaned slightly as he walked like the room itself didn't matter. Like nothing mattered.

Erica was practically bouncing beside him.

"You haven't been in here in three years," she said in her overly sweet voice. "I thought you abandoned my business ."

He chuckled.

Smooth.

Deep.

That sound alone made me pause.

I didn't know him.

But just from that laugh, that voice, I could imagine.

He was the type of man people didn't forget. The kind women whispered about after he left.

I shut my eyes. Just for a second. And imagined what it would be like to have someone like that as my own client, mine, not Erica's.

I loved what I did. I did. The joy of clients seeing my designs, the way they lit up when they wore something I made.

But Erica...

She stole everything.

Every piece I made, she claimed. Every compliment, she swallowed.

And I let her because I needed the job.

"I haven't been in town in five years," the man said.

Erica clutched the necklace around her neck. "I heard about the carnival. You missed it."

"Gillian made sure I didn't miss anything," he said. His hand touched the tabletop casually, like even furniture bowed to him. "But I'm back. And planning to stay."

"You're welcome anytime," she said. "You're my favorite, just so you know."

He nodded. "I like when you pretend I matter."

She laughed like it was a joke they'd shared for years.

And it probably was.

I started to turn away.

But just then, Erica saw me.

"I was just about to call you," she said, surprisingly polite. "Come in."

That rare politeness-it wouldn't last. But I took it. I savored it while it lasted and licked my lips as I walked in.

The warmth from the man's presence hit even though I had still not seen his face.

There was something about him... Something Familiar.

Familiar in a way that made my stomach clench.

I clutched the measuring tape close like it could protect me.

I'd dealt with plenty of expensive clients before.

But this man-he was different.

He didn't just wear luxury. He breathed it.

He had that air. The kind that made people listen. The kind that told you he wasn't just rich. He was dangerous. Important. Untouchable.

"Don't just stand there," Erica snapped.

Before I could move, his voice cut in.

"Let her be, Erica."

He was amused. I heard it in his tone.

Erica melted under it.

"We wouldn't want you looking bad for the reception party," she said, too breathy now. "Although I doubt you could look bad in anything."

"Well, if you're willingly allowing her to handle the measurements," he said, "then I'm not worried."

She gave me a quick glare before turning the smile back on him like nothing happened.

He beat every other client who'd ever walked through that door.

I stepped forward.

And Erica stepped back.

"I'll leave you to it then."

I moved to him, heart kicking at my ribs.

I reached to tap his shoulder.

He turned.

And I froze.

The smile dropped from his face.

His eyes sharpened.

Anger. Recognition.

And just like that- The color drained from my face.

Chase?