Page 35 of Billionaire Dragon King’s Rejected Mate

Chance picked up his coffee and walked down the corridor like he’d just wandered into the conversation instead of mentally replaying his own mistakes.

Josh looked entirely too relaxed for someone who had apparently been on late-night “possible intruder” duty.

“She’s fine, though?” Chance asked and managed to keep his tone even.

Josh glanced up. “Yeah. Just a window. Storm must’ve rattled it loose.”

Chance nodded once, like that was all the information he needed. Like his chest hadn’t been tight for the last thirty seconds.

“Good,” he said simply. “That storm was rough.”

“Yeah,” Josh said. “Knocked out power in a few places. She got lucky.”

Chance nodded again, but his mind was already somewhere else running through solutions instead of what-ifs.

Open windows. Old locks. Storms that rattled things loose. Randi, alone.

“Doesn’t she have an alarm system?”

Josh shook his head. “Nah, she lives in an older building that doesn’t have the newer upgrades.”

Chance’s jaw set slightly as he made a decision to take his mind off his own guilt. Next time he saw her, he’d bring it up. No pressure. No overstepping. Just… an option.

It would at least be a topic of conversation to start with.

His assistant handed him a message as he walked toward his office. All he saw was the name Sven and he tossed it in the trash can. Nothing he wanted to deal with.

He closed his door and stood looking out the windows. He had built his life in Florida on the careful illusion that distance could become permanent if he enforced it hard enough. He thought that oceans, time zones and deliberate silence could turn obligation into something theoretical rather than inevitable, and for long enough to almost believe it, he had succeeded.

An hour later, the door to his office opened without warning. He didn’t look up immediately to give himself a moment to mentally prepare to address whoever had decided to break the rule of not disturbing him when his door was closed.

“Chauncey.”

The voice was enough to send a chill up his spine especially when it spoke a name that didn’t belong in his office, or even in Tampa. His head snapped up and just like that, any illusion he had about distance shattered.

King Sven of Stagholt stood just inside the doorway. His broad-shoulders and unyielding posture filled the room as much as his presence with a quiet authority that made the carefully curated modern space feel suddenly too small

Beside him, no less imposing in his own way, was King Jakob of Onyxheim, his expression sharper. His eyes were already taking in everything with the kind of measured assessment that suggested he had expected resistance and was prepared to dismantle it.

Chance rose slowly, not so much out of respect but because sitting suddenly felt like a disadvantage.

“You’re a long way from home,” he said, his tone even, though something cold and certain had already begun to settle beneath it. “And my name is Chance now.”

“We wouldn’t be here if you would have the courtesy of a response,” Jakob replied in a voice that left little room for interpretation. “And regardless of what you call yourself, you are still Prince Chauncey of Noriveille whether you like it or not.”

“I left you a message that we were on our way.” Sven’s gaze held his, steady and familiar in a way that carried history whether Chance wanted it to or not. They had attended university together and while they hadn’t been close friends, they had at least been acquaintances.

Chance didn’t tell him that he had tossed the message without reading it.

“Your father grows worse,” Sven continued. “More volatile. More abusive of his position and power.”

Chance’s jaw tightened. “That’s not new. I’d call executing my brother a major abuse of power.”

“True,” Jakob agreed and stepped further into the room. He had also been a classmate but Chance had never particularly cared for him. “But what is new is how quickly the rest of the territories are losing patience with it. Your father sends his army into areas that are not his to claim, but he does so anyhow.”

Sven sighed. “Even the different factions of the Skelvors are complaining, and they’re actually the enemy.”

The implication settled heavily in the space between the three men. They were speaking of a war, even if they didn’t speak the word outright.