Chapter 71

Agnes

When I looked down at the spot where Elijah’s hand met my body, it felt as if all of the air had just been sucked out of the car.

His palm was cupping my breast.

My breast.

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t speak. All I could do was sit there, staring at it.

It felt like an eternity before Elijah’s eyes darted to mine, a flash of something I couldn’t name crossing his face. And then, just as quickly, he yanked his hand back, the movement so quick it was as if he had been burned.

“I’m so sorry,” he rasped. “That wasn’t—I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine,” I interrupted. I quickly looked away and finished buttoning up my shirt, hoping all the while that he couldn’t see the way my fingers were trembling.

Elijah’s jaw tensed, but he said nothing. Instead, he hit the gas again as the light turned green, and continued to speed toward our destination.

The silence that settled over us after that little… incident was almost unbearable.

It was just an accident—I knew that. Elijah was just acting on instinct, trying to protect me from slamming my face against the dashboard because I, like an idiot, wasn’t wearing my seatbelt.

But I couldn’t help it. I kept glancing down at the spot where he had touched me, and every time I did, my cheeks turned pink. I swore I could still feel the warmth of his palm against my breast, his thumb brushing across the part where my soft flesh ever so slightly bulged out over the top of my pink, lacy bra.

Why had I even chosen a bra like that today, I wondered? I certainly didn’t need to; I had other ones that were more practical.

Sometimes, I swore it was as if the universe was trying to subtly push me to make an ass out of myself in front of Elijah every chance I got. And that thought alone made my face heat even more.

But by the time we pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot, Elijah seemed just as perfectly composed as before. Without a word, he pulled into a spot and put the car in park. I unbuckled my seatbelt and took a deep breath, quickly glancing in the mirror to ensure that I looked presentable.

“Looks like they’re already here,” he said as he swung his door open. “You ready?”

I nodded, not giving him a chance to open my door for me before I climbed out of the car. Frankly, I wasn’t sure if I could handle the close proximity of such an act after what had just happened.

We stepped into the restaurant, an upscale modern joint that I could tell was expensive without even having to look at the menu. Elijah greeted the host with a curt nod, and we were led to a quiet table near the back, where two older men were already seated.

“Gentlemen,” Elijah said smoothly as we approached. “Thank you for meeting with us.”

The men stood, each shaking Elijah’s hand before turning to me. One of them—a portly man with a thick mustache—paused, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“And you are…?”

“Luna Agnes,” I said, extending my hand. “Elijah’s wife.”

“Ah, the secretary,” the other man, wearing a rather ugly bowtie with a polka-dot pattern on it, said with a grin before bypassing my hand entirely to settle back into his chair.

I blinked, unsure of what to say. Finally, I managed, “I’m actually the head of the design department at the pack building. Not a secretary.”

The mustached man chuckled as though I’d told a particularly good joke, while the other flipped open his menu. “That’s very nice, dear,” he said, as if I had just announced that I was the pack’s Dishwasher General.

Elijah stiffened beside me, his gaze darkening dangerously like a storm brewing on a clear day, but I shot him a warning look, silently willing him not to intervene. I could handle this. It wasn’t the first time I had dealt with rude old men, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. And if their business prospects were important to our pack, then I wasn’t going to let their snide comments make me snap.

“So,” Bowtie said, “Alpha Elijah, I’ve been considering your recent proposal. Shifting the focus to exporting more of your own goods rather than importing is no small feat, however.”

Mustache nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. Are you truly prepared to handle the additional supply chains needed for materials to produce these goods?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could say a word, Bowtie continued, “And then there’s the question of oversight. Who’s managing the day-to-day operations? You need someone with experience to keep everything running smoothly.”

“Of course,” Elijah replied with a polite smile. “That’s why I’ve been considering implementing an advisory board. Actually, it was initially Agnes’s idea to start expanding our pack’s exports.” He turned to me. “Maybe you have some input on this.”

“Actually, I do,” I said, straightening a little. “The idea of an advisory board is intriguing, but I do worry about the issue of bureaucracy holding us back from producing goods that might benefit the pack—”

Suddenly, before I could finish, Mustache chimed in. “Sorry, do you have a background in business?”

I stiffened a little. “Well, not formally, but—”

“Perhaps this is best left to the experts, then, darling,” Bowtie cut in with a wry little curl of his lip. “No offense, but with no education of your own, you likely don’t understand half of what we’re saying anyway.”

My stomach dropped. I glanced over at Elijah, who looked like he was about to blow a gasket already. But just then, the waitress appeared out of thin air, her smile cutting through the tension.

“Can I take your orders?” she asked, effectively diffusing the situation. Bowtie and Mustache ordered their meals, and Elijah ordered a steak. By now, my stomach was growling after forgetting to eat breakfast, and the BLT was looking awfully appetizing.

“I’ll have the B—”

“She’ll have a salad,” Mustache suddenly said, cutting me off mid-sentence.

I stared at him, stunned into silence as the waitress nodded and walked away.

Elijah’s chair scraped against the floor as he moved. He looked like he was about to unleash a verbal hurricane on Mustache, but I beat him to it.

“Excuse me,” I said sharply, my voice cutting through the low hum of the restaurant. Both men turned to me, their expressions warring between surprise and amusement. Like I was some kind of petulant child hopping up on a chair to give a recital.

“I’ll order for myself,” I said, shoving my chair back and standing. “And while we’re at it, I’d appreciate it if you’d address me with the same respect you show my husband. I may not have years of experience in this field, but I am his partner—in every sense of the word. So if we’re going to have a productive meeting, I’d suggest you treat me as such.”

Mustache’s jaw tightened, his cheeks reddening slightly. Meanwhile, Bowtie stared at me like I’d just grown a second head. But without waiting for a response, I turned, smoothing down my skirt as I excused myself to find the waitress.

However, despite my firm scolding, my heart was pounding as I walked through the restaurant.

Oh my god, I thought, my hand clamping over my mouth. Did I really just do that? I just ruined the meeting, didn’t I?

I found the waitress near the kitchen and quickly corrected my order, my voice trembling slightly as I asked for the BLT instead of the salad. She gave me a kind smile, nodding, and assured me she would take care of it.

By the time I made my way back to the table, I was bracing myself for the worst. I expected to find the men glaring at me, Elijah looking mortified, and maybe even a firm scolding of my own.

But when I returned, the table was empty save for Elijah. He was sitting alone, his expression oddly calm as he sipped from his water glass.

My stomach dropped. “Where are they?” I asked.

“They left.” He set the glass down and gestured to the seat across from him. “Sit.”

“Elijah, I’m so sorry,” I blurted out, ignoring his request. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I should’ve just let it go. I’ll go find them and apologize—”

“Agnes,” he interrupted, gesturing to the seat again. “Sit.”

I hesitated, my hands trembling slightly. But I pulled out the chair and lowered myself into it.

“You didn’t ruin the meeting,” he said simply once I had settled. “I told them to leave.”