Chapter 164: The Call She Didn’t Want to Answer
"What?" she blurted, eyes suddenly bright. "What did you just say?"
A slow grin tugged at her lips as she leaned in.
"Yeah. Your Finnish mate wants to see you again." He repeated, a faint grin tugging at his lips as he watched her face.
"You really called him that," she said, tilting her head. "Hope you won’t come running after me if I agree to be his."
Brandon stepped closer, slow, eyes never leaving hers.
"You won’t even make it far," he said.
His mouth curved slightly.
"I already know how that ends."
He tilted his head, studying her like she was already halfway caught.
"Go ahead then."
A small smirk tugged at his lips.
"Make my job interesting."
He folded his towel once, then again, like it suddenly mattered what shape it was.
Emma held his gaze for a moment.
Then she gave a small shrug, lips curving.
"We’ll see about that," she said quietly. "Wait until then."
She turned slightly, fingers brushing the edge of the chair as if letting the thought pass.
Then her eyes flicked back to him.
"Ronan..." she said, drawing the name out a little. "What does he want from you?"
"He invited us to his mating ceremony."
She blinked.
"Real matebond?"
"Yeah."
A small smile softened her face.
"I’m happy for him."
Brandon looked at her for a moment, then leaned one shoulder against the wall.
"Why?"
He leaned back on the bed, one arm stretched behind his head, the other resting loosely at his side.
"He’s a player," Emma said, drying her hands with a towel. "No she-wolf is taking him seriously anymore."
Brandon let out a quiet breath.
"So when’s the matebond?"
"Next week." He dropped onto the bed beside her. "You want us to go?"
She shook her head slightly. "No. I need time for my matebond... and my book launch."
His hand reached for the intercom remote on the bedside table. A small blink of light pulsed on it.
He pressed the button.
"Alpha," Bernard’s voice came through.
Brandon glanced at the ceiling. "Yeah?"
"The visitor’s administrator wants to speak with your mate."
Emma turned her head toward the speaker.
"What does he want?"
The line stayed open just long enough for silence to stretch.
"The CEO of Rothwell Publishing is here to see her."
Brandon frowned. "Today’s Sunday."
"Yes, Alpha. She came Friday and Saturday too, but your mate wasn’t home."
Silence stretched for a second.
Brandon glanced at the clock.
8:30 a.m.
He exhaled through his nose. "Seriously..."
A brief rustle came through the line, like Bernard adjusting the device closer.
"Should I tell her to come back later?"
"Hold on." he said it before the line closed.
He turned his head toward Emma.
"Do you want to see her?"
His hand slid lightly along her thigh, slow and absentminded, like he wasn’t fully thinking about it.
She hesitated... then nodded.
"Are you sure?" he asked again.
Emma nodded once.
"Alright. Send her in."
He released the intercom and set it back on the table.
"Rothwell Publishing Company?" he said, eyes still on her. His hand rested loosely at her side, absent, like he forgot it was there.
"The same one," she replied. "They rejected my manuscript first."
A faint smirk crossed his face. "And now they want it."
"Obviously."
"Do you want them as your publisher?"
She rolled onto his side, propping her head on her hand. "Not yet. I need to know what they’re really offering."
Brandon gave a small nod, like he expected that answer.
"It’s not about silver," he said. "It’s about the book becoming what you want it to be."
"I know."
His thumb traced once, slow and idle against her waist before stilling again.
"You’re close," he added. "That’s the part that matters."
Emma stared at him for a second, then let out a quiet breath.
"Everyone in the pack’s going to read it," he continued. "We can pick the publisher that fits you... or we can pick the one no one talks about."
His mouth tilted slightly. "Make them famous for the book they once rejected you for."
Her eyes narrowed a little, thinking.
"That sounds like you," she said softly.
His gaze stayed on her.
"And?" he asked.
A small smile formed on her lips.
"I think you’re making a very convincing argument.
***************
An hour later, Emma stepped into the private lounge and paused just inside the door.
Soft lighting. Leather chairs. City glass behind the CEO’s silhouette.
She didn’t move right away.
She adjusted the strap of her file and walked in anyway, heels quiet against the floor. Her fingers stayed curled around something inside her file—thin paper, already worn at the edges.
A folded page slipped slightly as she moved. Her thumb pressed it back into place without thinking.
The CEO was on the device call, too caught up in the conversation to notice Emma had walked in.
Emma stopped in front of the table.
For a second, her eyes flicked to the glass wall, then back to her.
In her file, the rejection letter sat folded twice over. The words still sharp in her mind—no market value. She’d read them until the paper went soft.
Her jaw tightened a little. She let it go.
The CEO was still on a device call when Emma stopped in front of the table.
She turned slightly, motioning toward the chair across from her.
Then , she stepped forward and sat.
The CEO was so focused on her device call that she lost track of everything around her.
Emma’s hands rested on her lap, still, but her thumb kept tracing the edge of the paper in her file like it had a rhythm of its own.
The lounge stayed quiet.
Her moonallies had tried to talk her out of it—Brooklyn included—but she kept writing anyway. Lunara had laughed it off more than once, yet Emma didn’t slow down.
The middle-aged she-wolf and the warriors behind her rose as Emma has already seated. Chairs scraped softly against the floor. One by one, they dipped their heads. Even the guards at the door straightened like she had stepped into a council hall instead of her own home. Emma didn’t react much. Just a small nod. A faint smile. She motioned toward the chairs.
They settled.
"I’m sorry. I was on a call when you arrived," the middle aged she-wolf said, setting the device down.
"Oh, it’s no problem," Emma replied with a small smile.
"I’m Mrs. Celine Rothwell," she said, stepping forward with a bright grin. "Chief Executive Officer of Rothwell Publishing Company."
She reached out.
Emma took her hand.
"I’m so sorry for coming like this," she added quickly. "We heard you don’t really go out on weekends, so we thought to come early today. This isn’t a formal meeting. Just... a visit."
Emma gestured lightly toward the lounge.
"You’re welcome."
"Thank you, Mrs. Frostbane," Celine said, easing into her seat. "We only recently realized something. Your manuscript from last winter—it was rejected without a proper review. We’re here to apologize... and to tell you we want it now."
Emma leaned back slightly. Fingers folded.
"What do I get from working with your company?"
An editor among them stepped forward slightly, voice steady.
"We handle everything," she said. "Editing, proofreading, design. We shape it for your readers. Printing is covered. Distribution too—bookstores across the pack. Launch, signings... all of it."
Celine gave a small nod beside her. "We’re sorry for rejecting your manuscript."
Emma leaned back in her seat, fingers resting lightly on the armrest.
"The version I sent last winter isn’t the same anymore," she said. "Things changed... I added new parts."
Celine’s eyes stayed on her. "We’d still like to publish it."
Emma exhaled once through her nose. "I’m still working on it. I’ll let you know when it’s done."
Celine stood.
"We’ll be waiting for your call, Mrs. Frostbane."
She crossed the lounge, shook Emma’s hand again, then headed out with the others behind her.
The door clicked shut.
Emma stayed seated a moment longer, then leaned back and let out a slow breath.
Less than a month.
It stayed with her as the elevator rose, the soft hum filling the quiet space.
Her fingers rested lightly on the rail.
The doors slid open.
Brandon’s chamber door was already ajar.
He looked up when she stepped in.
She didn’t say anything at first. Just crossed the chamber and sank onto the edge of the bed beside him.
He didn’t move.
"We need to start planning the royal matebond," she said.
His jaw tightened, just for a moment.
Time didn’t wait.
He looked at her, steady.
A slow breath left him as he rose from the chair.
"It’s already started," Brandon said.
His fingers brushed hers briefly as he passed.
"And it’s not waiting for anyone."
Emma held his gaze for a moment.
Then she gave a small nod.
"Council first," she said. "A formal announcement goes out. The elders hear it before anyone else."
She moved closer to the table, fingertips sliding along its edge as she thought it through.
"We keep the original date. Send the invitations. Set the guards. Arrange the protocols... everything in order."
Her eyes lifted to his.
"If it’s royal," she said, "it’s done the royal way."
Brandon straightened.
"I’ll handle the councils," he said. "You don’t need to worry about that."
He stepped closer, eyes steady on hers.
"The High Luna, Emily, and Elara will take care of the preparations."
His voice dropped, softer now.
"You just focus on bridal shopping, yourself... and our pup."
His hand settled gently over her belly.
He lowered himself to one knee.
A quiet kiss pressed against her stomach.
Then her device rang in her hand.
Emma frowned when she saw the caller ID.
Without answering, she tossed it onto the bed.
Brandon glanced up at her. "Who’s that?"
"Evan." Her voice turned cold. "I think I
should block him."
"Find out what he wants..."
Before he could finish, the call came again.
Louder this time in the quiet chamber.
Emma grabbed the device and answered sharply.
"Evan, what do you want?"
A brief silence.
Then his voice came through, calm enough to make her skin crawl.
"I want to see you."
