Puppy Love

**Elara POV**

"Ah, right! Um…" I let out a high-pitched, nervous laugh, desperately trying to salvage the horrible social interaction unfolding before me. The chilling recognition in his storm-gray eyes pins me to the damp grass, making me want to sink directly into the earth. My face burns hot enough to rival the morning sun. I swallow hard, my throat sandpaper dry.

Desperate to smooth over my drunken, borderline-assaultive behavior from the night before, I quickly launch into an awkward, rambling apology to the handsome VIP.

"Look, I… I am so sorry about last night," I stammer, waving my free hand in a frantic, placating gesture while my client dogs whimper behind my legs. "I know exactly how bad it looked. I had way too much to drink, and I completely lost my mind. The neon lights, the alcohol, I wasn't thinking straight at all when I kissed you. I promise I'm not usually a crazy person who just grabs strangers in dive bars, I just didn't know what I was doing, and—"

"It’s fine," Mr. Valkar cuts me off sharply.

His freezing tone stops my words dead in my throat and roots me in place. The silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating. He refuses to say another word, merely glaring down at me with a rigid posture that screams he wants nothing to do with me. Unsure of how to navigate the heavy tension and desperately avoiding his piercing gaze, I do what I always do when I'm in over my head: I deflect my attention to animals.

I reach out again to pet his massive gray dog, seeking comfort in its soft fur.

"Wait." His commanding, authoritative voice stops my hand mid-air.

I flinch, looking up at him. He stares at me warily, his dark brow furrowed in deep suspicion. His broad shoulders tense under his expensive athletic jacket.

"I don’t know what method you used to make Zev run to you, but he is not an affectionate dog," he warns, his voice dropping an octave. "He bites."

I swallow hard at the threat. But the dog is looking up at me with such sweet, expressive eyes, tilting his massive head as if waiting for me to continue. Ignoring the billionaire's dark warning, I lower my hand and gently brush my fingers over Zev’s large head, scratching the sweet spot right behind his ears.

To Mr. Valkar's obvious, wide-eyed shock, the massive beast doesn't snap. He doesn't growl or bare his teeth. Instead, Zev leans heavily into my touch. The terrifying husky lets out a happy pant, his tongue lolling to the side, and begins wagging his thick tail with enthusiastic, thumping wags against the grass.

Draken takes a step closer, bewildered. He stares at my hand buried in the gray fur, then back up to my face, as if I have just performed dark magic in the middle of the park. "How did you manage that?" he demands, his icy facade cracking just a fraction. "Zev is notoriously picky. He doesn't just let people touch him."

Sensing an opportunity to look like a competent adult rather than a drunken mess, I straighten my spine. I cheerfully pitch myself, hoping to impress him. "Dogs just naturally like me! Actually, I'm the area's most professional, highly sought-after dog walker. I know how to handle all kinds of temperaments. If you ever need some help with him, I have great rates and I could easily—"

"I don’t need to pay someone to do something so frivolous," he states coldly.

The harsh words completely shut down my pitch. Stung by his condescension, I pull my hand back from Zev. The warmth leaves my face, replaced by a cold prickle of embarrassment. Of course. I assume he still deeply hates me for last night's stunt and is just looking for a reason to insult me. My job isn't frivolous, but fighting with him won't fix my reputation.

Taking a deep breath, I decide to backtrack and salvage my remaining dignity. I shift the tangled leashes of my cowering client dogs to my left hand and step forward.

"Right. I apologize," I say, keeping my tone polite. I formally introduce myself, holding my right hand out. "I'm Elara."

He stares at my extended hand for a long, calculating moment. His eyes trace the lines of my palm, his jaw ticking, before snapping back up to my face. Finally, he reaches out and takes it.

His grip is firm, unflinching. The skin of his broad palm is surprisingly warm, a stark contrast to his freezing demeanor. A strange jolt of energy shoots up my arm at the contact.

"Draken," he replies, his deep voice vibrating in the quiet morning air. His eyes never leave mine. "Draken Valkar."

The physical contact lasts just a second too long. I can feel the rough calluses on his fingers, a detail that doesn't quite match his pristine, wealthy appearance. I clear my throat, pulling my hand away and desperately trying to break the strange magnetic pull of his gaze. I glance down and notice my own pack of client dogs still cowering in the grass. The golden retriever and the two terriers are trembling away from Zev’s imposing presence, practically tying my legs together with their leashes.

I decide it's best to cut my losses before my pack loses their minds entirely.

"Well, it was nice to officially meet you, Mr. Valkar," I say, awkwardly excusing myself. "I need to get on with my day and finish my route."

"Likewise," Draken states neutrally. He is already turning away, his rigid posture returning.

I step back to gather my leashes and prompt my pack forward. But Zev suddenly lunges.

A small yelp escapes my lips. Instead of attacking, the giant dog gently but firmly grabs the fabric of my sweatpants with his sharp teeth. He bites down just enough to catch the material, anchoring his heavy body to the ground to keep me from leaving. He tugs back, planting his massive paws firmly in the dirt.

Draken spins around at the sound. We exchange surprised, utterly baffled glances. He stares at his dog, then at my trapped leg, his jaw dropping in disbelief.

We are trapped in a ridiculous, silent standoff in the middle of the park. My dogs are whimpering, Draken is frozen in shock, and this massive beast refuses to release my ankle.

"Ah, guess he really likes my pants," I say nervously, letting out a breathless laugh.

Draken just stares, seemingly devoid of words, unable to comprehend his vicious guard dog acting like a needy puppy.

I sigh and finally kneel down on the damp grass. I stroke the side of Zev's massive face, softly coaxing the giant sweetheart. "Come on, buddy. You have to let go. Open up." I gently pry at the black fabric. With a soft, reluctant whine, Zev opens his jaws and lets my pants go.

I stand back up, dusting off my knee. As I turn to leave for the second time, Draken's deep voice halts me yet again.

"Wait."

I pause, looking over my shoulder.

"I…" Draken frowns, his sharp features twisting in internal conflict. "It is… rare to find someone Zev accepts."

He admits it begrudgingly. The words sound as if they are being physically dragged out of his chest against his will. He looks as though he immediately regrets speaking them, his jaw clenching tight. "What is your contact information?"

I blink, stunned. Thrilled that he is actually giving me a chance and overlooking my bar behavior, I quickly dig into my jacket pocket. I pull out my dog-walking business card and hand it over.

As he takes it, our fingers brush once more. A sudden heat rushes to my cheeks under his scrutinizing, intense gray eyes. The air between us sparks, thick with an undeniable, heavy tension. He stares down at my flushed face, his gaze cataloging every detail.

Then, he quickly snatches the card away, as if my touch burned him. He awkwardly clears his throat, stuffing the small piece of cardstock into his pocket.

"Don't worry about it," he mutters, looking away toward the trees. "Keeping it is just a precaution."

Without another word, he barks a sharp order for Zev to heel. The husky gives me one last longing look before bounding to his owner's side. Draken marches off down the paved path, offering only a dismissive, rigid wave goodbye over his broad shoulder.

I stand there for a moment, gripping my leashes, watching his retreating back. I pull on my lines, finally resuming my walk. As I guide my dogs through the park, I replay the miraculous interaction in my head on a loop. I can't believe what just happened. Despite my disastrous first impression last night, he hadn't yelled at me. He hadn't called the cops. He had actually asked for my contact information. He asked for my help.

Later that afternoon, the crisp park air is replaced by the humid warmth of my small apartment. I step out of a long, hot shower, the steam rolling off my shoulders, washing away the sweat and lingering scent of dog fur from my morning route. I wrap a towel around my hair and pull on fresh clothes, trying to ground myself in reality.

I sit down at my cramped computer desk, determined to push the strange, intimidating billionaire out of my mind. I need to focus on my actual life. I reach for my mouse and pull up my overflowing email inbox, ready to tackle the endless stream of mundane client messages and spam.

Instantly, a bold, unread email at the very top of my screen catches my eye.

My breath catches. The sender's address belongs to a massive, highly prestigious pet advertising company. I had applied for a corporate position with them ages ago, throwing my resume into the void with zero expectations. I thought they had thrown my application in the trash months ago.

I hover my mouse over the subject line. My hand shakes slightly as I click it open.

My eyes scan the crisp, professional text. My heart skips a violent beat, hammering frantically against my ribs.

They aren't rejecting me. They suddenly want to bring me in for a formal interview!