Chapter 153: Birthday Preparations

Amelia's POV

I watched the sleek black car pull away from the curb, the words still echoing in my head.

"Caius," I whispered to myself, testing the unfamiliar name on my tongue. I'd never heard it before. It sounded ancient, almost mythical—fitting for a man who seemed to exist outside normal social rules.

The afternoon sun was already casting long shadows across the sidewalk as I checked my watch. I'd been gone much longer than intended, but I had everything I needed for Alexander's surprise. My arms were loaded with shopping bags containing candles, decorations, and of course, the special lingerie I'd picked out after much deliberation.

When I pushed through the hotel's revolving doors, the front desk receptionist practically jumped over the counter to intercept me.

"Miss Throne! You're finally back!" Her professional smile barely masked her relief.

I frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"Mr. Westbrook just returned minutes ago," she said, lowering her voice. "He's been asking about your whereabouts. He seemed..." she hesitated, searching for a diplomatic word, "concerned when he couldn't locate you."

My stomach dropped. "Did he say where he was going?"

"No, ma'am. He left to look for you. You just missed him."

Shit. I thanked her and hurried toward the elevators, my shopping bags suddenly feeling like dead weight in my hands. This wasn't how I'd planned things at all.

Inside our suite, I immediately plugged my dead phone into the charger. While I waited for it to power up, I set my shopping bags on the bed and collapsed beside them, suddenly exhausted by the weight of my miscalculation.

When the phone finally came to life, it buzzed incessantly with notifications. Twelve missed calls. Twenty-three text messages. All from Alexander.

I scrolled through them with growing dread:

Where are you?

Answer your phone, Amelia.

Who gave you permission to leave the hotel alone?

The messages grew increasingly terse:

AMELIA THRONE, PRAY THAT I WON'T FIND YOU!

I swallowed hard. Even through text, I could feel his fury—and beneath it, something else. Worry. I quickly typed back:

Just got back to the hotel. Don't worry, I'm fine.

I tried calling him immediately, but the call went straight to voicemail. I tried again. Same result.

"Fuck," I muttered, tossing the phone onto the bed.

This wasn't how his birthday surprise was supposed to go. But I couldn't just sit here waiting. I had to move forward with my plan. Maybe I could still salvage this night.

I began unpacking my purchases. First, I carefully removed the small gift box containing the four-leaf clover necklace I'd found in the market. I placed the box on the nightstand where he'd be sure to see it.

Next, I unwrapped the small wolf figurine carved from white stone. It had caught my eye immediately—proud and powerful, carved with incredible detail despite its small size.

I dug through the shopping bags, looking for the crisp white shirt I'd bought for Alexander.

But the shirt wasn't there.

"Damn it," I muttered, rubbing my temples in frustration. "It has to be at the boutique or sitting in Caius's car right now. Brilliant job, Lia. First you get yourself completely lost, and now you've managed to forget Alexander's shirt. Perfect."

With a sigh, I turned my attention back to the remaining items. I'd have to proceed without it. I placed the cake—a small but elegant chocolate creation—in the center of the coffee table. I admired the silver piping and dark chocolate ganache before carefully positioning the white stone wolf figurine at the top of the cake, like a personalized topper that represented him far better than any generic decoration.

Next came the scented candles I'd purchased from a specialty shop. The saleswoman had assured me these weren't ordinary candles but "moonlight candles" with special significance for werewolves—supposedly enhancing connection and intimacy. Whether that was true or just marketing nonsense, they cast a beautiful silvery glow that transformed the ordinary hotel suite into something magical.

I arranged several around the cake, saving the rest for the bedroom. As I worked, I mentally rehearsed what I would say to Alexander when he returned. How I would apologize for disappearing without a note, then transition to celebrating his birthday. And explain why I didn't have the perfect white shirt I'd been so excited about giving him.

After arranging the living room, I moved to the bedroom, placing candles strategically around the space—on the nightstands, the dresser, even a few on the bathroom counter. The silver packaging promised they would "evoke the power of the full moon," and I had to admit, there was something enchanting about their glow.

With the scene set, I headed to the bathroom to prepare myself, determined to complete my preparations. I took a quick shower, dried my hair until it fell in soft waves around my shoulders, and applied makeup with extra care—smoky eyes, a hint of blush, and the deep red lipstick Alexander seemed to like.

Then came the lingerie—delicate black lace that complemented my eyes and skin tone. I'd spent nearly an hour in the boutique selecting it, wanting something that made me feel both sexy and elegant.

Over the lingerie, I slipped on the blue dress Alexander had once complimented, and stepped into heels that made my legs look endless. Looking in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. I looked sophisticated, seductive—worthy of an Alpha.

Back in the bedroom, I lit all the moonlight candles. Their subtle scent—something like cedar and night-blooming jasmine—filled the air. With everything in place, I moved to the living area and lit the candles surrounding the cake. The suite was transformed, bathed in soft, flickering light.

Now all I needed was Alexander.

I checked my phone again. No response. I tried calling once more, but still nothing. The clock read 7:30 PM. Surely he'd be back soon.

By eight o'clock, my excitement had dimmed somewhat. I paced the suite, careful not to disturb any of my preparations. The cake sat untouched, the white wolf figurine catching the candlelight, the candles burning slowly lower.

At nine, I called again. Straight to voicemail. My excitement had fully morphed into anxiety. Where was he? Why wasn't he answering? Had something happened to him? Or was he so angry about my disappearance that he was deliberately staying away?

By ten, the doubt had thoroughly eroded my confidence. The beautiful dress felt too tight, the makeup too heavy on my face. I sat on the edge of the bed, thinking about the missing white shirt and how perfectly it would have completed my gift. Another mistake to add to the growing list. Should I have just told him I was planning a surprise? Left a note? Asked permission?

The thought made me bristle. Asked permission. I wasn't a child. And yet, as his mate, wasn't there an expectation that I wouldn't just disappear without explanation?

At 10:30, I got up to check the cake. The candles around it had burned dangerously low. I replaced them with fresh ones from my shopping bag, not willing to give up on my surprise just yet. I adjusted the wolf figurine, which had slightly tilted to one side.

By eleven, the anxiety had twisted into something darker. What if he wasn't coming back tonight? What if my disappearance had angered him beyond repair? I pictured him in some bar, deliberately ignoring my calls, or worse—seeking comfort elsewhere.

My stomach knotted with each passing minute. I wandered to the window, pressing my forehead against the cool glass, watching the city lights blur through unshed tears. This was supposed to be a special night—my gift to him—but I'd somehow turned it into another disaster. The carefully arranged room now seemed to mock me, the romantic setting highlighting my isolation.

I touched the delicate lace beneath my dress, remembering how confident I'd felt purchasing it, imagining Alexander's reaction. Now that confidence had evaporated like morning dew, leaving only the cold reality that I might have seriously misjudged the situation. Again.

I couldn't stand waiting anymore. I grabbed my purse, ready to go search for him myself, when I heard three sharp knocks at the door.

My heart leapt. Finally! I rushed to open it, relief flooding through me.

The door swung open to reveal Alexander standing in the hallway, his posture rigid with tension. Before I could speak, he pushed inside, backing me against the wall with his body. His eyes were bloodshot, his jawline tight with barely contained rage.

"What exactly do you think this trip is for, Amelia?" he growled, his face inches from mine. "A vacation? Sightseeing? Who gave you permission to leave this hotel by yourself?"