Christina’s POV
"You’re not seriously thinking about buying Fabrizio’s company, are you?" I stared at Hudson, trying not to laugh.
"It makes sense," he said, completely serious. "If I moved headquarters to Highrise City, you wouldn’t need to travel."
I didn’t know whether to laugh or glare at him. "Hudson, that’s not how business works."
He didn’t seem fazed, his face as calm as ever.
"Look, if everything goes well, I’ll be back in a week," I said. "I don’t need a babysitter. This is my career. I don’t show up at your office telling you how to run The Sabreridge pack, do I?"
His eyes narrowed. "You could. You don’t need permission to co to my office. You’re my mate."
"Fiancée," I corrected automatically. "Not officially your Luna yet."
"We’re legally married," he reminded . "Those marriage certificates are real."
"Right." I stopped walking. "Wait, if that’s true, why are we still having the ceremony?"
"Because it’s tradition. A way to officially introduce you as my Luna to all the packs."
"I thought the social dia announcent covered that," I muttered.
Hudson turned to face , his tall fra blocking the harsh airport lights. "Are you getting cold feet about the ceremony, Christina?"
"No," I said quickly. "My feet are perfectly fine." I took his arm. "Co on, I’m already running late."
We reached security, and I stood on my toes to kiss his cheek. "I know you have etings. You should go. I’ll be fine."
As I walked away, I could feel him watching .
The gate was almost done boarding when I finally got through security.
Just as I was about to put my phone on airplane mode, a headline caught my eye.
More drama with The Frostpelt Pack.
The boardroom ss had been all over the news lately: inheritance fights, family drama, rumors of power struggles.
Apparently, Clive Granger had been sick since last winter.
His health had gotten worse fast, and now he was scrambling to hand over control of the company.
The shocking part? He wasn’t giving leadership to Niall, his oldest child and only son. Actually, that last part turned out to be wrong. Daniel was actually Clive’s illegitimate son.
Reports said Clive planned to give thirty percent of the company to Daniel.
And Daniel had moved fast. Within weeks, he’d pushed Niall out of managent, making huge profits from a new pharmaceutical project.
I skimd the article and closed it.
If Daniel and Niall were busy destroying each other, they’d have less ti to ss with my life.
Perfect.
Hours later, Paris greeted with gray skies and the thick sll of gas fus and wet pavent.
Fabrizio Marchetti t at arrivals, dressed perfectly as always: expensive suit, perfect tie, every hair in place.
He took my luggage without asking and led to a sleek black car waiting outside.
"I’ve found you a place to stay," he said smoothly as we drove through the city. "You ntioned you don’t like hotels."
The house was gorgeous: two stories, listone walls, dark green shutters, surrounded by tall hedges.
Inside was peaceful. Just one housekeeper, with the fresh sll of lemon cleaner and baked bread in the air.
The living room was stunning: polished hardwood floors, black fixtures, carved wooden beams, and soft throws draped over gray sofas.
I looked at Fabrizio. "You thought of everything. Thanks for setting this up."
"It’s nothing," he said with a smile. "You’re here to work on our new collection. You need a place that helps you be creative."
"I’ll keep working on those sketches I sent. So of the proportions still don’t look right..."
"No work talk today," he said, shaking his head. "Rest first. I’ll take you to the office tomorrow morning."
"Okay."
I video called Hudson and gave him a tour of the house. "Nice place, right?"
Hudson made a noncommittal sound. "Where’s Fabrizio?"
"He just left. He picked up from the airport himself and drove here." I added, "I probably should have asked him to stay for dinner."
"Bad idea."
"I know. He seed busy anyway."
"That’s not what I ant." Hudson’s jaw looked tighter than usual, his eyes darker even through the screen.
Akira stirred inside . "Your mate is jealous," she whispered. "His wolf is probably going crazy right now."
"I know exactly what you ant," I told Hudson, making a face at my jealous fiancé. "But you’d be crazy to think he’s interested in that way. He’s rich, good-looking, single, with that French accent that makes won lt. He could have anyone. Why would he go after an engaged woman?"
"He’s a man. I’m a man. I know how guys like him think," Hudson said quietly. "He didn’t need to pick you up himself. He’s the CEO. He has drivers."
"He’s just being nice. I’m new to Paris."
"If I had a new employee visiting for work, I’d send a car service."
"Fine, you win." I gave up, knowing this fight was pointless. "How about this? If he tries anything weird, I promise I’ll hit him with sothing heavy."
"Good. Hit hard enough to knock him out. Don’t worry about the hospital bill."
I rolled my eyes. Had going from fake marriage to real engagent made him this insecure?
I changed the subject while Hudson kept trying to bring it back. I distracted him with questions about his day and quickly ended the call when he asked for sothing that would get kicked off family-friendly websites.
The next morning, I made a quick breakfast and went downstairs.
Fabrizio was already outside, leaning against another shiny black car.
I got in the passenger seat.
"Morning," I said. "I looked up directions yesterday. I could have gotten there myself. You didn’t need to go out of your way."
"My place is on the way," Fabrizio said, smoothly joining the Paris traffic.
I checked my phone and found tons of texts from Hudson.
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