Chapter Three

Castor shifted, trying to get comfortable in his seat on the private plane Leia had arranged. Shouldn’t be hard. He’d designed this plane and it was the lap of luxury. The jet seated ten, operated with a crew of two, and boasted a modern interior—all supple black leather, shining chrome, and that new jet smell.

The constant clack of Leia’s fingers on her keyboard sounded ahead of him to the right.

Damn that had been close yesterday. She’d been on the verge of giving him that damn letter of resignation. Again. He’d headed her off only to come a hair’s breadth away from losing her anyway, pushing her to accompany him to this wolf-shifter thing.

Castor stared at the side of her face now. She refused to sit with him on flights unless she needed him for what she was working on. The first time they’d traveled together, he’d asked her to move closer.

“Do we have work to get done?” She had looked at him with those wide blue eyes and not even a hint of interest beyond an answer.

A new experience for him.

“No,” he’d said slowly.

“Then no thanks.” She had given him a half smile that he guessed was meant to soften the blunt words but didn’t really help. Then she had turned and plopped into a seat toward the front.

He’d taken his own seat with a lingering sensation of bewilderment and amusement. Women usually threw themselves at him. Granted, he’d asked Delilah for an EA who wouldn’t. He just hadn’t expected Leia to be quite that…diligent about it.

Now, he read the same paragraph for the fifth time in a row and gave up, closing his own laptop. The plane dropped slightly, and he glanced outside to see mountains not far below. They’d be landing before long.

Leia’s typing hadn’t slowed. Did the woman ever ease up? She’d shown up at five in the morning for their early flight dressed in her usual neutral—black today—business attire of skirt and top with matching jacket. Not a hair out of place, makeup at a minimum, nails manicured but simple. Not that he could talk, as he was equally formal in a gray, custom-made silk suit, hand-stitched and fitted to perfection. Appearance mattered in the business world.

Still, none of her efforts to play things down could hide her intrinsic beauty. Leia glowed with a loveliness he realized came as much from—maybe more from—the inside as it did the outer wrapping.

A quick glance showed him her arm and the edge of her face, the rest of her blocked by the black leather back of her seat. He studied her quietly—the curve of her cheek, her long dark lashes, her honey blond hair, worn down today, tucked behind her ear. A wicked urge to nibble at the lobe tugged at him, and he adjusted his uncomfortably growing erection as his body responded.

Guilt counteracted the response. Guilt for the idea that maybe he was only pushing his own agenda here. He should just accept her resignation and send her home. Less complicated for both of them.

He took a sip of his coffee—black, strong, bitter…and cold. He made a face. His brain was definitely not engaged today.

Suddenly, Leia swung around. She blinked to find him already watching her but didn’t even give him the satisfaction of widened eyes or a blush. Nothing.

Castor raised his eyebrows in question.

“We’re coming to the end of the three-month period of support for the Aaron family,” she said.

He cleared his throat. “How is Tyler progressing?” He already knew. Jordan Aaron was one of his employees, and his son had leukemia. Castor visited often but kept that from everyone, even Leia.

Her eyes lit up. “He’s in full remission.”

He nodded as though that was news. “Excellent. Do they need another three months, or should we consider a different need?”

Castor had been covering all the hospital bills for the past six months. Leia had stumbled across his one-man charity for the employees of Dioskouri Enterprises a few months after starting work for him and had asked to help organize it. They selected a different family to help every three months based on needs. But Leia and the families involved were sworn to secrecy.

He didn’t need this getting out in the world and ruining his reputation as ruthless and brilliant. Soft was not a descriptor he cultivated. Even if helping in these small ways—to humans or non-humans—gave him a buzz not even designing a new plane could do.

Especially when Leia looked at him like he had a good heart.

She pursed her lips, most likely completely unaware of the impact that one small change in expression did to his cock. “I think,” she said, “with the help you’ve already provided, they are through the worst. Fiona Olline’s mother is about to need hospice. I feel there’s a greater need there.”

Castor waved a hand. “I trust your opinion.”

She nodded and turned back to her computer. “Softie McCares-a-Lot,” she muttered to herself.

“Share that opinion and you’re fired.”

The second the words were out he grimaced, then schooled his features to neutral when she turned, as if to assess his seriousness. He raised a single eyebrow and said nothing. After a second she shook her head at him before returning to her work.

He blew out a silent breath.

The thing was, he wanted her to think well of him. That silly muttering made him want to beat his chest and do more good things, just to make her like him. Which was damn ridiculous. Olympus help him, something was going to have to give.

Hence the unaccustomed thoughts bombarding him about this weekend. He’d already planned to bring her. He hadn’t been joking when he’d asked for her help. She was his buffer at this thing. But then he’d seen that fucking resignation letter and was running out of time.

Now he had a few days to… What? Win her? Seduce her? No…find out if this thing was mutual or not. More importantly, why did she want to leave? Had she realized his changing feelings and this was her way of rejecting him? Leia gave every appearance of loving her work. Happy, satisfied, fulfilled employees were a source of pride for him as a successful businessman. Her plan to leave had triggered a response close to caveman level. He didn’t like it.

“Are you challenged?” he asked, his thoughts out of his mouth before he vetted the words first.

Those long, slim fingers paused in their nonstop motion, and she turned in her chair to frown questioningly at him. “Sorry?”

“At work. Are you feeling challenged?” What was wrong with him, blurting it out like that? Usually he was more…subtle.

She blinked at him owlishly, which made him want to shift in his seat like a naughty schoolboy. “Is this about my not wanting to come on the trip?”

“No. This is about your job satisfaction.”

Her expression didn’t change. If anything, she looked more confused. “Did you know satisfaction in one’s job is the number one contributor to personal happiness? They did a study.”

He ignored her factoid segue. “Are you?”

“Yes.” She drew out the word, obviously not knowing where he was going with the question.

“That doesn’t sound sure. Want to rephrase?”

She continued to stare at him with those cobalt blue eyes that seemed to see too much of his soul. “Is there something wrong you’re not telling me?”

He cocked his head. “Why?”

“Because you’ve never asked me a question like that.” She shrugged. “I know the business is doing great, but maybe there’s a problem with your family? Is Pollux okay?”

And there it was again. A twinge of irrational annoyance—he refused to dub it jealousy—at the idea she might be interested in another man. He’d experienced it twice yesterday. Once with Mike, who’d obviously been hitting on her. The other when he’d realized she’d have to cancel a date this weekend. Now he was suspicious of his own brother. He was losing his mind and his self-control. His attraction to his wife hadn’t been nearly this disconcerting.

Get a grip.

He ran a hand over the smooth chrome of his armrest. “Pollux is fine. Answer the question.”

She stared at him blankly, a look which he returned with a poker face the pros would envy.

“I love my job.”

He couldn’t mistake the sincerity in her voice. But why, then, did she want to leave? “Maybe you need more responsibility? Or maybe you want to do something else within the company? Although I’d hate to lose you as an assistant—”

He cut himself off. He was babbling now. He never babbled.

“No.” She folded her hands in front of her, and even that gesture had him thinking things he shouldn’t. “I’m not exactly shy about speaking up,” she said.

He chuckled around the frustrating level of tension building in him. “That’s true.”

She tossed him another look—concern obvious in her clear eyes—then turned back to her work, effectively dismissing him. He watched her for a bit, battling with the strangest urge to brush her hair away from her neck. Would she lean into his touch or jerk away?

Needing distraction before he embarrassed himself, he reopened his own laptop and tried to read some new contracts until they landed. The nice thing about flying private was how quickly you got out of the airport. Rather than hire a driver, Leia had a rental car waiting for them at the gate. Their luggage was loaded, and they were away within minutes.

At first, they concentrated on getting out of Fort Collins and heading up into the mountains. Eventually they hit a long stretch.

“So…” Leia broke the silence. “Tell me more about this ceremony.”

He’d already filled her in on the business deal, a large fleet of private aircraft and vehicles for the new combined wolf pack. “Marrok Banes has been a friend for many years.”

“He’s the groom?”

He nodded. “Yes, and the alpha for his pack.”

“You said Banes/Canis. Weren’t their families in a bit of a feud the last hundred years or so?”

He took his gaze off the road for a brief second to send her a surprised glance.

“What? Even nymphs without a spring to their name have a few friends left.”

Not many, her tone implied, but he should’ve figured she’d know something. Nymphs were bound to nature, as were wolf shifters, though in different ways.

“You’re correct about their families. The Titans and Gods have nothing on the Banes and Canises.” He exaggerated, but not by much. “However, Marrok has been determined to end the feud.”

“Let me guess, he’s marrying the Canis alpha’s daughter?”

“No. The alpha herself.”

“Oh!”

Female alphas were rare in the physically dominant wolf shifter world where alphas earned their right to lead, often in bloody ways.

“Does he love her?” was her next question.

“No idea. Knowing Marrok, love didn’t enter into the plan. But you could ask Delilah.”

She jerked her head to look at him. “She’s involved?”

“She introduced the idea to both of them, from what I understand.” Apparently, the enigmatic woman could add matchmaker to her list of services.

Leia glanced away, out the passenger-side window. “Interesting.”

He cocked his head at the disdain he detected in her. “Are you a closet romantic, Lyleia?”

No reaction. “You never call me Leia. Why is that?”

A non sequitur, like she often employed with him. She probably thought he used her full name for formality and distance, and that had been true at first. But gradually, that had become his name for her. His. And no one else’s. “It’s a beautiful name. Your true name,” he said. A name and a life she seemed to hide from. “Why won’t you look at me? Maybe you are a closet romantic.”

“I wasn’t not looking at you. I was looking at the scenery.” She waved a hand at the mountains. They’d left the interstate and were following Highway 36 along the St. Vrain river.

“Your side is solid rock,” he pointed out. “The scenery is out my side.”

From the corner of his eye, he caught her small movement as she raised her chin.

“I was keeping an eye out for bighorn sheep.”

“Sheep,” he repeated, not hiding his skepticism.

“Yes. According to my research, they’re more common down Big Thompson Canyon, north of here, but have been seen in this area as well. I’ve never seen one.”

He had to give it to his EA…she could bluff with the best of them, but he still wasn’t buying it. “Being a romantic isn’t a bad thing you know.”

“You’re an expert on romantics?”

He grunted at the disbelief in her voice. “I was one. A long time ago.”

She turned in her seat to face him more fully. “You?”

“Yes, me. I was married, you know.”

He waited for the sting of memory that always came when he talked of his wife. But, while the dull ache remained, the bite wasn’t harsh anymore. Softer. More bittersweet.

A rare interest lit Leia’s eyes. “That was a long time ago, Castor.”

No judgment filled her voice. More…concern. For him?

“I loved her deeply. We were childhood sweethearts. After she died, I never expected to love like that again, and I haven’t.” Now why had he confessed that? He never talked about Hilaera. Maybe the similarity between his wife and his feelings for Leia now, though the two women had nothing in common, had him thinking more of that time.

Leia was quiet for a long stretch of road. “Do you miss her?” she asked, her tone noticeably gentler.

He could have given a trite answer, but he didn’t want to. “Every day.”

She fiddled with her hands in her lap. “Are you lonely?”

“I’ve managed to keep occupied.” He tightened his grip on the wheel. He didn’t want her pity.

“I just…don’t like the idea of you lonely.”

His eyebrows shot up.

She rushed to explain, stumbling over her words. “It seems wrong. For someone immortal. Someone so strong. You know?”

He grunted a reply, thinking over her words. “I get the feeling you’re just as lonely.”

That wiped every emotion from her face in one fell swoop, automation taking over. “I’ve always been happier on my own.”

Castor hid a sigh. Damn.