Julian POV:
I ignored her stammered explanation.
The sight of her, pale and startled in the hallway outside my office, sent a jolt through me. For a month, she'd been a ghost. A whisper in the corridors. A name on reports I deliberately had rerouted through my beta, Lucas.
And now, here she was.
My inner wolf, dormant and sullen for weeks, stirred. Mine.
The possessive thought was so strong, so primal, it was a physical sensation, a tightening in my chest. I clenched my jaw against it.
I gave a short, sharp nod toward my office door.
"In."
I didn't wait for her reply. I pressed my thumb to the biometric scanner beside the door. It clicked open. I pushed the heavy oak door inward and stood aside, my posture an unspoken command.
She hesitated for a fraction of a second, her brown eyes wide with a fear that both irritated and intrigued me. Then, with a stiff, jerky movement, she walked past me into the room.
The scent of her-freesia and fresh rain-filled my senses, a stark contrast to the leather and cedarwood of my office. It was the same scent that had clung to my sheets, my skin, for days after that night. The scent I couldn't get out of my head.
The door clicked shut behind her, the sound unnervingly final in the large, quiet space.
I walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, turning my back on her. The New York skyline sprawled below me, a kingdom of glass and steel. But I wasn't seeing it. I was tracking her movements through the reflection in the glass.
She moved with a skittish energy, like a deer in a lion's den. She held the folder clutched to her chest, a flimsy piece of armor.
She tiptoed to my large mahogany desk and placed the folder on the corner, as far from my chair as possible. She was trying to be quick, efficient, invisible.
"Mr. Montgomery, the report is here," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
Then she turned, her movements swift, and headed for the door. Her hand was on the handle. She was about to escape.
A low growl rumbled in my chest.
"Did I say you could leave?"
The words were quiet, but they cracked through the silence like a whip.
She froze instantly, her back ramrod straight. I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hand remained frozen on the doorknob. A fine tremor ran through her.
I felt a surge of dark satisfaction. She wasn't going anywhere until I was done with her.
Slowly, she turned to face me. She wouldn't meet my eyes. Her gaze was fixed on a point on the Persian rug.
"My apologies, Mr. Montgomery. Is there anything else?"
I turned from the window and started walking toward her. My shoes made no sound on the thick carpet. The air in the room grew heavy, charged with unspoken words.
With every step I took, she seemed to shrink.
She took an involuntary step back. Then another.
I kept advancing, slow and deliberate, until her back was pressed flat against the cold, unyielding wood of the door. There was nowhere left for her to run.
I stopped directly in front of her, so close I could see the frantic pulse beating in the delicate skin of her throat. She had to tilt her head back to look at me, a position of complete submission. It was exactly where I wanted her.
She flinched as I raised my hand, her eyes squeezing shut. Did she think I would strike her? The thought was insulting.
My fingers brushed past her cheek, the skin as soft as I remembered. I didn't touch her. I simply reached past her and engaged the lock on the door. The soft click echoed in the silent room. A cage door swinging shut.
I leaned in, placing my hands on the door on either side of her head, trapping her completely. Her scent was intoxicating, clouding my judgment.
My voice was a low, dangerous murmur, for her ears only. "Why have you been avoiding me, Johanna?"
Using her first name was a deliberate choice. A reminder of the intimacy we had shared, an intimacy she was so desperate to pretend never happened.
Her eyes shot open, wide and startled. She forced herself to meet my gaze, a flicker of defiance in their brown depths.
"I haven't, Mr. Montgomery. I've been busy with work."
The lie was so blatant, so pathetic, it was almost laughable. A humorless smirk touched my lips. My wolf snarled at the deceit.
My gaze dropped to her mouth, to the way she was worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. A nervous habit. I remembered the taste of those lips, the soft, yielding texture.
"For a month?" I challenged, my voice dropping lower. "You've avoided my floor, taken the stairs when you see my elevator arriving, and had Lucas handle everything that requires your presence here."
The shock on her face was deeply satisfying. The color drained from her cheeks, leaving her looking fragile and utterly exposed.
She hadn't thought I'd noticed. She had underestimated me.
She knew. I knew everything. I had been watching her every move.
The realization seemed to terrify her. She swallowed hard, a convulsive movement in her throat. The wave of nausea I'd seen a hint of in the hall seemed to return, stronger this time.
My brows knitted together. The predator in me momentarily receded, replaced by something else. A flicker of concern.
"Are you unwell?"
