Michael’s POV
Warmth spread across the front of my shirt before I even glanced down.
For a moment, no one moved as silence fell over the corridor.
I lowered my gaze from the front of my charcoal suit to my shoes. The polished leather looked nothing like it had moments ago.
The woman before me had both hands clamped over her mouth. She was so pale, I wondered how she was still standing.
"I’m... I’m so sorry..." Her voice trembled. "I..."
She lowered one hand as if to explain, but no words followed. A heartbeat later, she covered her mouth again, utterly mortified.
Only then did I properly look at her.
Emerald Hugo. Again. What were the odds?
She refused to meet my eyes. Her gaze stayed fixed on my ruined shirt, dropped to my shoes, then darted away again.
"I... I didn’t mean..."
Her apology faded into silence. She looked as though she wished the floor would open beneath her.
I studied her for a moment. Her complexion was still poor. Her breathing remained uneven, and despite the embarrassment written all over her face, the nausea clearly hadn’t passed.
She wasn’t simply drunk. She was unwell.
Right then, footsteps approached from behind.
"Alpha—"
I quickly turned my head.
Xero immediately caught himself. "...Sir."
I said nothing. He had already corrected the mistake.
Emerald, however, hadn’t seemed to notice. She was still standing there, one hand covering her mouth while refusing to meet my eyes.
"Are you here alone?" I asked.
The question seemed to surprise her. She looked up at me briefly before shaking her head.
"No..." Her voice came out weak. "I came with my friends."
"Where are they?"
"They’re..." She swallowed. "They’re in one of the VIP rooms."
I gave a slight nod. For a moment, I had assumed she had been drinking by herself, but that no longer appeared to be the case.
I looked toward one of the attendants standing discreetly at the end of the corridor and called her attention.
"Excuse me."
The young woman hurried over immediately. "Yes, sir?"
"Please assist this lady."
"Of course, sir." The attendant replied and then moved beside Emerald with a reassuring smile.
I looked back at Emerald. "You shouldn’t drink again tonight," I said, and then watched her thick, long lashes flutter a few times before adding, "Find something to eat instead."
For a second, she simply stared at me, as though she hadn’t expected those words. Then she gave a small, embarrassed nod.
"I... understand."
I turned to the attendant. "Have food sent to her private room."
The attendant nodded. "Certainly, sir."
"Put it on my account."
"Yes, sir."
Emerald looked up, startled. "You don’t have to—" She broke off abruptly and pressed a hand over her mouth again.
The attendant understood at once. "This way, miss."
Emerald could only nod. As she followed the attendant toward the ladies’ washroom, she paused once and glanced back at me.
Her lips moved without sound—another apology—before she disappeared around the corner.
I watched until she was no longer in sight. Only then did Xero clear his throat. "Sir."
I turned my attention to him.
"The council members have all arrived."
I glanced down at my suit once more. He was right. "I’ll need to change."
"A spare suit has already been prepared."
"I expected nothing less."
Before either of us could continue, another familiar voice drifted down the corridor.
"Well..."
Alaric Nashville strolled toward us with both hands tucked casually into his trouser pockets.
He was dressed more casually than I was, the sleeves of his dark shirt rolled neatly to his forearms. A colourful tattoo wound around one arm before disappearing beneath the fabric, creating a striking contrast with his otherwise polished appearance.
Like me, he had the build of a man who trained often, and several guests glanced his way as he passed.
When he reached us, his gaze swept over my suit, dropped to my shoes, then returned to my face.
"Remarkable." His lips twitched. "You actually let someone throw up on you."
"I didn’t let anything happen."
"No." He nodded thoughtfully. "Of course not." His eyes flicked back to my shirt. "It simply... happened."
Xero wisely remained expressionless.
Alaric folded his arms. "I’ve known you for years. I’ve seen hostile takeover attempts. I’ve seen assassination attempts.
"I remember."
"I’ve even seen someone pull a gun on you." He paused dramatically before pointing toward my ruined shirt. "But this..."
A grin slowly spread across his face. "...this is definitely a first."
"It is," I admitted. Who else would get close enough to vomit on me?
Alaric laughed. "And the best part? It is the same woman."
I stared at him. I hadn’t realized he had watched the entire scene unfold.
Still thoroughly amused, he added, "The woman from the Mercer Technologies event."
"I know who she is."
"Oh, I know you do." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "You’ve run into her twice in less than a week."
I said nothing. I knew exactly where he meant to take this, but he would need my participation to get there.
Alaric’s grin widened. "I don’t believe in coincidences."
"I do."
"Of course you do." He chuckled before turning toward the restricted corridor leading deeper into the club.
"Come on." His expression gradually became more serious. "We’ve kept the others waiting long enough."
I gave one last glance toward the corridor where Emerald had disappeared before turning away. "I will be right behind you after I change my suit."
Xero fell into step behind me as we left and detoured to one of the private executive suites reserved for members. A fresh suit had already been prepared, exactly as Xero had anticipated.
Less than five minutes later, I stepped back into the corridor, dressed in a dark navy suit. Xero took the garment bag containing my soiled clothes without a word, while Alaric, who had been waiting, looked me over before shaking his head with a grin.
"I have to admit," he said, laughing under his breath, "you recover from disasters rather quickly."
The three of us continued toward the restricted conference wing at the far end of the club. Unlike the public areas, this corridor was heavily guarded.
The moment the security personnel saw us approaching, every one of them straightened instinctively.
"Good evening, Mr. King."
"Mr. Nashville."
Each greeting was delivered with unmistakable respect as they stepped aside and opened the reinforced double doors without requiring identification.
Beyond the entrance lay an expansive private conference hall.
Influential men and women from across the country already occupied the long oval table. Their conversations stopped the instant we entered.
Nearly everyone stood, their greetings following one after another.
"Alpha Alaric."
"Alpha Lucien."
Very few humans knew my true name. To them, I was Michael King. Among werewolves, however, Michael had never existed.
I answered with a slight nod and walked deeper into the room beside Alaric. Only a few men remained seated.
They were Alphas as well.
Like Alaric and me, they ruled their own packs and answered only to the laws governing our kind.
I took my seat.
Alaric sat beside me, looking around the room as the last trace of humour faded from his expression.
I rested my forearms on the table, my gaze sweeping across the room before it settled on the faces waiting for me.
"Shall we begin?"