Sunlight slipped through the blinds like a thief, laying gold stripes across the sleek sheets of the penthouse bed. Lauretta Owens stirred, a soft groan leaving her lips as she blinked awake.
For one suspended heartbeat, she didn't know where she was.
Then it came back - the velvet lights, the bourbon burn, the way his eyes had pinned her like she was something rare. Savior Hunt.
She turned, half expecting to find him still there. But the other side of the bed was empty, cool.
No note. No goodbye. Not even the faint sound of running water.
Lauretta smiled to herself, a small, ironic curve of her lips.
Of course. That was how men like him operated - sweep in, scorch the earth, and vanish before sunrise.
Fine by her.
She slipped from the bed, her robe clinging to her shoulders as she crossed to the window. The Manhattan skyline glittered below, morning light turning glass towers into blades of fire.
Her reflection stared back at her - sharp, composed, dangerous.
"You did what you came for," she whispered. "No regrets."
The words were steady, but her heartbeat wasn't.
Some part of her - the wild, wolf part - wanted to chase his scent through the city until she found him again. It annoyed her how much she noticed the lingering trace of him on her skin.
She shook her head. "No. You wanted strength, not sentiment."
And yet... sentiment had teeth.
Stupid sentiments.
"Ahh..." Lauretta touches her waist.
A little sore.
"Oh he went all out..." She smirks and walks out the door.
---
By eight-thirty, Lauretta was in her office - Lune Artistry Inc., a sprawling glass-and-stone building overlooking the river. Her assistant, Jules, greeted her with a nervous smile, clutching a stack of reports.
"Morning, Ms. Owens. You look-uh-rested?"
Lauretta arched a brow. "Rested?"
Jules cleared her throat. "I mean-productive."
"Good save," Lauretta said dryly, taking the papers.
Her office was minimalist but warm - sunlight cutting across modern sculptures and watercolor pieces by up-and-coming artists. Art was her language, her therapy, her empire.
She'd built this company from scratch after returning from studying abroad - and she ruled it like she ruled everything else: precisely.
Except her thoughts weren't focused today.
Every signature, every meeting memo blurred behind flashes of gray eyes and that maddening smile.
At one point, she caught herself doodling the letter S in the margin of a report.
She stared at it, snorted softly, then ripped the page in half.
"Pathetic," she muttered. "You're not that girl."
Can't let a stranger mess with my mind.
---
Her phone buzzed. The screen flashed: Angela.
Lauretta groaned. "Speak of the chaos," she murmured, answering. "Yes, Angie?"
"Don't 'yes, Angie' me," Angela's voice sang through the line, bright and teasing. "You disappeared after work last night. Tell me you didn't go all rogue wolf in the city again."
Lauretta smirked. "Define rogue."
"Oh my God," Angela gasped dramatically. "You did. You totally did. You went out. With that look. Tell me everything."
"There's nothing to tell."
Angela laughed. "Liar. You've got that tone - the 'I did something I'm pretending not to care about but secretly can't stop thinking about' tone."
Lauretta leaned back in her chair, gazing out the window. "You have an overactive imagination."
"Mm-hmm. So, what's his name?"
Lauretta hesitated. "...Savior."
Angela choked. "Savior? Who names their kid that? Is he a preacher or a stripper?"
Lauretta actually laughed, the sound surprising her. "Neither. He's... complicated."
"Complicated as in emotionally unavailable or complicated as in you're already naming your future child?"
Lauretta rolled her eyes. "Angela."
"What? I'm just asking! You've been single for, like, forever. The last guy you liked ran off to Europe to 'find himself,' remember?"
"Unfortunately."
"So, this Savior guy - was he at least worth it?"
Lauretta paused, her expression softening. "Yeah," she said quietly. "He was."
There was a beat of silence. Then Angela's tone shifted - softer now. "You sound... different."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're glowing. I can hear it."
Lauretta smirked. "You're ridiculous."
"Maybe," Angela said. "But I know you. Be careful, Lau. You have a habit of chasing things that burn."
Lauretta looked down at her hands - steady, elegant, but faintly trembling. "Maybe I like the fire."
Angela sighed. "Just promise me you won't let this guy mess with your head."
"I won't," Lauretta said. "It was one night. He's probably already forgotten me."
"Or he is masturbating and thinking about you right now?"
Lauretta squeezes her face in disgust, "Eww Angela, you really need a check up, what's wrong with you?"
Laughter could be heard from the phone.
"Anyways, eat well, sleep well and I will call you back later to disturb you as usual" Angela said.
Lauretta sighs, "Please don't call me again "
"In your dreams baby"
---
But miles away, Savior Hunt sat in his hotel suite, the morning light cutting through the curtains. His phone buzzed with messages from his father's assistant, from Dew, from the company board.
He ignored them all.
On the table sat his untouched coffee.
He'd been staring at the skyline for an hour, trying to shake her from his mind.
It wasn't working.
He could still smell her - faintly, maddeningly - the mix of roses and something wild. Her eyes had haunted him all night, golden and defiant.
He rubbed the back of his neck, muttering, "Get it together, Hunt."
But when he closed his eyes, he saw her again - that smirk, that strength. The way she'd said his name like she was testing its worth.
And for the first time in a long time, Savior felt something he didn't like to admit.
He wanted her.
Not as a passing curiosity. Not as a challenge.
He needed to see her again.
"I can't possibly want a stranger" he mutters.
---
Lauretta ended her call with Angela, smiling faintly. "He's probably already forgotten me," she repeated under her breath.
But deep down, she knew the truth - and so did the wolf inside her.
Whatever had happened between her and Savior Hunt wasn't done.
Not even close.
Or maybe it has.
