Christina’s POV
Hudson: [Morning.]
Hudson: [Had breakfast yet? Don’t be late for work on your first day.]
Hudson: [I’ve got connections in the city. Let know if you need anything—bodyguard, driver, assistant, whatever.]
Hudson: [The Sabreridge pack doesn’t have a hotel in Paris. If you’d rather not stay at Fabrizio’s place, check into Le urice. There’s a suite under my na, all yours.]
I sent a quick reply: [Just heading to work now.]
As Fabrizio took a sharp turn, I snapped a photo of the Parisian street outside and sent it to Hudson.
He responded imdiately.
Hudson: [Nice view out there.]
Hudson: [That window’s tinted. Looks custom. That’s not a taxi. Whose car are you in?]
: [Fabrizio’s. He’s giving a ride to Valmont’s headquarters.]
Hudson: [Stay away from him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
The dozen exclamation marks made my eye twitch.
: [He’s just giving a ride. Relax.]
Hudson: [If he were just a colleague, he wouldn’t be driving you around.]
: [He said it was on his way. Chill.]
The car stopped at a red light.
Fabrizio glanced at .
"Who’s got you smiling at your phone?"
I touched my face, surprised to realize I’d been grinning.
"I was texting Hudson. He’s not exactly happy about coming to France alone."
"Ah." Fabrizio smirked. "You and Alpha Hudson seem close. When we t in Highrise City, you weren’t anything like the gossip online made you out to be."
I shrugged. "People talk garbage. I just ignore it."
The traffic light turned green, but we imdiately slowed again at the next light. If Paris traffic kept up like this, I could have walked faster.
"I’ve worked non-stop since I was twenty," Fabrizio said suddenly. "Now I’m thirty-six and I’ve never had a serious relationship. Seeing you and Hudson together makes wonder what I gave up."
I glanced over.
Where had this sudden confession co from?
He noticed my surprise and laughed bitterly. "It wasn’t easy, building all this. I put everything into work. Maybe if this launch goes well, I’ll finally catch a break."
"It’ll go well," I said, hoping my voice sounded confident.
He smiled. "With your help, I’m sure of it."
"You flatter ."
"It’s not flattery, it’s true. I’ve seen your entries for The Aureate Awards."
I flinched.
That competition was a double-edged sword—it brought fa and more orders than I could handle, but also endless controversy.
I still didn’t know who’d paid Dr. DuBois to try and sabotage .
"Your designs are truly unique and morable," Fabrizio continued. "Your studio might be the new kid on the block, but you’re making waves. I wondered if we could team up."
"Team up how?" I focused.
"You’ve got talent. I’ve got experience and reach. If we combined them, this new line could own the market."
"By ’combine’, do you an...?"
"A partnership. Both of us with a stake."
That got my attention.
Akira stirred. "This could be huge for us."
I’d boarded a plane expecting freelance work, maybe a one-ti project—not to be discussing ownership and a proper joint company.
"I’ll need to think about it," I said slowly.
He shrugged like he wasn’t bothered. "Take your ti. Just an idea."
Through the rear-view mirror, I caught his perfect smile.
If he hadn’t just told his age, I’d never have guessed he was thirty-six.
"We’re here," he announced.
The car pulled into a private lot outside Valmont & Cie’s headquarters.
I stepped out and gawked like a tourist.
Pale stone, clean lines, the whole building towering so high it made my neck ache just to look up.
"Wow," I muttered.
I’d seen plenty of glossy magazines, looked at the professional photos. Only standing right under it did I finally understand.
My first day at Valmont & Cie flew by so fast, I barely noticed the ti.
After dinner with new colleagues, one of those fun three-hour als, I tried to wave Fabrizio off, but he insisted on driving back to the house.
He was the perfect gentleman—effortlessly charming, perfectly dressed, talking about five different topics before dessert.
When I ntioned this to Ysolde over video call, she rolled her eyes.
"Watch your back when he turns up the charm," she said flatly.
"What does that an?" I asked.
"Don’t forget, four traits of the classic Frenchman: well-dressed, smooth-talker, sharp business sense, and... expert seducer."
"Please. Did Hudson put you up to that? When did you two get so friendly?"
"He didn’t. And we haven’t. But werewolf instincts are the sa, yeah?"
Right on cue, Hudson’s video call popped up on my screen.
"Speak of the devil. The other protective wolf’s calling. Night."
Ysolde hung up.
I leaned against the headboard, towel-dried hair falling around my shoulders.
Hudson was in his study, jacket thrown on the chair, tie loose, sleeves rolled up.
"It’s past midnight over there," I said. "Shouldn’t you be asleep?"
"I was waiting for you. How was dinner?"
"Good. Very French, very long." I almost told him about Fabrizio’s suggestion.
In the end, I kept quiet. Hudson already hated this trip. If I ntioned a months-long partnership, he’d be on the next flight imdiately, probably with half the pack warriors following him.
"Move the cara closer. Let actually see you."
I held the phone so close all he’d see were my pores.
"How was your first day?" he asked.
"Amazing. The company’s huge, and they have the best coffee machine I’ve ever used. They even gave a private office."
"Is that all?"
"That’s it." I knew what he was looking for, but refused to give him any ammunition. "They’ve been incredibly welcoming. I asked for an extra monitor and one of their IT guys showed up before I finished the sentence. Honestly, it’s the kind of setup I could really get used to."
He leaned in, suspicious. "That sounds dangerously like you’re planning to stay."
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