Chapter 118

Grayson’s POV

“I’ll take it from here,” I said curtly, ending the call. My phone buzzed almost immediately.

I picked it up with a sigh. “What now, Rickon?”

“You didn’t say thank you for getting the man who will lead you to the person after your company,” Rickon said, his voice dripping with smugness.

If looks could kill, my glare would have done the job. I hung up without responding, ignoring the urge to throw the phone across the room.

The sound of the door opening drew my attention. Ava stepped in, wrapped in a towel. Her damp hair clung to her shoulders, water droplets trailing down her flushed skin. My wolf stirred, and I felt its ripple, but I kept my expression neutral.

Her cheeks flushed even deeper as her gaze met mine, and I knew she was thinking about last night—as was I. I hadn’t planned it. Hell, I hadn’t thought it possible for someone like me to let go so completely. But Ava… she made the impossible happen. She always did. Last night had been explosive.

I cleared my throat as she opened her mouth to speak. “We need to talk,” I said.

She hesitated, then sighed, crossing the room to sit on the bed. Her eyes flickered to the mirror, and her blush deepened.

Before I could stop myself, I reached for her, pulling her toward me.

“What… what are you doing?” she asked, her voice a mixture of confusion and nervousness.

I didn’t answer immediately. I guided her until she sat in front of me, her knees brushing mine. My hands moved on their own, gently brushing damp hair from her face.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

Her eyes widened. “I thought you didn’t apologize,” she whispered.

A small smile tugged at my lips. “I guess I make exceptions for you.”

Her expression softened, and she returned the smile. “I’m sorry too. For what I said about your wolf, for going after that man on my own… I just wanted to help. And for lashing out at you when you saved me from jail. But even if he was a bad man, I still—”

“It was self-defense,” I interrupted gently. “I know you’re not a murderer, Ava. We’ll work through this. Together.”

Her shoulders sagged in relief, but the weight of everything still lingered in her eyes. Just like the weight I carried: the mystery of the car attack, the Alpha killings, the curse, Rickon’s gloating, Elaine’s hatred, and the impending war. But maybe, just for now, I could push it all aside. Maybe that’s why I’d brought Ava here, to Paris—to escape.

“You still with me?” Her voice broke through my thoughts. I blinked, realizing I’d zoned out.

“Yeah. Did you say something?”

She tilted her head—the effect was disarming—her eyes shifting, gold flecks shimmering in the blue. “I said we still have things to talk about. Like how we’re always fighting.”

“Well then,” I said, leaning back slightly, “let’s stop fighting.”

Her lips twitched. “And what about the fact that you don’t want kids?”

“I’ll consider the possibility,” I replied.

Her eyebrows shot up. “Really? Just like that?”

“Yes.”

She narrowed her eyes but quickly moved on. “And you can’t just whisk me off to another country without asking.”

“Next time, I’ll ask.”

“Stop being so agreeable,” she huffed, but there was laughter in her voice.

Her laughter was infectious. “I don’t want to fight anymore, Ava. I have enough to deal with. The last thing I need is you leaving me. I want you to stay.”

Her expression softened. “I want to stay too,” she said quietly. Then, grinning, she added, “But maybe we can fight just a little… I’m looking forward to all the makeup sex.”

I laughed, pulling her closer, cupping her face and kissing her softly. She kissed me back, her hands brushing my chest before she pulled away, laughing.

“Not now,” she murmured. “I’m still sore.”

I chuckled. She clapped her hands. “Oh my god,” she said, eyes wide. “We’re in Paris! We have to—”

I cut her off with a smirk. “We’ll see everything. But for now…” I glanced at the clock. “You have three days before work; we’ll fly back after. Maybe we can just spend the day in.”

She smiled, leaning into me. “Okay. But I’m kind of hungry.”

A knock came at the door. “Come in,” I called.

Her eyes widened as the door opened, and she quickly pulled the towel tighter. I smirked, pulling her closer and pulling the duvet over us just as the private chef I’d hired stepped in.

The chef, a tall man with a thick French accent, smiled politely. “Everything is ready, sir.”

Ava’s blush deepened as she greeted him in flawless French.

I nodded. “We’ll be down in a minute.”

He inclined his head and left. The moment the door closed, Ava jabbed me in the ribs.

“Grayson!” she hissed, cheeks redder than ever. “I’m practically naked.”

I grinned as she crawled out from under the duvet to get dressed. My eyes followed her—the curve of her back, the way her hair shimmered—it was mesmerizing.

But as I stood to get dressed, the weight of everything waiting for me returned. The problems, responsibilities, dangers—all shoved aside.

When we finally stepped out, Ava’s eyes widened as she took in the house.

“Grayson,” she breathed, awestruck. “This is beautiful.”

I smiled at her reaction. The house was a masterpiece—floor-to-ceiling windows, elegant French architecture blending with modern touches.

“You’ll get a tour after we eat,” I said, pulling her toward the dining area.

She glanced at me, her smile radiant. “You spoil me, you know that?”

I leaned down, kissing her temple. “Only because you deserve it.”

For the next few hours, the weight lifted. I smiled watching Ava as we ate, and for a fleeting moment, I felt like the world wasn’t trying to crush me. But all good things must end. I just didn’t think it would be this abrupt or devastating.

My phone buzzed, pulling me back to reality. I glanced at the screen, my stomach dropping.

Ava’s voice cut through the silence. “What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t tear my eyes from the message. “We need to fly back. Elaine just tried to kill herself.”