Sudden Confession

Winter was nervous throughout the ride. Not because of Mr. Riggs, but because of her father, Alpha Vincent. There was no doubt she was in trouble. She had just hopped into an SUV with a man, agreeing to accompany him to another country. Caden hadn't seen her get in, but he would surely know she had run away—and wouldn't be home that night. She was in trouble regardless.

Her phone buzzed in her jeans pocket.

She fished it out. It was Henry. The message read:

"Acting Alpha Caden came over to ask for you. He said he needed to tell you something urgent."

Winter's fingers immediately moved over the keyboard, her heart pounding.

"What did you tell him?" she replied.

Henry's response came a minute later:

"I told him you took the day off."

Winter sighed and slumped back on the leather seat. She had told Caden she was at the Riggs Corporation to deliver orders. He'd know she was lying now—especially with Henry saying she took the day off.

"Is something bothering you?"

Winter looked up. The question had come from Mr. Riggs, though his gaze remained fixed on his tab.

She cleared her throat. "When are we going to make the negotiations?"

"I figured we could have a proper discussion when we get on the jet."

"I think it's best if we make the negotiations now. I need to know what you're offering before you fly me out of the country."

That got his attention. He looked up from his phone and at Winter. Her heart skipped a beat when his intense blue eyes rested on her. She tried to compose herself.

"You have nothing to worry about. My offer is not cheap, Miss…"

He trailed off, raising an eyebrow at her—clearly expecting her to complete it.

"Winter. Winter Davis."

She had deliberately provided a wrong surname. She couldn't risk him looking her up and discovering she was raised by a family of wolves. She'd be discarded as soon as he found out. Thank goodness he hadn't seen her CV.

"Right. Miss Winter. You're only needed to accompany me for the day. We're going to part ways as soon as we return from Italy."

"Why do you need a companion?"

"We're going for a fashion show sponsored by us. I'll need you for one or two things."

"Which is?"

"When we get there, ask questions."

Winter nodded, breathing out.

"How much are we talking?"

He said nothing and returned his gaze to the iPad, scribbling on the tab.

"One thousand dollars?"

No response.

"Higher or lower? Five hundred dollars?"

Still nothing. His gaze was fixed on the tab.

"One hundred dollars? That's pretty low—"

"One hundred and fifty thousand dollars."

Winter gasped—just as the car pulled to a stop. He closed the tab with its case and got off the car.

She couldn't believe her ears. Fucking one hundred and fifty thousand dollars for a day's job? What would he pay if it were a monthly gig?

A knock on the window startled her. It was Mr. Riggs, gesturing for her to get off.

The private jet terminal contained only his SUV and a white private jet stationed at the far end. She took a closer look at it as they approached. Two air hostesses stood at the foot of the jet, bowing politely the moment they neared. Mr. Riggs didn't bother acknowledging them, but Winter did, offering a low, respectful bow to the women.

She followed closely behind him into the jet, and as she stepped inside, a soft gasp escaped her lips. It was an entirely different world.

An L-shaped couch wrapped elegantly around one corner. A center table, oval-shaped and made of gleaming marble, stood proudly between the seats. A bar with a sleek mini counter glowed invitingly. In the main section, two leather seats faced forward, each complete with seat belts.

She glanced to her right—and paused. A staircase spiraled upward, leading to another sector entirely.

"Sit. We're leaving in thirty minutes," Mr. Riggs said.

Winter slowly sank into one of the seats, still wide-eyed and absorbing the surreal luxury around her. It was her first time stepping into a private jet, and it surpassed everything she had imagined.

Another air hostess entered with a practiced smile, her red lips bright against her flawless skin. She beamed generously at Mr. Riggs.

"Mr. Riggs, please fasten your seat belt."

Then she turned to Winter, the warmth in her smile disappearing just slightly.

"Your seat belt, miss."

"It's Winter," she corrected gently, fastening the belt across her waist.

The woman forced a polite smile, offered Mr. Riggs one last dazzling grin, and then exited. Winter rolled her eyes.

She turned to Mr. Riggs—only to find him already watching her. She straightened instantly, alarm flickering through her. Had she done something wrong? Was she about to be thrown off the jet?

"We'll find something fresh for you to wear when we get to Italy," he said, giving her a brief once-over.

"Thank you."

He hummed in response.

Then, before she could stop herself, the question slipped out.

"Why are you being nice to me?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You're nice to me, Mr. Riggs. I—"

"Darren," he interrupted. "Call me Darren."

She swallowed, fingers instinctively fiddling with a loose thread on her jeans.

"D-Darren… why are you nice to me?"

"I'm not being nice. I'm making an offer."

"That's a lie and you know it," she said, lifting her gaze. "I'm underqualified for this job. You could find a hundred other people—more than qualified for this—and yet you're giving it to me. And the pay… it's what most people earn in a year. This offer is too good to be true."

Darren studied her for a long moment, eyes calm and unreadable.

"Miss Winter," he said softly, "has anyone ever told you you're beautiful?"

Her heart stopped. Her world froze.

Did that just slip from Darren's lips… or was a hallucination?