Page 15 of Feral King

We work through the binder together, discussing venue options, donor lists, program structure—all the important details. Julian is sharp and surprisingly knowledgeable about the finer points of event planning.

Every time he leans forward to gesture toward the binder, I find myself acutely aware of his hands. They’re big and rough, and there’s a scar across his left knuckle that I want to ask him about but don’t. I catch myself licking my lips as he speaks, his voice alone making me hungry for him.

“Focus,” I mutter to myself when he steps outside to take a call. “You cannot be thinking about your new boss like this.”

But I am. And I can’t seem to stop.

I do my best when he returns, making notes in the margins of the pages. I ask intelligent questions. Outwardly, I’m the picture of professionalism.

But inside, I’m fucking on fire.

I’m mid-sentence about seating logistics when the office door opens and Anya leans in, her expression apologetic.

“Yes?” Julian asks.

“Sorry to bother you,” she says. I have a feeling that she has bad news. “It’s Alex.”

Julian narrows his gaze. “What about him?”

“He’s here, and he wants to see you.”

CHAPTER 4

LYRA

“Request denied.”

Julian’s tone is hard, leaving no room for discussion.

But before Anya even has a chance to react, Alexander's voice rings out.

“You will see me, Julian, whether you want to or not!”

Alexander pushes past Anya into the office. He’s dressed in a navy suit, his hair freshly cut, his cuff links catching the light. He looks polished and expensive.

He also looks like a man who’s already decided that he’s going to get exactly what he wants.

“Morning, J,” he says, sidling into the office. He doesn’t sit. Instead, he stands in the center of the room, doing his best to project confidence and control. But I know him well enough to understand the insecurity that lies just beneath the surface.“Interesting night last night, don’t you think? Everyone’s talking about it.”

“Good,” Julian replies.

“Not for you, it isn’t.” Alexander’s gaze slides to me. “Lyra, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m working, Alexander.We’reworking,” I say, keeping my voice calm and level.

“Are you?” he smirks. “Or are you playing a little role here with my half-brother, intending to make me mad? Maybe even a little jealous?”

I scoff and roll my eyes.

“You think too much of yourself,” Julian says before I can respond. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, no matter how much you may believe otherwise.” He nods toward me. “She’s here because you let her get away, like the fool you are. I’m fortunate that she was willing to come back here after the way you treated her.”

Tingles crawl up the back of my neck, but I stay silent. Nothing I could say would make the situation any better.

“I’m sure,” Alexander says, shaking his head as he regards me.

Julian narrows his eyes again. “Enough.” He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. “Say what you came to say.”

“Fine.” Alexander straightens. For a moment, the mask slips and I see something real underneath—not charm, not attitude, but a desperate, burning neediness, an overwhelming desire to matter. It’s always been there, buried under all the narcissism. “I want Sophia reinstated. She was doing a perfectly adequate job before you decided to make a spectacle?—”