Page 6 of Claws and Effect

Laykin caught Seren’s eye across the room and received a subtle thumbs-up for her handling of Marcello. The small gesture of solidarity strengthened her resolve.

Tonight was just the beginning—a prelude to tomorrow’s engagement ceremony and the months that would follow before the actual mating and treaty signing. Months of getting to know a stranger who would become her mate, her partner in leadership, the father of her future cubs.

Please let him be kind,Laykin thought as she accepted a glass of champagne from a passing server.Or at least kind enough that we can survive this together.

The weight of the Rubin bracelet caught the light as she raised her glass in response to a toast. Whatever tomorrow brought, she would face it with the strength and dignity expected of a Barclay princess. Not just because duty demanded it, but because her people deserved nothing less.

FOUR

Laykin clicked through her charity presentation one final time, mentally rehearsing key points for the board meeting. Her office at the Summit Ancestral Castle balanced modern efficiency with traditional touches—sleek laptop on an antique mahogany desk, state-of-the-art scheduling system displayed beside centuries-old family portraits.

She smoothed the lapel of her cream silk blazer, checking her reflection in the ornate mirror. The tailored business attire projected exactly the image needed for this morning’s education foundation meeting—professional, authoritative, royal without being ostentatious. Tonight would be all glitter and glamour at the engagement gala, but mornings remained sacred to her actual work.

A knock interrupted her preparation.

“Enter,” she called, expecting Seren with the financial reports.

The door swung open to reveal a woman with striking silver-white hair styled in a chic bob, dressed in a vibrant turquoise ensemble that practically hummed with energy.

“Good morning, Princess,” the woman announced, striding into the office like she’d been personally invited. “Geraldine Wilder—but call me Gerri. We have an appointment.”

Laykin’s diplomatic mask slipped only slightly. “I don’t recall scheduling anything with you, Ms. Wilder.”

“Gerri,” the woman corrected, settling uninvited into one of the visitor chairs. “And technically, you didn’t. The universe did.”

“The universe.” Laykin closed her laptop with a soft click. “Does the universe typically bypass my assistant and my security team?”

Gerri’s laughter rang through the office. “Your assistant waved me through—lovely girl, those curls are magnificent—and your security recognized me from last month’s Supernatural Charity Ball.” She rummaged in an oversized handbag. “I brought cookies. Sugar cookies with lemon glaze. Homemade this morning.”

She presented a small package wrapped in wax paper, the sweet scent wafting across the desk.

Laykin didn’t reach for them. “What can I do for you, Gerri? I have a board meeting in forty minutes.”

“Oh, this won’t take long.” Gerri set the cookies on the desk, undeterred. “I’m here about your engagement.”

“My engagement is a private family matter.”

“Private?” Gerri’s eyebrows rose. “With a guest list of three hundred for tonight’s gala? With press releases in every shifter publication from here to the West Coast? That kind of private?”

Laykin’s jaw tightened. “The diplomatic aspects are public. The personal aspects remain private.”

“Mmm.” Gerri nodded sagely. “And how do you separate those two so neatly when you’ve never even met your future mate?”

The direct question blindsided Laykin. Most people tiptoed around the arrangement with diplomatic phrases.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to?—”

“To matchmaking?” Gerri interrupted. “It’s entirely relevant. I’m a matchmaker. The best, if we’re being honest. Sometimes brutally so.” She extracted a silver thermos from her bag. “Tea? My special blend. Helps clarify... situations.”

“No, thank you.” Laykin glanced pointedly at the clock on her wall. “As I mentioned, I’m on a schedule.”

Ignoring the hint, Gerri poured herself a cup. The liquid caught the morning light streaming through the windows, shimmering with an iridescent quality unlike any tea Laykin had seen.

“Tell me about the tiger,” Gerri said casually, blowing across the surface of her drink.

“Which tiger?” Laykin’s patience thinned. “The Rubin pride has dozens.”

“Your tiger.” Gerri’s blue eyes locked with hers. “The one you’re supposed to mate.”

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