Chapter 4 The party

The party

He vanished into the crowd but kept his gaze locked on her. She moved through the room, drink in hand, when suddenly the music cut out.

"It's auction time. Top three bachelors, come on up."

They stepped onto the stage. Bachelor number one picked Jane Neel's letter. She lit up, and the room erupted in applause. He made his way down to her.

Bachelor number two chose Flora Jonson's letter, and he headed her way.

Then it was bachelor number three, the guy from the elevator. He picked Dahlia Fin's letter. Everyone turned to her, and she froze as he approached.

She just stared at him while he thought she looked stunning. The music kicked back in, and he held out his hand. Dahlia took it, and his hand slid to her back.

Red suited her.

Her hair was mostly pinned up, but a few strands framed her face, exposing her neck. He leaned in closer. "Tell me if this is too much."

She pulled back slightly, studying him, the stubble, the dark hair, those piercing blue gray eyes. Dahlia smiled. "I think I need a drink. I've never been to a..."

"Party?" he finished for her.

"Yeah," she laughed nervously. "So, where are we going this weekend? I didn't exactly read the whole email," she whispered.

He chuckled, his dimple showing. "A cabin in the mountains. I really liked your letter, by the way."

"Thanks," she said. "They're coming too, right?"

"Of course," he replied.

She stiffened, then forced a smile. "Okay."

"Let's grab a drink and loosen up a bit, yeah?" he suggested.

They headed to the bar, grabbed drinks, and found a quiet table. He couldn't stop staring at her-who was she? He'd seen her in the elevator, fighting with that sleazy lawyer.

"Why'd you pick my letter, Mr...?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"Hunter. Just Hunter. And I thought you seemed...genuine."

"Disappointed?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Not even close. I've seen you in the elevator a bunch of times, never dressed like this, though."

She shrugged. "I like to be comfortable. Our director doesn't enforce a dress code."

He laughed. "Honestly, we should all be like that more often. Suits are the worst."

She smiled, taking a sip of her drink. "Hunter," she paused, her tone serious now. "Just so we're clear, I'm not that kind of girl. So, if you're expecting... this week away, we can skip it."

He leaned back, smiling "Relax, Dahlia. I'll be a gentleman. But you've got to hold up your end of the deal."

"And what's that?"

"Everything in that letter. No backing out."

Her face lit up. "You mean it?"

"Yeah, I mean it," he said, grinning.

"Hunter, you don't exactly strike me as the type to..."

"Be normal?" he interrupted.

"I was going to say, 'be down for this.' You seem...polished. City guy, higher class."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do I really come off like that?"

She nodded and downed the rest of her drink.

"You might want to pace yourself," he warned. "Or you'll regret it tomorrow."

She smirked. "Is that a problem?" She waved the bartender over for another.

Hunter leaned in, curious. "So, Dahlia, tell me something about yourself."

She shrugged. "Finished marketing. I like designing stuff, but it's just a hobby. I live with two guys, best couple you'll ever meet. What about you?"

"I live alone. Family's not super close. I work a lot and...well..."

"Party?" she finished for him.

"Sometimes," he admitted with a laugh.

She stood abruptly, swaying slightly. "I need air." He caught her by the waist before she tipped over.

They made their way to the balcony overlooking the city. "Much better," she said, leaning on the railing. "I'm buzzed. Not going to lie."

A waiter appeared with shots. She grabbed one, pointed at him, and he followed suit. "You're cold," he noticed, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over her shoulders.

They talked for a while, then drifted back inside to dance. More drinks flowed. Her phone buzzed relentlessly while she was in the bathroom. He picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Who's this?" a man's voice snapped.

"Her date. Hunter. I chose her letter."

"Listen carefully," the man growled. "If anything happens to her, I'll make sure you regret it."

"Got it," Hunter replied evenly. "She's safe with me. I'll get her home."

"Good. Thank you, Hunter. Good night."

"Good night." He set the phone down just as she returned.

"Your dad called," he said. "Told him I'd take you home."

"Already?" She pouted.

"Not yet. Whenever you're ready."

"Okay." She pulled out the pin holding her hair up, letting it fall loose. That scent of hers hit him again.

She grabbed his hand and dragged him back to the dance floor. He laughed. It took her five drinks to finally loosen up.

He held her close, her head resting against his chest. She listened to his heartbeat for a moment before murmuring, "Hunter, I'm ready to go home now."

"Alright, let's grab our coats." She was still tipsy, leaning on him in the elevator. He kept her steady, one arm around her waist.

The driver opened the door, and she slumped against Hunter's shoulder. "I'm so tired," she mumbled.

"Hunter... thanks for tonight."

"You're welcome," he said, but she was already out cold. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering for a moment. The car pulled up to her apartment, and he waited, watching her breathe. Inhaled her scent as he closed his eyes.

"Hey," he said softly, touching her cheek. "You're home."

Her eyes blinked open, hazy but focused. She reached for the door, but he caught her hand. "See you tomorrow morning," he said, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

"Good night, Hunter," she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

"Good night, Dahlia," he replied, letting her go.

He stepped into his apartment, grabbed a water bottle, and leaned against the window, staring out at the city lights. She's oblivious, what pack is she belong to, he thought, a small grin tugging at his lips as he replayed the night in his head. The scent unmistakably of his mate. Had no doubt.