The following morning, while I was eating breakfast, the elders of the Shadowclaw Pack arrived. Not long after, I was summoned to Alpha Draven’s study room. When I stepped inside, the room felt heavy with authority.
The elders sat in silence while Alpha Draven stood behind his desk, his expression unreadable. They told me that starting from today, I would work as his personal assistant at Whitmore Group. I nodded and agreed, even though it was the last thing I wanted. The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the nerve center of the Whitmore Group.
The Alpha's executive floor was a fortress of glass and steel, smelling of ozone, expensive cologne, and the underlying, sharp tang of high-stakes anxiety. I stepped out, my heels clicking rhythmically against the polished marble floor. Every head turned. I could feel their gazes curious, judgmental, predatory.
But one scent cut through the sterile air like a knife: a cloying mixture of synthetic roses and bitter jealousy. "I honestly don't know what the Elders were thinking," a voice carried across the open-plan office, loud enough to be intentional. I paused, turning my head toward the source. A woman with platinum blonde hair and a tight pencil skirt was perched on the edge of a desk, holding court with two younger assistants. Ingrid Slater.
The head secretary. "Hiring a wolf from some backwater Pack to be the Alpha's personal assistant?" Ingrid sneered, her eyes raking over me with disdain. "She smells like weeds from the wilderness. I bet she's just some desperate Omega trying to sleep her way into a title". The office went silent. My Inner Wolf bristled, pacing in my mind, but I kept her on a tight leash. I didn't need claws to handle a chihuahua. I walked straight up to Ingrid's desk. She straightened, crossing her arms, expecting me to cower.
"If my scent offends you, Ms. Eliza, I suggest you see a doctor," I said, my voice cool and projecting clearly across the room. "Perhaps your nose is malfunctioning, mistaking the sour stench of your own jealousy for my perfume. Or maybe," I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice to a lethal whisper, "you've spent so much time chasing the Alpha's trail that you've forgotten what a real wolf smells like". Ingrid's face flushed a deep, blotchy crimson. A few stifled giggles erupted from the cubicles behind her.
She opened her mouth to retort, but her eyes darted toward the massive glass walls of Draven's office at the end of the hall. Through the glass, I saw him. Draven sat behind his desk, his dark eyes fixed on us. He didn't look angry. He looked... bored. He saw his head secretary attacking his "Wife," and he did absolutely nothing. So that's how you want to play it, Draven, I thought, turning my back on the glass. Sink or swim. Ingrid, realizing she couldn't cause a scene without drawing Draven's ire, slammed a thick file onto the desk. "Fine," she hissed, her voice trembling with suppressed rage.
"Since you're so confident, you can handle the afternoon shoot. We have a VIP client downstairs. Andrew Cuomo." A ripple of unease went through the onlookers. Even I knew the name. The son of the Moonlight Pack's Beta, and a human world supermodel known for a temper as volatile as a rogue in heat. "He's already fired three assistants this morning," Ingrid said, a malicious smirk returning to her lips. "He hates incompetence. Don't keep him waiting, Luna".
I picked up the file, my expression unreadable. "Consider it done". The studio on the tenth floor was chaos. "No! I said crushed ice, not cubed! Are you deaf or just stupid?" A voice boomed from the center of the set. Andrew Cuomo was pacing in front of a white backdrop, shirtless, his lean muscles glistening under the hot lights. He threw a plastic cup into a trash bin with unnecessary force. The production crew looked terrified. "This place reeks of mediocrity," Andrew grumbled, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Someone get me a shaken lemon tea from the city center. Seven pumps of sugar. Now!"
I stepped into the clearing, the file tucked under my arm. "Mr. Cuomo," I called out, my tone professional. "I am Aurora. I'll be managing your schedule for the rest of the day". Andrew didn't't even look at me. He kept his sunglasses on, waving a dismissive hand. "Great. Another babysitter. Just go get the tea, sweetheart, and maybe I won't walk out of this"
He stopped mid-sentence. The air shifted. The ventilation system cycled, carrying my scent jasmine, forest pine, and the crisp freshness of rain directly to him. Andrew froze. His head snapped toward me, his nostrils flaring. Slowly, his hand reached up and pulled the sunglasses down his nose.
His eyes, a striking amber, widened in absolute disbelief. The silence in the studio was deafening. Ingrid, who had followed me down to watch the fireworks, stood in the shadows with a triumphant grin, waiting for the explosion. Instead, Andrew's arrogance evaporated like mist in the morning sun. "Aurora?" he breathed, his voice cracking. "Moon Goddess above... is it really you?" He scrambled off the platform, ignoring the photographer, and rushed toward me. He stopped a foot away, looking at me as if I were a ghost, or a deity. "I... I thought I'd never see you again," Andrew stammered, his posture shifting from diva to devotee in a heartbeat. "After that night in the woods... the Rogues... you saved my life". I offered him a small, genuine smile.
"It's good to see you in one piece, Andrew. And fully clothed, mostly". "You know him?" Ingrid's shrill voice cut in from the sidelines. She looked like she had swallowed a lemon. "How does a stray like you know the Moonlight heir?" Andrew whipped around, a low growl vibrating in his chest a sound of pure warning that made Ingrid recoil. "Watch your tongue," Andrew snapped, his eyes flashing with Beta authority.
"This 'stray' shifted into a Dire Wolf and took down four Rogues single-handedly to save me when I was a pup. She is a warrior. Show some respect." The studio gasped. I felt the weight of a dozen stares, but this time, the judgment was replaced by awe. I looked at Ingrid, whose face had gone pale. "Shall we get back to work, Ms. Eliza? Or do you have more insults to throw?" Andrew turned back to me, grinning like a loyal puppy who had found his master. "Anything for you, Aurora. Do you want me to pose? I'll pose. I'll do whatever you say." High above in the glass tower, the war had just taken a turn Draven never saw coming.
The shutter clicked for the final time, signaling the end of the shoot. The studio crew let out a collective breath they seemed to have been holding for hours. Andrew Cuomo however, didn't rush to the changing room. Instead, he bounded off the set, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat from his neck as he made a beeline for me. "Dinner," Andrew announced, his amber eyes sparkling with an intensity that made several female assistants swoon. "You. Me. The finest steakhouse in the city. My treat. Consider it a tiny down payment on the life debt I owe you." The murmurs in the room ceased. Everyone, including a seething Ingrid, watched with bated breath. A Beta heir from a powerful Pack asking a lowly assistant out? It was unheard of. I closed the file in my hands with a sharp snap. "I'm afraid I have to decline, Mr. Cuomo. My shift isn't over, and I have a mountain of paperwork waiting on the executive floor." Andrew's face fell, resembling a kicked puppy. "Come on, Aurora. You're not seriously going to choose filing papers over a reunion with your favorite... well, acquaintance?" He lowered his voice, glancing around. "Is your Pack in trouble? Is that why you're working here? I can help. Moonlight has resources, I can help you in anyway" "I am fine, Andrew," I cut him off gently but firmly. "And I am here because I choose to be. Now, if you'll excuse me." I turned on my heel, expecting him to leave. Instead, he flopped onto a plush sofa in the waiting area, crossing his long legs. "Fine," he declared, flashing a charming grin at the stunned room. "I'll wait. Even the Alpha's assistant has to eat eventually but since when did you become Alpha Draven's Assistant." Ignoring the whispers that erupted behind me like wildfire, I marched back to the elevator. The atmosphere on the executive floor was suffocating. The moment I stepped out of the elevator, I felt the tension radiating from the Alpha's office. The glass walls seemed to vibrate with suppressed energy. I had just sat down at my desk when the door to Draven's office flew open. Draven's Whitmore stormed out. His jaw was set so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek, and his scent ozone and dark, brooding cedar rolled off him in waves of agitation. He looked like a man who had just lost a wrestling match with a ghost. He stopped in front of my desk, his shadow looming over me. "Get your things," he commanded, his voice rough. "We're going out for dinner." I blinked, looking up at him. "Excuse me? I have the quarterly reports to finish, and other things require my attention" "That wasn't a request, Aurora." His eyes flashed, a swirl of gold bleeding into the dark iris. It wasn't desire; it was the frustration of a man forced into a corner. "My grandfather... insists. We are to be seen in public. Together. Now." I realized then that this wasn't his idea. Elder Thalos and my father must have pulled the leash. My Inner Wolf bristled at his tone, but I knew better than to argue with an Alpha whose pride was already bruised. "Fine," I said, standing up and smoothing my skirt. "Lead the way." The restaurant was dimly lit, smelling of expensive wine and truffle oil. It was the kind of place where deals were made and secrets were whispered. But as the waitress led us to our reserved table, I saw a familiar figure rise from a booth near the window. Draven stopped dead in his tracks. A low, menacing growl rumbled in his chest, audible only to those with enhanced hearing. "What is he doing here?" Draven hissed. Andrew stood there, looking entirely too pleased with himself. He had evidently charmed the location out of the receptionist back at the office. "Whitmore," Andrew nodded, his tone lacking the deference usually shown to an Alpha. He turned his beaming smile to me. "I told you I'd wait." The dinner was a disaster from the start. The air around our table was thick enough to choke on. Draven sat in stony silence, radiating a cold fury that kept the waiters trembling. Andrew, conversely, seemed determined to poke the bear. "So," Andrew said, swirling his wine glass. "How long do you intend to keep her locked up in that glass tower, Draven? She's a warrior, not a secretary." "She is my Wife and my Luna, Draven snapped, his hand clenching around his fork. "And her position is none of your concern, Beta." I sighed, placing my napkin on my lap. It's an arrange marriage, Andrew Nothing more
I said it to diffuse the tension, to remind Andrew that I wasn't trapped. But the words seemed to have the opposite side effects on Draven.His scent spiked, sharp and acrid
