Chapter 69: Didn’t notice
Chapter 69
Cameron
Lenora is asleep. Well — everyone is, really. The soft hum of the jet and the dim cabin lighting have turned the entire space into a floating cocoon.
I glance down at the work on my laptop, pretending for a few minutes that I care about quarterly projections and expansion forecasts. I don’t. With a sigh, I pinch the bridge of my nose, close the laptop, and set it aside.
Truth is, I can’t sleep. Not because of discomfort, or stress, or even the time difference. No — it’s because I’m coming to terms with something entirely new.
A desire I didn’t know I had.
Seeing Lenora with that little girl did something to me. Something I didn’t expect.
It wasn’t just cute. It wasn’t just endearing. It was... dangerous, in the way a new longing can be.
Because for the first time in my life, I looked at a woman and thought: She’d be a great mother. And not in the detached, "oh-she’s-good-with-kids" way people think about acquaintances. I mean our children. Her, in our home, holding something we made together.
And that thought didn’t terrify me. It... felt good.
My life has been going in this vague, structured way for years — business expansions, mergers, the occasional luxury escape. The plan was always the same: no family, no strings. When I died, the fortune would go to charity, the legacy clean and unmessy.
But now?
Now I’m sitting here thinking a family doesn’t sound so bad. Actually — it sounds like the one thing I didn’t know I was missing.
I think... I want that. With her.
And that’s a lot to process at thirty thousand feet.
*
Simone tells me someone is here to see me.
"Who?" I ask without looking up from my desk.
She just exhales. Long and dramatic.
I already know who it is.
And sure enough, in he comes — Ronan — sauntering into my office like he owns it, the bastard.
He walks like it’s a runway show, tailored coat swishing just enough to annoy me, and then immediately starts doing what he always does: poking and prodding.
"Ronan, what are you doing here?" I ask, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"Can I not come and see you?" he says innocently, which is code for: I’m here to bother you.
He takes a leisurely lap around my office before flopping onto the one couch like it’s a fainting chaise.
I roll my eyes.
"You see, there’s this fashion show—invite only—A-list celebrities everywhere," he says, hands making big dramatic gestures. "And I was wondering if you could do that Mr. Anderson
magic." I exhale slowly. "Do you not have a job? Do you not want one?"
"Hm... no. And no," he says cheerfully.
I respect his ability to commit to doing absolutely nothing.
"You know, my original life goal was to be a spouse. Marry someone rich, stay home, have kids. Think that’s Simone’s type?" he asks, smirking.
"Ronan."
He chuckles. "Alright, alright. I’m actually here on an intervention. Well—on behalf of my best friend."
That gets my attention. He sits up, leaning forward.
"This place? It’s fine. But Lenora’s a wolf."
I frown. "And?"
"You know how dogs can’t just stay indoors forever? They need to run. It’s kind of the same thing here."
Did he just compare my mate to a dog?
"When was the last time she went for a run? In wolf form, I mean. If I’m right, it was with Eamon... three months ago."
I pause. "I... haven’t thought about it."
"Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m here—bringing it to your attention because she sure as hell wasn’t gonna," he says.
I keep quiet, the guilt settling in hard and heavy. He’s right. I didn’t even notice.
"Don’t be like that," Ronan says, reading me too easily. "That’s probably why she didn’t tell you. She didn’t want you to feel bad about it. And she’s adaptable, you know? She’ll make this place work no matter what—until it starts quietly killing her."
I glance away, jaw tightening.
"She’s used to forests and air and—" he waves a hand— "whatever mystical wolf crap you guys do under the moon. She’s not built for permanent penthouse captivity."
"Thank you," I say, and I mean it.
"Well, always happy to help." He grins, that infuriating mix of smug and sincere.Ronan winks as he steps out.
The door clicks shut, and I’m left staring at my reflection in the dark laptop screen—already thinking about how to make it right.
*
"So what’s going on?" Lenora asks, walking toward me, her brows pinched in that suspicious-but-curious way she does when she knows I’ve spent money on something.
As always, money works best. This is a forest nature preserve, a couple miles outside town, about a four-hour drive. Normally, access is locked down—strict permits, no public runs, minimal human intrusion. But as with most things in life, rules loosen when enough zeroes line up on the check.
I slip my hands into my pockets and try for casual, though I’ve been planning this since Ronan dropped his little "wolves don’t do well in cages" truth bomb.
"I thought you could use some air," I say.
She squints at me like I’ve just told her the moon’s made of cheese. "Air?"
"Fresh air," I clarify. "The running kind. The not-penthouse, not-city kind."
Her eyes flick past me to the treeline beyond the parked SUV. The late afternoon light spills through it, dappling the forest floor in gold. I catch the way her shoulders loosen, even though she tries to mask it.
"You... bribed your way into a nature preserve," she says flatly, but there’s a faint tug at the corner of her mouth.
"Technically, I donated to a very worthy environmental cause," I counter.
"Mhm."
A long silence stretches between us, filled with wind in the branches and the faint, earthy scent of the forest. Then she smiles—not the polite one she gives at functions, but the real one, the one that shows her canines just a little.
"Okay," she says softly, almost to herself.
I nod toward the treeline. "Go. I’ll be here when you get back."