It had started with little things: something about the way he expected to be obeyed; the cold look in his eyes when he thought she wasn’t looking at him; the way he scanned around him, constantly watching. Combined with her intuition, and a mounting feeling of danger, she was beginning to think that Gannon was probably not an ordinary person. The aura of wealth and power was obvious, but there was something else...

They were dining in a private suite in a fancy hotel that he claimed to own. ‘A family asset…’ he’d called it. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, eyes watching her over the glass as he held it to his lips. Her eyes lingered on his mouth and then lowered as his throat moved sexily, swallowing red wine, and she wondered what would happen if she tugged his tie loose and threw caution to the wind.

“You…” she answered, putting down her fork with a small clack.

He put down his glass very carefully.

“Miki…do you know what you’re asking for?” he asked quietly. “My position requires that I have no entanglements. I don’t date—I simply don’t have time for it. I can’t promise you anything except tonight, and then tomorrow we’ll go back to the way we were or not even that. Can you handle that?”

“I don’t care,” she whispered, eyes lowered. “My work hours keep me from dating and my previous boyfriends could never accept that my career aspirations always won out over time with them…I’m not asking for more than this.”

I’m crazy for you. If this is all I get, then it’s this or nothing…she thought. Just this once…I want you.

“Come here,” he said, standing abruptly.

Her heart squeezed at his words, feeling like she’d received some sort of invisible push.

“Your eyes…” she breathed, noticing a red whirl within the blue.

“Miki,” he whispered, picking her up, and carrying her into the bedroom. 

“Miki, I won’t hurt you…” he promised, as he deposited gently her on the bed. “Tonight…just let me be your lover…”

Accepting, she touched his lips with her fingers and then pulled his face down to hers.

Afterward, Gannon compelled her to a deep sleep.

“Was that wise, sir?” asked Marchand, as Gannon smoked barefoot on the balcony of the suite, shirt unbuttoned and untucked from his pants. He ran a hand through his unbound hair, while his gray-haired subordinate surreptitiously glanced at the sleeping girl, her wavy hair in disarray over one naked shoulder.

Seeing the direction of the gaze, Gannon bared his fangs fiercely.

“Do not look upon that which is mine if you value your eyes!” he snarled.

“Forgive me, sir…” Marchand lowered his gaze.

“Haaaa…” he sighed, throwing back his head, eyes squeezed shut with a pained expression. “Don’t worry. Tomorrow, she won’t remember…”

----

When Miki arrived in the executive floor atrium of the de Chambord head office the following morning, her body ached as if she’d spent the previous night in wild abandon, but she only recalled Ganny dropping her off in front of her hotel after a lovely dinner. Since there hadn’t been anything more than a chaste goodbye kiss, she shouldn’t have felt such a blush-inducing feeling between her legs.

“Monsieur de Chambord will see you now, Miss Sato,” said the secretary, interrupting her less than angelic thoughts.

She entered the CEO’s office and her hazel eyes immediately slammed into a pair of blue ones.

Seated at the desk, Gannon tilted his head and said: 

“Miss Sato. Welcome. I’m Gannon Mathis de Chambord.”

Miki screamed.

Gannon could almost see her break: something tore open inside her, ripping itself to shreds. He could see her terror as every single memory from the day before came back and he was already running towards her in panic when she passed out.

She shouldn’t have been able to break my thrall…Oh no, oh please God…don’t tell me...

With his heart shattering, he nicked her thumb with a fang, lapping the red drop.

It’s faint…but it’s still Hunter’s blood…Oh God...she’s been bait, this whole time.

An alarm went off in the hallway and Marchand’s voice came urgently over the intercom: “Sir…we’re under attack.”

His breath hissed out viciously. Moving Miki carefully to a chaise lounge, he came around the desk and pressed the intercom.

“Get all the humans out and lock the building down,” he ordered.

A shriek in the hallway and a whiff of smoke alerted him just before the door was smashed in. Eight hunters broke in and without any hesitation, they lunged towards him and Miki.

Eyes whirling scarlet within blue, he punched his hand through the one nearest him, spraying blood everywhere.

----

“How many?” he asked, sitting in front of the smashed windows. He paused to wipe a streak of blood off his cheek. Next to him, an unconscious Miki was carefully covered under his jacket.

“At least thirty of the subs are dead,” said Marchand. “And sir that hole in your side will need looked at…”

“The humans?” he asked, ignoring the old man.

“No casualties, sir.”

He sighed wearily.

“The clean-up operation…?” asked Marchand.

“Yes, deal with it. I’ll leave for Kagami tomorrow and stay with my younger brother for a while. If Father asks, just say it’s being handled.”

“What of the girl? If the Old Master knows…”

“He won’t find out,” Gannon interrupted sharply. “And you aren’t going to tell him. Are we clear, Marchand?”

There was a pause.

“Marchand…even as the ranking Alpha, I don’t want to compel you. Please. I’m asking you to do this for me. Don’t tell Father.”

“Hunter’s blood,” Marchand protested, albeit softly.

“She doesn’t know. I’ll wipe the traces. Destroy all the evidence here and in Kagami and investigate the rest. I want a full report on everything including her bloodline.”

Gannon brushed a finger over her cheek.

“Mathis, you do realize that you can’t ever be together, right?”

“I know, old man.”

“I’ll see it done, then,” Marchand sighed.

----

On the plane back to Kagami, Miki felt odd as she watched the news footage of the terrorist attack on the de Chambord tower on the tiny screen in front of her. The meeting had of course been cancelled, but she’d received a courtesy call and also a letter formally advising that her products didn’t meet the de Chambord standard. 

Somehow, she didn’t feel any disappointment. Instead, she felt strangely blank, as if the past few days in Paris had not actually happened. 

Arriving in Kagami, she was much more dismayed to find that Mari had moved out without a goodbye, and that her computer had inexplicably stopped working. To add to the string of mysteries, she’d found a handwritten letter smelling of cologne that she was certain didn’t belong to her.

Days became weeks, and then months. Paris faded, but somehow, she couldn’t bear to throw away the letter.

Only Sho remained the same as he had always been. 

“Well, what do you have for me this time?” he asked with a chuckle. He’d dropped by to check on her after she’d closed the restaurant for the night. 

“It’s a play on Mille-feuille and baklava,” she said proudly, putting a plate down in front of him, and grinning when a smile crossed his face after the first bite.

“Hmm…pastry cream lightly infused with spiced orange, toasted almonds over a whipped cream top, dusting of powdered sugar. Pastry’s spot on. The syrup…what’s in there besides vanilla?”

“Chamomile and honey,” she laughed. “Bottom layer of pastry has a heavier soak as an homage to the baklava angle…”

“What inspired it?” he asked, taking another bite. “It’s not your usual style…”

“It reminded me of someone…”

He paused thoughtfully.

“Put it on the menu, Miki,” he said, after a moment. “I know someone who’ll want to eat it.”

When he left, she took the orange scented letter and slowly slid it over her nose, inhaling deeply with eyes closed.

G....

She sighed.

Who falls in love with someone they’ve never met?