POV: Chloe

The polished mahogany door of Tristan's office felt cold beneath my trembling fingers as I pushed it open. Seven years had passed since I'd last stood in this room, yet the thick scent of his cologne—sandalwood mixed with that wild, intoxicating musk of his wolf—still sent heat rushing straight to my core, dragging up filthy memories I'd tried desperately to bury.

"Right on time," Tristan's voice washed over me, deep and commanding. He stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his tailored suit stretching across the broad shoulders that used to be my favorite pillow.

"You said you needed my measurements for the launch ceremony formalwear?" I asked, my voice...