章節 3: Chapter 3 : Mated
*Rafe’s POV*
Earlier that day, before the conference…
It wasn’t even lunchtime, and I already had a headache. Ms. Wimbley did NOT make her leave easy, but Leo managed to coordinate things and pull everything together for the press conference.
It was the middle of the year, and a reveal of this magnitude was usually done at the end of the last quarter, but the extra attention on the company would make it that much harder for our rivals to try and pull something.
Tensions were high, especially overseas with the pressure from the old clans, so this was exactly what Silvius Enterprises and everyone else needed.
Everything was going well so far. We'd streamlined the process years ago and despite the tension between a few rivals and whatnot, I knew they wouldn't cause a public outburst.
The problem was the smell. Normally such a thing wasn't an issue–we were based in the city for Goddess’ sake. After enough time, you started to get used to the rancid smell of gasoline and alley trash.
There was something about the smell of bloodthirst that just made my head pound from the conflicted instincts though. The smell made me feel like I was being threatened; it made me want to bear my fangs. But the logical part reminded me that the reporters weren't my enemies, not in THAT way at least.
Oh, I had no doubt that some would kill me given the opportunity if just for the story of the century, but they were in my building, in MY territory. Even bloodthirsty sharks knew that sometimes they had to wait to get what they wanted. In this case, I just needed to be patient and they'd be out of my hair before I knew it.
Still, the smell of the room was hell on my senses, and it was going to be a struggle to get through the conference.
Then it changed. The bloodlust was still there but suddenly, there was something sweeter in the air. Something absolutely… mesmerizing.
I almost called Leo over to lock down the air vents and get poison control in here to test for airborne drugs. But no, that wasn’t what it was. It was something else. Could it be…?
It smelled like cinnamon and butter. Or rather, something sweet… like snickerdoodles. It smelled like snickerdoodles; warm and soft and oh, Goddess.
My eyes desperately roved the people present, darting around, trying to find the source of that incredible scent. It was lucky that I was behind the stage curtains, otherwise the headlines would’ve quickly painted me as a raving madman.
Despite my actions, I was frustrated when I couldn’t track where the scent was coming from. There were too many people and too many smells mixing together. I could try to track the scent down but the moment I stepped out, I’d be swarmed by reporters and no—there was a reason we held the conferences like this.
I had no choice but to give up my search in favor of a speech—but I wanted to do nothing more than find the source.
Priorities though. Unfortunately, this meeting was one of them.
The moment I stepped on stage, I put on a smile. The flash of the cameras burned into my eyes and reporters and journalists alike all laser-focused on me. I couldn’t help but sweep the room, looking for them.
‘Where are you?’ I wondered.
But the thought couldn’t linger; I had a speech to give and as if I flicked on a switch, I greeted the crowd. Thankfully, everything was memorized, even though my thoughts were drifting.
Having a mate was rare, and finding your mate was even rarer. It was a bit like winning the lottery but the odds were a little better than that. I couldn’t believe they were even here, let alone existed.
The knowledge that I did have one left me feeling a bit giddy, almost like a kid. Now, I just needed to find them.
I had never had a partner, at least not in my adult years. It wasn’t out of the belief that I had a mate, but because I found it incredibly hard to trust someone to that degree, especially as leader of the pack, on top of being the current head of Silvius Enterprises.
Again, priorities and responsibilities won out. I had to be careful of the people who were around me and who I let into my life, otherwise, I put everyone else at risk.
The human population didn’t know we existed and we needed to keep it that way, so that meant being careful. That meant keeping some distance, and it also meant a depressing lack of options for romantic partners.
To even have a mate though–someone who was supposed to be your other half, your better half–I knew just how incredibly lucky I was to find them. I just had to get through this meeting and then I would find them.
“—The medicine inside of the Cell-Igniter is what gives this machine its name. It promotes cellular regeneration without the risk of cancer causing cells. In short, we can now completely regenerate lost and damaged tissue to the 2nd epidermal layer.”
I smiled proudly, even though half the crowd wore dull, confused expressions. The Cell-Igniter was the company’s best idea yet. While cosmetic surgeries existed, they could still leave complications and often had to use skin grafts, which could still leave behind scarring.
The Cell-Igniter was different, using a special chemical cocktail that formed a sort of biochemical scab over the removed tissue. The materials in that patch would act as a protective film to allow the medicine to seep into skin and in essence, send the cells into overdrive to reconstruct the missing tissue.
I would’ve loved to explain that but it was already far too technical an explanation for the present company. All they needed to know was that it removed scars and that it worked—that’s all they seemed to care about, anyways. Not the long years of research and laborious testing to get this machine to where it was.
Hands were raised and I looked around, my eyes being drawn to a woman in the middle of the group. She was in a fetching blue suit, her brown hair pulled back into a bun. She had the most stunning hazel eyes.
There was no way I could say that though, so I focused on her silver brooch, amused at how surprised she was.
“Yes–ehem. To clarify, Mr. Silvius, are you saying that your technology is able to create new skin to replace lost and damaged tissue as if it was never damaged in the first place? That this little machine can do what plastic surgeons struggle to do in…how long exactly?"
There were gasps of shock and sudden realizations at her question and I liked her instantly. She summarized everything I said in an instant and followed it up, asking me to explain more about the Cell-Igniter.
It was a very intelligent and thoughtful question, not the kind I usually got from reporters. They were too focused on drama or digging for one of my secrets, business-related or not.
It was rare to get the kind of question that I actually wanted to answer. In fact, I was delighted to.
"Our studies have shown zero rejection of the new skin and, for a scar that's about three inches in diameter, the damaged area can be removed in under an hour with cellular regeneration, taking about one to two weeks to finish rebuilding the new skin.”
My eyes hadn’t left her yet, and I could see her biting her lip to stop her next question, almost making me chuckle. Could she be…
“Following that, we have just finished lab testing and are moving on to clinical trials. By the start of next year, the Cell-Igniter will be available in every hospital within the states and by the year after that, available around the world. The surgery and Cell-Igniter itself should cost very little and we at Silvius Enterprises are working to get it medically covered by most insurance companies.”
“And do you expect the government to pay for that?” asked another reporter I called on.
I inwardly rolled my eyes. “We’re structuring things so that it should be covered in medical insurance—as they tend to do. Any other questions?”
None of the other questions for the rest of the meeting were as tasteful as the first one, nor was anyone else as eye-catching as that first female journalist.
Once the cameras stopped rolling, I had the staff bring out the provided lunch made by the private chefs; a buffet worthy of a celebration. And when I disappeared, the reporters descended on it like the ravenous vultures they were.
Most of them anyways. The one reporter with the pretty hazel eyes vanished and with her, that wonderful scent. I knew I was grinning as I rushed out through the back, trying to catch up with her.
My mate was a reporter—slightly ironic but still, I was glad it was the one who had tasteful questions and not one of the ones fishing for scandals.
The power of free speech was a bitch sometimes because some people didn’t deserve to be heard with the amount of stupid coming out of their mouths. Thank Goddess my mate seemed to at least have some sense to her.
She got on the elevator and I had to sprint to catch the door—even if I didn’t though, I would’ve sprinted down all 52 flights. However, I was thankful I caught it in time; the last thing I needed was to appear desperate. My hand slipped in between the closing doors, stopping it from going any further.
“Mr. Silvius! Apologies. I was unaware you wanted to get on.” She looked a bit horrified at the thought and I quickly did my best to reassure her.
Now that she was so close, I could smell the snickerdoodle scent coming off of her in waves with hints of vanilla and nutmeg. It was addicting.
“No, don’t worry about that…Ms. Wrenn.”
Lila Wrenn, journalist from The Local Tribune. I recognized it—but only because it was a new name on the list of people allowed into the conference. Small and local, as its name suggested. As far as I knew, it was some favor from Donovan from statistics.
Well, Donovan from statistics was about to get a raise with how fantastic his decision was.
“I saw you leave and wanted to talk to you,” I noted.
She… didn’t seem to notice we were mates. That wasn’t uncommon or unheard of, there could be a number of reasons she didn’t. Maybe she couldn’t smell or maybe she was too stressed to notice. I, unfortunately, had that effect on others.
“Oh? You wanted to talk to me? I hope my questions didn’t make you uncomfortable.”
“Haha! Oh no, quite the opposite actually,” he chuckled. "I like how you kept your focus on the conference instead of fishing for drama like most journalists tend to do. It was a pleasant surprise.”
I couldn’t just let her go, but until she was aware I was her mate, I had to tread carefully. Otherwise, I could destroy our relationship before it even began.
She looked quite pleased by the praise; she must take great pride in her role as a journalist. Seeing that though…
“That’s why I think it'd be good for Silvius Enterprises to be able to be a bit more local–seeing as we are based in this city," I noted with a wink, making her flush. "Would you be open to an interview to write about my company?”
"Mr. Silvius, are you sure you’re the one supposed to be asking ME that question?" she gasped, flustered, and I grinned widely.
"Is that your answer?" I asked almost teasingly, and her gaze sharpened a bit.
Despite how nervous she seemed to be around me, there was some passion in her, and it easily overwhelmed everything else.
"I would love to," she said confidently.
“Wonderful. Then I’ll see you on Thursday, does 10:00 AM still work?”
“It’s perfect.”
“Until then, Ms. Wrenn. I’ll eagerly await your interview.” I pressed the button for the ground floor and let the doors close.
Thursday. That was enough time. I quickly pulled out my phone and called Leo.
“For the love of the Goddess, please tell me nothing happened and that I don’t have to do something like clean up a murder,” he begged. “Do you know how many reporters think it’s possible to go snooping when there’s this much guard detail?”
“I need you to get into contact with Peter and find out everything there is on the reporter Lila Wrenn from The Local Tribune,” I stated, ignoring his comment.
“Did she murder someone, or did she piss you off?” He sighed tiredly.
“Quite the opposite actually.” I was unable to contain my grin just thinking about her. “She’s my mate.”
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