POV – James Ashford
Friday evening had come to an end like any other, yet unlike any other. Ashford Industries had emptied, the hum of fluorescent lights replaced by the quiet of the city beyond the glass walls. I gathered my coat and briefcase, moving with my usual calm efficiency, though my thoughts were not on work.
I had spent the night at home, alone, allowing myself to sink into the soft leather of my armchair, whiskey in hand. My mind wandered inextricably to her — Elena Dorne — though I had no idea she was at a bar downtown with her friend Claire, laughing and drinking cocktails to try to distract herself from thinking about me. I only knew that I wanted her. The anticipation was a fire coiled deep in my chest, restless and insistent.
Saturday morning arrived, pale sunlight filtering into my Belgravia townhouse. I dressed in casual weekend clothes — tailored chinos, soft cashmere sweater — and moved through the house in deliberate calm. Breakfast was simple, the aroma of coffee and lightly toasted bread filling the air. I checked in with Selene, who had come by briefly.
"You're unusually quiet," she observed, her sharp eyes immediately assessing my state.
"She's on my mind," I admitted. "Elena. I can't stop thinking about her."
Selene tilted her head, a small, amused smile tugging at her lips. "Careful, James. Don't scare her off. She's strong, perceptive… human, but not naive. She'll notice everything."
"I know," I said simply.
After Selene left, I joined some pack members for a leisurely morning walk. The weekend rituals were meant to distract me, but they only sharpened my focus. Every movement of the wolves, every shift in energy reminded me of human vulnerabilities, of subtle instincts. And all I could think of was her — the way she moved, the soft elegance she carried effortlessly, and the magnetic pull she had on me.
By mid-afternoon, I could no longer ignore it. I picked up my phone, feeling the coil of anticipation tighten in my chest. I dialed her number, heart steady despite the thrill running through me.
"Hello?" she answered, a small tremor in her voice that made my pulse quicken.
"Elena," I began, deliberate and low, my tone teasing yet warm. "I hope I'm not disturbing your Saturday."
"No… no, not at all," she said, voice hesitant.
"Good," I continued, letting my calm mask the tension beneath. "I wanted to ask… would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"
Her pause was palpable. "Dinner?" she repeated, uncertainty threading her words.
"Yes," I said, soft and confident. "I think we need more than brief exchanges at the office. Just you and me. No schedules, no distractions."
She hesitated. "I… I don't know. You're my… my boss. And…"
"And?" I prompted, my tone teasing but patient.
"And I shouldn't," she admitted. "It's probably a bad idea. For me. For… us."
I allowed myself a quiet chuckle. "Elena… since when have I ever asked for things that are easy or convenient?"
Her pause, her whispered hesitation, made me ache to reach for her. "I… I think… I should say yes," she finally admitted.
"Just come," I murmured, voice dropping lower, intimate. "Let's see where the evening takes us."
Finally, I heard her whisper: "I'll… I'll come."
"Good," I replied, faintly smiling. "I'll pick you up at seven. Dress as you like. Just… you."
The call ended, but the fire in my chest only intensified.
The rest of the afternoon passed in meticulous preparation. I dressed carefully, checking the car, making sure every detail would be perfect. My wolf stirred beneath the surface, restless with anticipation, as I rehearsed casual conversation, imagined the soft brush of her hand, the shy warmth of her smile.
By seven, the car gleamed under the streetlights. I slid into the driver's seat, leather cool beneath my hands, engine purring like a promise. My thoughts were a mixture of strategy and desire, calculating everything from route to timing, yet unable to quell the magnetic pull of anticipation.
I pressed the doorbell, my pulse thrumming in my ears, every muscle coiled with anticipation. The seconds stretched, unbearable, as I imagined her opening the door, the soft click of the lock, the moment she'd appear before me.
And then she did.
The door swung open, and my breath caught. She was standing there — poised, elegant, but unmistakably human in her nervousness. Chocolate ensemble hugging her in all the right ways without ever being flashy, soft waves of hair tumbling around her shoulders, heels that elongated her legs and gave her a regal posture, a small bag clasped delicately in her hand.
She froze for a heartbeat, those deep brown eyes meeting mine, and in that instant, every rational thought I had vanished. My chest tightened, my heart pounded, and the wolf beneath my skin stirred with a primal, insistent hunger. She is… breathtaking. Entirely herself, yet utterly captivating — the way she carried both grace and hesitation made her impossible to look away from.
I felt an almost reckless surge of desire, the kind that made every instinct in my body sharpen. Every detail, every subtle movement, every imperfection that made her human became a perfect lure, drawing me closer without a word. She was beautiful, magnetic, irresistible — and completely out of my reach in all the ways that mattered.
"Shall we?" I asked, my voice low, deliberate, even as my pulse threatened to betray me.
Her lips parted slightly, a small, nervous smile flickering across her face, and I realized I would never, ever tire of seeing her reaction. My mind screamed, my wolf growled quietly beneath the surface, and every fiber of me knew that tonight would be unforgettable — because she had arrived, and she was all mine to hold, even if only for the evening.
She slid into the passenger seat, and my pulse spiked. The faint scent of her perfume — warm, subtle, entirely her — filled the car, making it impossible to focus entirely on the road ahead. I pressed the seatbelt click into place with one hand, the other resting lightly on the wheel, though my senses were entirely attuned to her.
"Traffic's surprisingly light tonight," she said, trying for casual, her fingers brushing the edge of her bag. That tiny, unconscious movement made my chest tighten.
"Yes," I replied smoothly, keeping my voice calm. "Perfect timing."
The conversation began cautiously, almost mundane. "Did you have a busy morning?" I asked.
She nodded, tucking a loose wave of hair behind her ear. "A little. Nothing too exciting. Just errands and… some planning for next week."
I smiled faintly, letting my eyes wander subtly, drinking in the way the chocolate blouse hugged her silhouette without being provocative, the elegance in her posture. "Good," I said softly. "Sounds productive."
We exchanged small, light remarks about the city, the unusually warm evening, a café she recommended near the office. Casual, innocuous topics — but every word, every laugh, every glance charged the space between us.
As she reached briefly for her bag to adjust it, our fingers brushed against the console. I felt the spark, low and electric, and let my hand linger close enough that she could feel it, but not so close as to invade her space. She stiffened slightly, then gave the tiniest, nervous smile.
"You make it hard to focus," I murmured quietly, voice low.
Her cheeks colored faintly, and she let out a soft laugh. "I could say the same," she replied, just barely above a whisper.
The rest of the ride passed in similar small talk — observations about the city lights, the way the evening air smelled after the rain, a teasing remark about office politics. Nothing heavy, nothing personal. Yet with each word, each glance, the tension between us coiled tighter. I caught the subtle movements of her shoulders, the way her fingers twitched as she adjusted her seat, the nervous way her gaze flicked to mine before looking away.
Every brush, every laugh, every quiet word made it impossible to think about anything else. By the time we approached the restaurant, my pulse was racing, my wolf restless beneath the surface, and every nerve in my body attuned to her. She was elegant, poised, beautiful — entirely herself — and completely irresistible.
I killed the engine, taking a breath, and turned slightly to face her. "Shall we?" I asked, voice low, teasing, and full of promise.
She nodded, the faintest smile on her lips, and I knew this night — short ride or not — had already changed everything.