Chapter 26
Hazel's POV
The glass doors of Val's towering company reflected the bright afternoon sun as I approached.
Out of the corner of my eye, a familiar figure emerged, his stride as self-satisfied as ever.
Great. Nate.
I sighed the instant his sharp gaze found me, that infuriating smirk already curving his mouth.
"Another day to listen to a dog bark," I muttered under my breath.
"Well, well. Isn't this the disowned daughter of the Vernon family," he drawled, stopping right in front of me.
"And this must be the renowned CEO of Hans Company," I shot back, letting sarcasm drip from every syllable.
His grin widened. "Strange. You haven't stalked me for months. Finally grown a conscience, or are you slowly developing a brain?"
"Reverse, actually." I tilted my head. "How would you know I stopped stalking you unless you were waiting for me every day? Anticipating my every move?"
I flicked my hair over my shoulder, lowering my voice just enough to watch his eyes narrow, a hint of unwanted hunger flickering there. Perfect.
"You always said you liked submissive, shy omegas," I murmured, lips curling. "Pity."
His gaze swept me from head to toe, far too openly.
"Do I suddenly look seductive enough to tempt you?" I asked, teasing, before he could string together another insult.
"Too bad, Nate. You're already glued to my ex–half-sister. I can't possibly sin by hooking up with you. So don't imagine rubbish." I winked and stepped past him.
"You've grown shameless," he barked.
"Or maybe I'm just being an alpha," I tossed over my shoulder.
His voice snapped after me like a whip. "Does your new man work here? Did you become someone's mistress? A call girl?"
I stopped and turned, giving him a cool once-over.
"The fact that you're this foolish makes me question your competence. Are you naturally dumb, or just pretending? Don't tell me someone else runs your company for you—otherwise it should have collapsed by now. Maybe that's why you're loitering here, panicking about your own failing business."
I let the words slice, then added with a slow smile, "Instead of trading words with a beauty like me, perhaps focus on saving your precious industry."
His face burned red as I walked away, leaving him to choke on his own fury.
---
The marble-lined lobby of Val's company gleamed under soft lights. A polite receptionist looked up as I approached.
"Good afternoon, ma'am. May I help you?"
"Which floor is Val's office on?" I asked. Her eyes flicked over me with a faint, questioning edge.
I sighed inwardly. "Never mind. I'll call him myself."
Pulling out my phone, I dialed. The call connected almost instantly.
"I'm at your company," I said. "The receptionist has no idea who you are. How do I get to you?"
A beat of silence. Then his voice—cool, deep. "Okay."
The line went dead.
I stared at the screen. "Okay? That's it?" Typical Val. Endless when he's teasing, abrupt when it matters.
"If he keeps me waiting, I'm leaving," I muttered.
"Miss, you can sit while you wait," the receptionist offered again, her voice losing its earlier warmth. From the faint daisy-sweet scent curling off her, I pegged her as an omega. Her polite smile barely concealed a dismissive little smirk, as if I were some overdressed nobody.
Before I could reply, a team of sharply dressed security guards appeared, their movements crisp and synchronized, drawing curious glances from the lobby.
"Mrs. Hazel, this way, please," said one, a tall man in a perfectly cut suit. He gestured respectfully toward the private elevator.
I arched a brow. "What's with the parade?" I muttered, following anyway.
As we passed the receptionist, I caught her staring, mouth slightly open. I gave her a deliberate, cool glare. Her head ducked instantly, chastened.
The elevator hummed as it climbed. Soon we stopped at a hushed corridor of polished wood and soft carpet. "Please wait here, ma'am. Sir Val is in a meeting," the lead guard said.
"Wait? Not in the mood."
Without another word, I pushed open the conference-room doors.
---
The atmosphere inside hit me like a sudden winter. Conversations died. All eyes turned.
At the far end of the long obsidian table sat Val, his presence a dark, commanding weight.
The aura around him was almost visible—power wrapped in ice. To anyone else it would be terrifying.
To me, he was simply Val. My demon in a suit.
The room brimmed with men and women who, judging by their clothes and guarded expressions, were powerhouses in their own right. But with Val presiding, they seemed like courtiers before a king.
A man—assistant secretary, judging from the tablet in his hand—rose quickly and offered his seat. I accepted with a small nod, meeting the curious, half-fearful gazes around the table.
"Continue," Val said, his voice a low command.
The meeting resumed in stilted bursts. "Next… next… next…" he intoned as designs for their upcoming project flashed across the screen.
The theme was Maturity, yet nothing pleased him. Each proposal died under the weight of his silence.
I studied the rejected designs. Pretty, but hollow. No soul.
"May I try?" The words slipped out before the next presenter could speak.
Val's eyes met mine. He held the stare for a long, charged two minutes before giving a single, almost imperceptible nod.
I raised a brow. "Thirty minutes," I said, setting a timer and pulling a sleek digital pad toward me. The room buzzed with doubt, but I ignored it.
Sketching had been my quiet obsession during long hospital stays in my previous life. My hands moved on instinct, shaping lines and shadows.
When the timer chimed, I tapped project. My design bloomed across the massive screen—a blend of sleek geometry and subtle warmth, a quiet strength that whispered rather than shouted.
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the room.
I turned to Val, expecting at least the ghost of a smile.
Instead his frown deepened.
Confusion prickled through me. Don't tell me he isn't satisfied.
Around us, the board members watched, breath held, waiting for their ruler's verdict.
Val's gaze stayed locked on the design, lips moving slightly, as though words gathered at the edge of his tongue…