ISLA'S POV
"Sit down, Isla."
Those three words—spoken in that deep, commanding voice—make my wolf roll over like a puppy wanting belly rubs. My human side wants to punch something.
I don't sit.
"It's Grey," I correct him again, gripping the back of a conference chair so hard my knuckles turn white. "And I'm leaving. This meeting is over."
Rowan doesn't move from where he's blocking the door. "You can't leave. We have a contract."
"A contract I signed with Meridian Development, not Blackwood Enterprises. Which means it's void—"
"Read section twelve, paragraph three," Rowan interrupts smoothly. "The contract transfers to any company that acquires Meridian. Which I did. Yesterday. Specifically for this project. Specifically for you."
The room spins. "You... you bought an entire company just to trap me?"
"I prefer to think of it as 'creating an opportunity for us to reconnect.'" His lips twitch with the ghost of a smile, and I want to slap it off his face.
"You're insane."
"I'm determined." He takes a step closer, and my wolf whimpers with need while my brain screams at me to run. "There's a difference."
I back away until I hit the window. The mate bond is pulling at my chest like a fishing line, reeling me toward him. Five years of distance, gone in an instant. Five years of carefully building walls, crumbling with every second I'm in this room.
"The bond broke," I say desperately. "I rejected you. You can't just—"
"I never accepted." Rowan's voice drops lower, rougher. "You rejected me, Isla. But I never accepted your rejection. Which means the bond is damaged, not broken. Dormant, not dead. And now that we're in the same room again..."
He doesn't finish, but he doesn't need to. I can feel it—the connection trying to rebuild itself, searching for the pathways we tore apart five years ago. It's like phantom pain in a limb that's supposed to be gone.
My hand goes to my chest, and Rowan's eyes track the movement. Something hot and possessive flashes across his face.
"Don't," I whisper. "Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you own me."
His jaw tightens. "I don't want to own you, Isla. I want to—"
"Show me the contract." I cut him off because I can't hear whatever he was about to say. Can't let those words into my head where they might take root.
Rowan studies me for a long moment, then walks to the conference table. He pulls out a thick document and slides it across to me.
I read it with growing horror.
Six months. On-site supervision required. The lead architect—meaning me—must be present for all major decisions, meetings with contractors, site inspections. And if I break the contract early, my firm owes two million dollars in penalties.
Two million dollars I don't have. That Maya doesn't have. That would destroy everything we've built.
"You bastard," I breathe.
"I've been called worse." Rowan leans against the table, watching me. "Mostly by myself, over the past five years."
"I'm supposed to feel sorry for you?"
"No. I'm supposed to feel sorry for me." His voice turns bitter. "Do you know what it's like? To find your mate and lose her in the same night? To have a bond that's broken but not broken? To spend five years unable to move on, unable to function properly, unable to accept anyone else because your wolf is howling for someone who hates you?"
"Good," I snap. "You deserve every second of that pain."
Something flashes in his eyes—hurt, maybe. But it's gone too fast for me to be sure.
"You're right," he says quietly. "I do deserve it. I was cruel to you, Isla. I made your life hell. And I don't have any excuse that makes that okay." He pauses. "But I'm asking for a chance anyway. Six months to show you I'm not that person anymore."
"What if I don't care if you've changed?"
"Then at the end of six months, you walk away. I'll accept the rejection properly. The bond will break completely. You'll never have to see me again." His eyes bore into mine. "But if there's even a tiny part of you that's curious about who I've become... isn't that worth six months?"
"No."
"Then do it for your business partner. For Maya." Rowan picks up another document. "I did my research on you, Grey. Built your firm from nothing. Put yourself through school while working three jobs. Maya Chen took a chance on you when no one else would, invested her savings into Sterling Architecture. You really want to destroy her future because you're too scared to face me?"
Rage floods through me, hot and sharp. "Don't you DARE use Maya against me."
"I'm not using her. I'm stating facts." Rowan's voice stays calm, which makes me angrier. "You have two choices: stay for six months and fulfill the contract, or break it and lose everything you've built. Your choice."
I want to scream. I want to shift and tear this room apart. I want to go back in time and never take this stupid project.
But most of all, I want to stop feeling this pull toward him. This traitorous, horrible, undeniable pull that makes my wolf sing and my heart race and my carefully constructed defenses crack.
"Fine," I finally say, the word tasting like poison. "Six months. But we have rules."
Rowan straightens, something like hope flickering across his face. "Name them."
"This is strictly professional. You're the client, I'm the architect. We meet only about work. No personal conversations. No touching. No—"
"No trying to win you back?" Rowan's smile is sad. "Isla, I'm not going to lie to you. That's exactly what I'm going to do. But I'll follow your rules. Business only, until you're ready for more."
"I'll never be ready for more."
"Then you have nothing to worry about."
We stare at each other across the conference table. Five years of distance. Five years of growth and change and pain. All of it coming down to this moment.
"I'll have my assistant send you the project details," Rowan says, his voice shifting into professional mode. "We start site inspections Monday. Eight AM."
I grab my briefcase and head for the door. This time, he moves aside to let me pass.
As I reach the hallway, his voice stops me.
"Isla?"
I don't turn around. "What?"
"I'm sorry. For everything I did to you. I know that doesn't fix anything, but... I needed to say it."
My throat tightens. I don't respond. I just walk away, my heels clicking on the marble floor, my heart pounding in my chest.
The elevator ride down feels like falling. I pull out my phone with shaking hands and call Maya.
She answers on the first ring. "So? How'd the meeting go?"
"We have a problem," I say.
"What kind of problem?"
The elevator doors open to the lobby. Through the glass walls, I see something that makes my blood run cold.
Standing by the entrance, talking to the security guard, is someone I recognize even after five years.
Celeste. My sister. Looking right at me with a smile that promises nothing good.
She waves.
"Maya," I whisper into the phone, backing away from the elevator. "I need to call you back."
"Grey? What's wrong? GREY?"
I hang up as Celeste starts walking toward me, her heels clicking like a predator closing in on prey.
Hello, little sister," she purrs. "Surprised to see me?