Chapter 38: Going to the Hotel with Adrian

Chapter 38: Chapter 38: Going to the Hotel with Adrian

The car pulled to a smooth stop in front of the company building, a towering glass behemoth that screamed "we have money and we’re not afraid to use it." Jonathan barely waited for Azura to step out before he zoomed off toward the parking lot, probably eager to escape his sister’s chaotic energy.

Azura stood alone on the sidewalk, spinning in a slow circle as she took in the building.

So this was Quinn Enterprise.

She had absolutely no idea if this company belonged to the pack and was just managed by Adrian’s family, or if it was actually their family’s private property. But honestly? She didn’t care enough to ask.

Corporate structures were a mystery to her. In her past life, she’d been a freelance artist—the closest she’d ever gotten to "corporate" was when she had to email a client about payment. Even the only business roles she knew were the ones from romance novels: CEO, secretary, and the mysterious janitor who was secretly the heir to a trillion-dollar empire.

That was the extent of her business knowledge.

Anything beyond that? Absolutely not. If someone started talking about stocks, quarterly earnings, or—Moon forbid—spreadsheets, her brain would simply shut down and restart like an outdated Windows 95 computer.

So instead of worrying about corporate structures, she focused on what truly mattered.

Her phone.

The "Hot Alphas" group chat.

She scrolled furiously, scanning every new message like a secret agent monitoring enemy communications.

Fortunately, the stalkers—bless their unhinged, dedicated hearts—were still reporting from the field.

HotAlphaStalker#7: [UPDATE: No movement from the Blackwood suite. The curtains are still closed. I repeat. CURTAINS. STILL. CLOSED. Awaiting further instructions.]

AlphaGroupie88: [I’m in position behind a potted plant in the lobby. So far, I’ve seen three businessmen, one confused tourist, and a dog in a tiny sweater. No alphas yet.]

WolfMommy6969: [I repeat my question from earlier: @LunaInTraining, did you find the bush?]

LunaInTraining: [The bush is secured. I am one with the bush. The bush is me.]

WolfMommy6969: [Stay strong, sister. We need those jawline pics.]

Azura let out a breath of relief.

Good.

The male leads were still at the hotel.

She still had time.

But time was ticking, and Jonathan was taking forever.

She started pacing back and forth on the sidewalk like a caffeinated penguin, her heels clicking an anxious rhythm against the pavement.

She had to get there before they left.

She had to.

Should I just leave now? Text Jonathan later? Say, "Hey bro, I know you just drove me here, but I have URGENT BUSINESS elsewhere, bye"?

Unfortunately, she couldn’t use a mind link to tell him she was leaving.

Why?

Because she couldn’t initiate one, that’s why!

She could respond to mind links, sure, but initiating one? That required skills she simply did not possess.

What if she tried to mind link Jonathan and accidentally connected to a random werewolf who was currently giving birth? Or fighting for their life? Or—worst case scenario—in the middle of a very intimate moment with their partner?

’Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your... uh... cardio. Anyway, do you know where my brother is? No? Okay, bye!’

She shuddered.

Yeah, no.

She’d rather just text him like a normal person.

Azura was just about to step off the curb and flag down a taxi—her arm raised, her mouth open to shout—when a sleek black car pulled up in front of her, blocking her path.

The door opened.

And out stepped a man so handsome that even the sun seemed to angle itself to hit his jawline at the perfect dramatic lighting.

Adrian Quinn.

The real Adrian.

Not his father.

Azura’s eyes trailed over him.

The sharp suit.

The confident posture.

The shoulders.

God, those shoulders.

She turned to look at his back as he shut the car door, and her soul left her body for the second time that day.

Damn it.

His back was even broader and more solid than his father’s. How the hell had she mixed them up?! That was a rookie mistake.

She was an idiot.

A complete and utter idiot.

And now she had to face the consequences of dumping his father instead of him.

Azura was so deep in her spiral of self-loathing—’I’m an idiot, I’m an idiot, I mixed up the father and son, I deserve to be exiled to the moon’—that she almost didn’t notice Adrian staring at her.

But she did notice.

Because when a man that handsome stares at you, it’s kind of hard to miss.

Adrian’s hand lifted slowly, his fingers hovering near her cheek, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off his skin.

And then he stopped.

His hand hung in the air like a broken elevator, suspended between desire and guilt. A flicker of pain crossed his features. His jaw tightened. And with visible reluctance, he lowered his hand, letting it fall limply to his side.

He didn’t deserve to touch her.

Not after what happened.

"Azura." His voice was low, serious. "We need to talk."

Azura snapped out of her internal roasting session and looked up at him.

Oh.

Adrian wanted to talk.

And she needed to get to that hotel.

A lightbulb flickered to life above her head—not metaphorically, she was pretty sure an actual cartoon lightbulb materialized and dinged above her cranium.

She grabbed his arm with both hands, her eyes sparkling with manic enthusiasm.

"You’re absolutely right! We do need to talk! But we can’t do it here, in front of your company, where anyone could see us! We need PRIVACY, Adrian. We need a neutral location. Somewhere... romantic. Somewhere we can have a deep, meaningful conversation while also enjoying dessert. We need to go to the Grand Meridian Hotel!"

Adrian blinked. "The... Grand Meridian?"

"Yes! I’ve heard they have the most divine cakes there! Cakes so good they’ll make you forget all your problems! We can have a deep, meaningful conversation while simultaneously stuffing our faces with sponge cake and buttercream! It’s the perfect plan!"

Adrian stared at her like she’d just suggested they communicate exclusively through interpretive dance.

"...Cakes?"

"Cakes!"

Azura confirmed, nodding so vigorously her hair whipped around like a helicopter rotor.

"And it’s very close," she added quickly, pointing vaguely in the random direction. "Only seven minutes by car. Seven minutes! That’s practically next door! We could walk there if we were feeling adventurous!"

She had, of course, checked the distance between Quinn Enterprise and the hotel before they even entered the city.

Seven minutes by car.

It was practically destiny.

And the cake? She had absolutely no idea if the Grand Meridian even had cake. For all she knew, they only sold cheese plates and sadness.

But that didn’t matter!

What mattered was getting there!

Adrian furrowed his brow, glancing at his watch with the pained expression of a man who had approximately fourteen meetings, three conference calls, and a paperwork avalanche waiting for him inside.

"But I have work right now—"

"You’re the BOSS!" Azura threw her arms wide, gesturing at the towering building behind them. "You can take a break! That’s literally one of the perks of being the alpha CEO! Let my brother and Vincent suffer through the paperwork for a few hours! That’s what subordinates are for! Jonathan can handle your work! Vincent can handle your work! The janitor can handle your work! The potted plant in the lobby can handle your work!"

She was already walking toward his car, gesturing for him to follow.

"Come on, come on, come on! Time is money! And cake is life! Let’s GO!"

Adrian stood there, looking like he was seriously reconsidering every life choice that had led him to this moment.

Meanwhile, in the parking lot:

Jonathan sneezed violently, nearly dropping his car keys.

"...Someone’s talking about me."

He had no idea how right he was.

And in the car, Vincent—who had been listening to the entire conversation through the open window—finally let out a long, suffering sigh.

Before Adrian could protest further, the back door of the car opened. Vincent stepped out, his expression a mixture of resignation and quiet martyrdom, like a soldier volunteering for a suicide mission.

He looked at Adrian. Then at Azura. Then back at Adrian.

He sighed again, the weight of a thousand spreadsheets pressing down on his shoulders.

"She’s right, Alpha. Go with her." Vincent’s voice carried the resigned tone of a man who had already accepted his fate. "Jonathan and I will suffer. We will drown in paperwork. We will die under mountains of spreadsheets and meeting requests. But at least you will have cake."

He paused, his soul leaving his body through his eyes.

"...Make sure it’s worth our sacrifice."

Adrian looked between Vincent’s defeated expression and Azura’s glowing, hopeful face.

"...Fine."

He surrendered.

"The Grand Meridian Hotel, then."

Azura beamed so brightly she could have powered a small city. But before she dove into the car, she spun around and pointed at Vincent like a commander sending a soldier into battle.

"Tell my brother where I went! I don’t want him thinking I got kidnapped or joined a cult or something!"

Vincent gave a lazy salute. "I’ll make sure he knows he’s been replaced by a cake."

Satisfied, Azura slid into the car with the grace of a woman who had just successfully executed a heist. Adrian followed, settling beside her with the energy of a man who had just signed a contract he hadn’t fully read.

Vincent gave Adrian a long, meaningful look—the kind of look that said, ’You owe me your firstborn child for this’—and Adrian could only give a small, grateful nod in return.

The car door shut.

The engine hummed to life.

And they were off.

For the first few minutes of the drive, Adrian sat in contemplative silence. His mind was still tangled with guilt and confusion from earlier, which was probably why his usually razor-sharp senses had been dulled.

But now, sitting in the quiet car, the haze cleared.

And he noticed. Something was wrong.

Azura was... scentless.

And her wolf, Cora—her presence was dim. Faint. Like a candle burning on its last wick.

Adrian’s eyes widened. His head snapped toward Azura.

"Azura, why is your wolf—"

Azura’s finger pressed gently against his lips.

"Ssh."

She looked at him with the intense, dramatic gaze of a heroine in a romance novel—the kind where the female lead silences the male lead with a single finger and says something mysterious and alluring.

"We’ll talk about it when we arrive."

Adrian’s eyebrows furrowed. But he said nothing.

And inside Azura’s head, a party was happening. Fireworks exploded. Confetti rained down.

YES!

She was going to the hotel!

She was going to find the male leads!

Her mission was simple: stalk the Blackwood triplets and their uncle, and if they so much as LOOKED like they were about to leave for the Crimson Crest Pack, she would throw herself in front of their car, fake a pregnancy, start a fire, or whatever it took to keep them away from Selena!

The plan was foolproof!

Absolutely, completely, totally foolproof!

What could possibly go wrong?