Page 3 of Her Purr-fect Christmas Mate

Whohadowned it. Who had sold it to Mr. Leith. Mr. Mordecai Leith, whose voice grinded on, emotionless and implacable.

“But this is, after all, the time of year for ringing out the old. Commercial leaseholders have already been notified. Notices to other tenants will go out over the next week. Demolition of the entire building will begin—”

Peony’s ears rang. “Demolition? But I live here!”

She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until everyone’s eyes swung towards her.

Including his.

His eyes were like someone had taken the night sky and turned it into polished stone. Piercing and black and pitiless. They widened, slightly, as he looked down at her, and she hated how much she still found him the sexiest person she’d ever laid eyes on.

He was about to destroy her entire life, and all she wanted to do was kiss him.

2

Mordecai

Mordecai’swholelifehadbuilt towards this moment: destroying the Hypatia.

He hadn’t been prepared to meet his mate here.

His dragon recognized her immediately. It was in raptures. It wanted him to whisk her away that moment. It didn’t understand why he wasn’t doing so.

The answer was simple.

Perhaps if he’d spoken to her before he took that asshole Blanderley’s invitation to address the crowd—the opportunity he’d been waiting for,workingfor, for so many years… but no. The moment was gone.

And the look in her eyes now wasn’t love. It was shock. Confusion. And—there it is—hatred.

A muttered aside from Blanderley: “Ignore her. She’s unimportant.”

His dragon whipped around, ready to snap the man’s head from his shoulders for daring to call his mateunimportant.It should have aimed its anger at Mordecai, instead. He kept talking, as though his tongue was on a conveyer belt. Timelines. Deadlines. The inexorable countdown towards the day the building and everything inside it would be nothing but rubble.

But the vicious glee he’d started his speech with was gone. Victory tasted like ashes. Yes, the old familiar faces had been horrified as he laid his plans bare. He’d laid his trap well. All those piecemeal agreements he’d made with the building’s owners now meant that he had a controlling interest in the site. They’d lost control over the Hypatia, and try as they might to hide it—Blanderley even inviting him up onto the stage as though he knew all about his plans and hadn’t discovered them only a moment before—they were as horrified as he had hoped.

But so was she.

But I live here. Her words echoed in his head. She lived here. She worked here. And he’d just told her he was going to destroy her life.

By the time he’d finished talking, the mood was crushed. Partygoers who’d started the evening happy and laughing drifted away alone or in whispering clumps. His mate was caught in the middle, a river stone battered by passing twigs and fallen leaves but unmoved by the rush of water. People farewelled her with smiles on their faces, but shot suspicious sidelong glances at her as they left.

He caught their whispers: Had she known about this? Why had she wasted their time talking about next year when the shop wasn’t even going to exist? She’d promised them extra shifts, training, raises after the next budget was approved—what was the point of that if she knew they were all going to be jobhunting in the new year?

His chest tightened.They’ll hate her. This isn’t how it was meant to be.

He charged towards where he’d last seen her—and she was gone, all that was left a wisp of floral perfume. He whirled around, and fucking Blanderley was in his face. Of all the people he least wanted to see.

“That went over like a cup of old sick,” Blanderley said. A day ago, an hour ago, Mordecai would have gloated over the hollow jollity in his voice. Now he just wished the man would go away. “Join us for a drink? Managers only. Figure maybe we could talk about… your announcement just now.”

There it was. The flash of desperation in Blanderley’s eyes. He’d been waiting for that flash for twenty years. It only lasted an instant, until the bastard convinced himself that he and the others could talk him around. Apply a little pressure. Make everything turn out for the best—theirbest—again.

This is what I want. Remember?Even their attempts to change his mind over drinks in God knew what sleazy club. He wanted to see them lose hope as he drank whatever top-shelf hock they plied him with.

But he needed to talk to his mate first. Explain himself.

What exactly am I going to explain to her?

I’ve taken everything from you, and I can’t give it back. Not without losing everything I’ve worked for.

---