Chapter 203: Chapter 203 Unwanted Encounters
Author
Vincent had been on edge for days.
Like, genuinely on edge. The kind where every unexpected knock at the door made him flinch, every unknown number made his stomach drop.
It all started at Alpha Dominic’s mating ceremony.
He’d run into Patterson there. Patterson. The guy he’d hooked up with one time. One. Time. And that one time had been enough to haunt him for weeks.
Because Patterson hadn’t just slept with him. Patterson had flipped him over—literally, physically flipped him—without asking. Without warning. Without so much as a "mind if I take the lead?"
And Vincent had let him.
That was the part that burned the most.
That night was supposed to be a one-time thing. A mistake. A secret he’d take to his grave.
Ever since then, Vincent had been dodging, deflecting, and praying he’d never see that smug face again.
He was careful. Always had been. Sure, he had his regulars, but he made them get tested first. He wasn’t about to catch something just because he needed to scratch an itch.
He kept himself in shape too. Six feet, lean but solid. Good build. And yeah, he had a type—soft-faced younger guys who looked like they needed someone to take care of them.
Alpha Dominic never let him live it down.
Vincent couldn’t help it. Women just didn’t do it for him.
For years, Alpha Dominic had played the perfect beard, deflecting questions from their parents about why Vincent was still single.
But now? Alpha Dominic had gone and gotten himself mated. Married. Off the market. Leaving Vincent to face the firing squad alone.
He was screwed.
Alpha Dominic liked women. Always had. But Vincent liked men. And that wasn’t going to change just because his family wanted grandkids.
Last month, after a massive blowout with his parents, Vincent had stormed out. He’d hit up some bar to cool off, had a few too many drinks, and somehow ended up in bed with Patterson.
He hadn’t even known who Patterson was at the time.
His ass had hurt for two days.
It was supposed to stay buried. A drunken mistake that would fade into nothing.
Except now Patterson was here. Again.
"Mr. Vincent?" His secretary poked her head into his office. "The lawyer from our new partner firm is here. Do you want to meet with him?"
Vincent waved her off. "Send my assistant."
"He’s out of town, sir."
Right. He’d sent his assistant to Haicheng yesterday.
Vincent sighed. "Fine. Five minutes. Conference room."
He pushed open the door and froze.
Amber eyes. Sharp jawline. That same predatory smile.
His ass clenched instinctively.
Fuck.
He had no idea their new legal partner was Patterson’s firm.
Patterson stood, smooth and polished in his tailored suit. He extended a hand. "Mr. Vincent. It’s a pleasure."
Vincent stared at the hand like it might bite him. He forced a smile. "Mr. Patterson. Likewise."
He didn’t shake.
Patterson’s smile didn’t waver. He withdrew his hand, unfazed.
His secretary launched into some spiel about contract terms and legal frameworks. Vincent didn’t hear a word of it. His brain was too busy screaming at him to get out.
His secretary elbowed him in the ribs.
Vincent snapped back to attention. "Right. Uh, we trust your firm’s expertise. Looking forward to working together."
Patterson’s eyes narrowed slightly, catching the awkward exchange.
"Perhaps we could discuss things further over lunch?" Patterson offered.
Vincent’s smile turned brittle. "Sorry, Patterson. I’m booked today."
"No worries. Another time, then."
Vincent watched him leave, then collapsed back into his office chair and let out a long breath.
He needed to fire this law firm. Immediately.
His phone buzzed.
A friend request.
Note: Mr. Vincent, interested in meeting up?
Vincent stared at the message, his blood pressure spiking.
Meeting up?
Over his dead body.
That night had been a mistake. A drunken, regrettable mistake.
He hit decline and blocked the number.
"Maggie," he called. "Find us a new law firm."
His secretary blinked. "Was there a problem with today’s meeting?"
Vincent’s jaw tightened. "The firm’s fine. The lawyer’s not. Just do it."
"Understood."
---
That evening, Vincent went to one of his own clubs to unwind.
He was between partners right now. Needed some space to breathe. Some quiet. Some distance from the chaos his life had become.
Of course, the universe had other plans.
Because Patterson was there.
Gone was the polished lawyer in the crisp suit. Gone was the professional mask, the calculated distance, the pretense of civility.
Tonight, Patterson wore a black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a sharp collarbone and the hint of muscle beneath. He’d ditched the glasses. His amber eyes gleamed with something dangerous in the low light of the club.
"Mr. Vincent. What a coincidence."
Vincent ignored him, swirling the whiskey in his glass.
Patterson sat down next to him anyway.
Close enough that Vincent could smell his cologne.
Vincent scowled. "We’re not friends, Patterson. Back off."
"Am I too close?" Patterson’s voice was low, lazy. Dangerous. "We were a lot closer that night."
Vincent’s grip tightened on his glass. His knuckles went white. "Don’t remind me."
"Why not? You seemed to enjoy it."
"Enjoy—" Vincent sputtered. His face flushed. His composure cracked.
"I was drunk! And you—" He stopped himself, glaring. "We’re not compatible, okay? Wrong alignment. It was a mistake. Move on."
"A mistake?" Patterson’s lips curved into a smirk. Slow. Deliberate. Like he was savoring the word. "Funny. I remember you being the one who kissed me first."
Vincent’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
He had no comeback. Because Patterson was right.
That night, Vincent had been the one to lean in. The one to close the distance. The one to grab Patterson by the collar and pull him close.
He’d been drunk, yes. But he’d been sober enough to know what he was doing.
That was the part that made him angriest.
Vincent shot to his feet, grabbing his jacket. His movements were sharp, jerky, desperate. "I’m leaving."
Patterson moved faster, stepping into his path.
At six-three, Patterson towered over him. Vincent’s head barely reached his chin. He had to tilt his face up to meet Patterson’s eyes.
And in doing so, his lips brushed Patterson’s jaw by accident.
It was barely a touch. A whisper of contact. A ghost of a kiss.
But it was enough.
Patterson’s arm snaked around his waist, pulling him close. Their bodies pressed together. Vincent’s chest collided with Patterson’s. The heat was immediate, electric, infuriating.
Vincent exploded. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"
Smack.
Patterson’s hand landed on his ass. Not hard. Not violent. Just firm enough to make a point. A statement. A claim.
"Nice."
Vincent saw red.
His elbow flew into Patterson’s chest. Hard. Without hesitation. "I’m going to sue you for harassment, you perverted bastard!"
He shoved past Patterson, stumbling slightly, his face burning.
He didn’t look back.
He stormed through the club, past the bar, past the confused stares of his staff, and out the front door into the cool night air.
His heart was pounding. His hands were shaking. His ass tingled where Patterson’s hand had landed.
He wanted to scream.
Patterson watched him go, his smirk widening.
