"Are you absolutely insane?" I whispered, clutching my phone with trembling fingers as I reread Adrian's text for the hundredth time. "I can't just waltz into his office and ask for five million dollars!"
Chloe paced around my tiny apartment bedroom, practically vibrating with excitement. "Why not? The man gave you his shirt and then texted you to bring it back. That's code for 'I want to see you again.'"
I collapsed onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. "Or maybe he just wants his expensive shirt back."
"Then he would have sent an assistant." She plopped down beside me. "Sera, listen to me. Adrian Valois is the most powerful Lycan in the world. He could solve your problems with a snap of his fingers."
"And what exactly am I supposed to offer in return?" My voice cracked. "My body?"
Chloe's expression softened. "I'm not saying sleep with him for money. I'm saying use this opportunity to talk to him. Explain your situation. Maybe he can offer your dad a job or loan you the money."
"Why would he help me?" I asked, doubt clouding my thoughts. "I'm nobody to him."
"Because he wanted you." Chloe squeezed my hand. "I saw your face when you mentioned him. Something happened between you two."
Heat crept up my neck as I remembered his lips on mine, his hands gripping my waist. "It was just a kiss."
"A kiss from Adrian Valois is worth something," she insisted. "At least try. What's the worst that could happen?"
"He could laugh in my face. Or tell Julian. Or tell his daughter." I buried my face in my hands. "God, his daughter is marrying my ex. This is so messed up."
Chloe was quiet for a moment. "Do you have a better plan?"
I didn't. That was the problem. After spending all night researching options, I knew there was no legitimate way to come up with five million dollars. Not in time to help my father.
"No," I admitted.
"Then it's settled." Chloe stood and walked to my closet, throwing it open. "Let's find you something that says 'please help me' but also 'I'm worth every penny.'"
I groaned but followed her to the closet. As she rifled through my meager wardrobe, a terrible idea began forming in my mind. An idea so desperate, so reckless, that I could hardly believe I was considering it.
But what choice did I have?
---
The next day, I stood outside the towering Adrian Valois Corporation building in downtown Royal City. My heart hammered against my ribs as I clutched my purse, which contained his neatly folded shirt.
And underneath my trench coat? Nothing but a red lace lingerie set that had cost me three shifts' worth of waitressing tips.
"This is insane," I muttered to myself, earning a strange look from a passing businessman. "I can't do this."
But the image of my father in a cell, his proud shoulders slumped in defeat, steeled my resolve. I'd already lost my dignity when Julian rejected me publicly. What was a little more humiliation if it meant saving my family?
Taking a deep breath, I pushed through the revolving doors into the gleaming lobby. Everything about the place screamed money and power—from the marble floors to the massive crystal chandelier hanging overhead. Men and women in impeccable suits strode purposefully across the atrium, all looking like they belonged.
Unlike me.
I approached the reception desk, where a perfectly coiffed blonde woman sat typing on a sleek computer. She didn't look up as I approached.
"Excuse me," I said, my voice embarrassingly small. "I have an appointment with Mr. Valois."
The woman looked up, her gaze immediately assessing and dismissing me. "Your name?"
"Seraphina Beaumont."
She tapped at her keyboard, perfectly manicured nails clicking against the keys. "I don't see you in the system."
"He texted me yesterday," I explained, fumbling for my phone. "He asked me to return something."
The receptionist's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "You're returning something to Mr. Valois?"
My cheeks burned. "Yes."
"Let me guess." She leaned forward, lowering her voice to a theatrical whisper. "He gave you an item of clothing, and now you've come to return it, hoping for a few minutes of his time?"
I stared at her, mortified. "How did you—"
"Honey." Her smile was pure condescension. "You're the third girl this month with that exact story. Mr. Valois has a habit of leaving things with... entertainment. It doesn't mean you have an appointment."
My stomach dropped to my feet. Of course. I was just another conquest, another story for his staff to snicker about.
"I can take the item," she continued, holding out her hand. "I'll make sure he gets it."
I clutched my purse tighter, humiliation washing over me in waves. "No, he specifically asked me to bring it to him."
"I'm sure he did." She sighed dramatically. "But Mr. Valois is an extremely busy man who doesn't have time for... follow-ups. Now, I can take the item, or you can leave."
People were starting to look our way. My cheeks burned hotter, and tears pricked at my eyes. This had been a mistake. A horrible, desperate mistake.
"Fine," I whispered, reaching into my purse for the shirt.
"And what gives you the right to turn away those who come to see me?"
The deep voice boomed from behind me, causing both the receptionist and me to jump. I froze, shirt half pulled from my purse, too afraid to turn around.
But I didn't need to see him to know who it was. Adrian Valois had arrived, and from the dangerous edge in his voice, he was not happy.
The receptionist's face drained of color. "Mr. Valois! I was just explaining to this young woman that—"
"That what?" he interrupted, his voice closer now. "That you've taken it upon yourself to decide who gets access to me?"
I finally gathered the courage to turn around. And there he stood, even more imposing than I remembered. In the hotel suite, he'd been dressed casually. Now, in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, he looked every bit the powerful Alpha and business tycoon that he was.
His eyes, those piercing blue eyes, found mine, and for a moment, something flashed in them. Recognition. Interest. And something darker that made my pulse quicken.
"Miss Beaumont," he said, my name rolling off his tongue like he was tasting it. "I believe we had an appointment."
The receptionist spluttered. "Sir, she wasn't in the system—"
"Because I don't put my personal appointments in the company calendar, Nancy." His gaze never left mine. "A concept you might want to familiarize yourself with."
"Yes, sir. I apologize, sir." The woman's voice had gone high and tight with fear.
Adrian extended his hand to me. "Shall we?"
I stared at his outstretched hand, suddenly very aware of what I was—and wasn't—wearing under my coat. This was my chance to back out, to thank him for the shirt and run far away from this crazy plan.
Instead, I placed my trembling hand in his.
His fingers closed around mine, warm and secure, and a jolt of electricity shot up my arm. Without another word, he led me toward the private elevator bank at the far end of the lobby, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back.
Every step we took felt like walking toward a cliff's edge. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it. The weight of his hand burned through my coat, reminding me of the scandalous outfit beneath it.
As we reached the elevator, he pressed his thumb to a biometric scanner. The doors slid open silently, revealing a plush interior with mirrors on three walls.
"After you," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through me.
I stepped inside, and he followed, pressing the button for the top floor. The doors closed, sealing us in the small space together.
"Thank you," I managed to say, my voice barely audible. "For intervening."
"Nancy will be looking for a new position tomorrow." His reflection in the mirrored wall showed no emotion. "That's not the first time she's turned away someone without consulting me."
I swallowed hard. "I don't want anyone to lose their job because of me."
"Actions have consequences." He turned to face me directly. "Speaking of which, I'm curious what brings you here, Seraphina."
The way he said my full name sent a shiver down my spine. In the confines of the elevator, his scent—crisp mint and something uniquely masculine—surrounded me, making it hard to think clearly.
"Your shirt," I said, fumbling with my purse. "I came to return it."
"You could have mailed it." His eyes never left mine. "Yet you chose to deliver it personally."
The elevator continued its smooth ascent, floor numbers silently ticking by. We were only halfway to the top, but it already felt like we'd been in this small space together for an eternity.
"I..." My prepared speech vanished from my mind. How could I possibly proposition this man for money? The absurdity of my plan hit me full force.
"You're trembling," he observed, his voice softer now. "Are you afraid of me, Seraphina?"
Was I? Yes, but not in the way he meant. I was afraid of the way he made me feel, afraid of my own desperation, afraid of what I'd come here to do.
"No," I lied.
A small smile curved his lips. "Liar."
The elevator dinged, announcing our arrival at the top floor. The doors slid open to reveal an expansive reception area decorated in sleek, modern furnishings.
Adrian placed his hand on the small of my back again, guiding me forward. "My office is this way."
As we walked, his assistant—a severe-looking woman in her fifties—stood from her desk. "Mr. Valois, your three o'clock with the Japanese investors—"
"Reschedule it," he said without breaking stride. "Miss Beaumont and I have important matters to discuss."
The woman's eyebrows rose slightly as she took in my appearance, but she merely nodded. "Of course, sir."
We reached a set of imposing double doors. Adrian pushed them open, revealing an office larger than my entire apartment. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of Royal City, and a massive desk of polished wood dominated one end of the room.
He closed the doors behind us with a soft click that sounded like a jail cell locking.
"Now," he said, turning to face me. "Why don't you tell me why you're really here?"