"Kiara, what does this divorce agreement mean?"
The dark voice on the line pulled her out of sleep. It was deep, cold, and far too calm to be safe.
"Literally what it says," she answered, sitting up in the small hotel room near Montmartre in Paris.
Kyrian gave a low laugh that sent a shiver through her. "Before work begins, come to my office and take back this piece of trash. At eight tonight, meet me at Villa marisole in the 16th Ashbourne lane. Bring your luggage."
"Kyrian, are you—" She stopped. Her breath caught when she caught the quiet warning in his voice.
"You do not need to worry about Fiona being called a mistress," he said. "Only our pack and a few close friends know about our marriage. To everyone else you are still the loyal Kiara, the woman who hid in the shadows for my career. If this paper reaches the public, the one they will blame is her."
The call ended.
Kiara stared at the silent phone. "This jerk," she muttered, throwing the duvet aside.
The morning air of Paris smelled of warm bread and rain as she walked to the metro. She moved slowly, had a croissant, and took the line toward La Défense, where Blackwood Enterprises occupied a glass tower above the city of Paris.
She had worked there for one year and nine months as his personal assistant, which was his mother's idea. Everyone thought she was just the quiet helper who brought the Alpha's meals. No one knew she was his wife. Sometimes she got out of his car two blocks away to keep the secret.
At her desk she opened her computer and began typing a resignation letter. If the marriage was ending, so was the job.
A colleague leaned close. "Kiara, are you quitting? Did your rich boyfriend finally propose?"
Her fingers paused. Months ago someone had seen her getting out of Kyrian's car. To hide the truth, she had claimed it was her boyfriend's car. The rumor of a mysterious rich man spread through the office like wildfire.
"We broke up," Kiara said without looking up.
"You let go of such a catch?" the woman gasped.
"A man who's only firm with his mouth? Maybe he saves the rest for New Year."
Gasps and giggles followed.
A sharp cough cut the air. Everyone turned.
"Alpha Kyrian…"
It was Nathaniel, his special assistant, standing at the door. Behind him, Kyrian himself entered the room like a storm. He wore a black Italian suit. His dark eyes carried the weight of a thousand wolves.
"Kiara," he said, voice low and dangerous. "My office. Everyone else, five thousand euros fine. Sign with finance."
The others scattered. Kiara calmly kept typing until his voice came again, even lower. "Now."
She rose and followed him through the quiet corridor. The scent of pine and cold mountain air followed him, strong and wild.
Inside his office the huge windows showed the Seine running silver under the Paris sky. He sat back, a sheet of paper in his hand. The divorce agreement.
"Alpha Kyrian," she said, standing tall.
His eyes lifted, dark as midnight. "The only stubborn thing about you is your mouth. Where did you find this courage?"
Kiara kept silent.
He tossed the paper onto the desk. "Explain the reason you wrote here."
"It means what it says."
He read aloud, voice rough as a growl. "No intimacy for two years after marriage. Unable to meet the basic needs of the woman. I suspect the man suffers from dysfunction."
The air thickened. His eyes flashed a sharp gold. The wolf beneath his skin stirred, and the faint scent of earth and storm filled the room.
Kiara's pulse jumped but she did not step back.
"You speak like this," Kyrian said, his voice deep and vibrating, "and yet you forget why you are even here."
"I don't care why," she answered, steady.
He stood so fast the chair scraped across the polished wood floor. "two years. Not once did I touch you. Do you know why?"
"Tell me."
"You came to me drowning in debt. Your father's death left you with nothing. Your mother ran. The Paris banks were ready to throw you onto the street." His amber eyes locked on hers. "I offered you a deal. Be my mate for two years. I would pay every debt. You said yes without even knowing who I truly was."
Kiara's breath caught. The memory of that rainy night on Rue Saint-Honoré flashed back—his shadow in the doorway, the quiet promise of rescue.
"It was only a deal," she said softly.
"You sold yourself to an Alpha," he said, the wolf in his voice unmistakable. "To me."
Her hands tightened into fists. "And I kept my part of the deal. I want out."
His eyes glowed brighter. "You think you can walk away from an Alpha's bond so easily?"
"I have the right to leave."
The wolf in him surfaced. His voice dropped to a dangerous rumble that made the glass windows tremble. "Without me, how will you live? On a small salary? That necklace on your neck—did you buy it with your own strength?"
"It's my life," she shot back.
He moved closer in one smooth step, the scent of the wild forest clinging to him. He gripped her chin with a hand strong enough to crush stone. A hint of claws pressed her skin. "Did someone else claim you?"
She kept silent.
His jaw tightened, eyes blazing gold. He released her sharply. "You still don't understand. You do not decide when we end. The agreement has three months left." His voice deepened to a growl that held both pain and fury. "And I am not finished with you."
Kiara drew a breath and steadied herself. "No matter how much time is left, I will not move back."
Kyrian loomed over her, his wolf fully awake now, the golden light in his eyes burning like fire. "So you are telling me that you are planning on moving out, huh?"