Chapter 61 Hotel

Chapter 61 Hotel
The grand ballroom of the Grand Plaza Hotel was bathed in shimmering gold light. Massive crystal chandeliers hung high overhead, casting a dazzling glow over the city’s most influential political figures, wealthy human elites, and high-ranking werewolf pack leaders.
Tonight was the official Victory Gala, celebrating Charles Edwin’s sworn inauguration as Mayor.
Harriet stood near the edge of the polished marble dance floor, a glass of sparkling water resting lightly in her gloved hand. She was the undisputed focal point of the entire room. She wore a custom-designed gown of liquid emerald silk—her own creation—that draped off her shoulders and hugged every curve before spilling onto the floor in a sleek, dramatic train. Her hair was swept up into an elegant construct, exposing her long neck and the glittering diamond necklace Charles had locked around her throat before they left the mansion.
The whispered insults and cold stares from high society were gone. In their place was desperate, groveling respect. Powerful women who had once ignored her at charity events now lined up just to exchange pleasantries, eager to stay on the good side of the Mayor’s wife.
"Look at them," Godwin murmured, stepping up beside her in a flawless tailored tuxedo, sipping his champagne. "Six months ago, these vultures wouldn't even look in your direction. Now they're sweating through their silk suits just trying to catch your eye."
Harriet offered a cool, composed smile, taking a small sip of her drink. "Power is an efficient equalizer, Godwin."
Across the room, Charles stood surrounded by city council members and pack elders. He wore a crisp black tuxedo that accentuated his broad shoulders and commanding stature. Even while discussing urban zoning and territory security, his dark gold eyes flickered across the ballroom every few seconds, tracking Harriet's every breath. The dark, possessive wire in his chest remained tight, but now it hummed with deep, calm satisfaction.
"Excuse me, Godwin," Harriet said smoothly. "I'm going to get some fresh air near the terrace."
"I'll have two guards follow at a distance," Godwin replied with a polite nod.
Harriet glided toward the open glass doors leading to the moonlit stone balcony. The cool night breeze offered a welcome relief from the warm air inside. She leaned her forearms against the carved marble balustrade, looking out over the glittering city skyline.
"It really is a breathtaking view, isn't it?"
A rich, overly smooth voice cut through the quiet.
Harriet turned her head slowly. Stepping out onto the terrace was Julian Vance—a notoriously arrogant real estate tycoon and Charles’s primary corporate opponent during the election. Vance was mid-forties, undeniably wealthy, and accustomed to getting whatever—and whomever—he wanted.
"Mr. Vance," Harriet said, her tone polite but distant. "I didn't notice you standing nearby."
Vance closed the distance between them, ignoring the two heavy Edwin guards posted discreetly near the terrace doors. He rested his elbow on the marble railing, leaning into her personal space. His eyes slid brazenly down the front of her emerald dress, lingering on the curve of her waist before rising to meet her dark gaze.
"I must admit, Mrs. Edwin," Vance murmured, his voice dropping into a low, predatory purr. "When Charles brought home a human bride, everyone in the city thought he was losing his mind. But seeing you tonight... standing here looking like absolute royalty... I'm beginning to realize Charles is much smarter than I gave him credit for."
Harriet’s posture didn't shift. "My husband's intellect has never been in question, Mr. Vance."
Vance let out a soft laugh, taking a step closer, his expensive cologne lingering in the night air. He reached out a hand, his fingers aiming to trail lightly over her exposed shoulder.
"A woman of your beauty, talent, and sudden authority shouldn't be hidden away in a beast's fortress," Vance whispered, his eyes gleaming with sly, calculated charm. "Charles is a violent man, Harriet. Wild. Unpredictable. A delicate, exquisite flower like you deserves a man who knows how to handle a woman with smooth, civilized care. If you ever find yourself tired of playing the dutiful Luna to a monster... my estate doors are always open to you."
Harriet didn't pull away in fear. She didn't flinch.
Instead, she slapped his hand away with a hard, sharp strike of her palm that echoed loudly across the quiet balcony.
Vance blinked in shock, pulling his hand back as the skin on his wrist flushed red.
Harriet stepped into his space, her emerald dress rustling sharply. She lifted her head, her dark eyes flashing with a cold, terrifying lethal authority that made the seasoned tycoon take a step back.
"Do not touch me," Harriet said, her voice dropping into an icy, razor-sharp whisper that cut deeper than a blade. "And do not confuse my silence for weakness, Mr. Vance."
Vance swallowed hard, his arrogant smile completely faltering under her fierce gaze. "Harriet, I was merely—"
"You are a failed politician who lost an election because you lacked the vision and strength to lead this city," Harriet interrupted smoothly, taking another step forward until she was towering over him in her heels. "My husband rebuilt his family, secured this territory, and won the loyalty of millions while you were busy buying votes in country clubs. You call him a monster because you are terrified of him."
She leaned in slightly, her voice laced with pure, absolute ice.
"If I hear you utter another disrespectful word about my husband, or if you ever step into my space again, I will not bother calling my guards," Harriet promised softly. "I will personally see to it that every commercial contract your firm holds in this city is revoked by morning. The Edwin name will wipe your legacy off the board before you can even file a lawsuit. Do you understand me?"
Vance stood frozen, his face turning a pale, sickly gray. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but no sound came out.
"Good evening, Mr. Vance," Harriet added flatly.
Before Vance could even turn around, a broad, towering shadow fell completely over the balcony.
Charles stepped out from the archway, his broad chest rising heavily, his jaw set in a terrifying, rigid line. His dark gold eyes were glowing brightly in the moonlight, a low, lethal Alpha growl vibrating deep inside his throat—a sound so heavy it made the glass doors behind them hum.
Charles ignored Vance entirely, stepping right up behind Harriet. He wrapped a massive, warm arm around her waist, pulling her flush back against his hard chest, locking her into his space while his glowing eyes locked onto Vance’s trembling form.
"Is there a problem here, Vance?" Charles growled out, his voice so deep and dangerous that two nearby pack guards immediately shifted their weight, ready for a command.
Vance backed up until his spine hit the stone wall of the hotel. Sweat broke out across his forehead as the raw, suffocating pressure of Charles’s Alpha presence pressed down on his chest.
"No—no, Mayor Edwin," Vance stammered out, raising his hands in immediate surrender. "No problem at all. Just... paying my respects to your wife. I was just leaving."
Vance practically tripped over his own feet as he turned and hurried back inside the warm ballroom, disappearing into the crowd like a coward.
The quiet returned to the balcony, saved only by the distant sounds of the orchestra inside.
Charles didn't loosen his grip on her waist. He turned Harriet around in his arms, pressing her back against the marble balustrade, his large hands resting possessively on her hips. His glowing eyes scanned her face, his thumb coming up to lightly touch her cheekbone.
"Did he touch you?" Charles demanded, his voice thick with a dark, territorial heat. "Tell me, Harriet, and I'll break his neck on the dance floor."
Harriet smiled softly, wrapping her arms around his broad neck, her fingers lightly trailing through the hair at the nape of his neck.
"He tried to," Harriet whispered smoothly, looking up into his golden eyes without a trace of fear. "I handled it. I told him I'd ruin his entire life using your name."
Charles stared down at her for a long, heavy moment. A slow, dangerous, deeply satisfied smile spread across his sharp features. He leaned down, burying his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet scent deeply as his grip on her hips tightened until it was almost bruised.
"God, you are lethal," Charles growled dark against her skin, kissing the hot flesh of her throat. "My little human wife... threatening billionaires on balconies."
"I am the Mayor's wife," Harriet replied, leaning into his touch, her breath hitching as his hands slid down to cup her backside, lifting her slightly off the stone floor. "I have a reputation to maintain."
"Let's go home," Charles growled into her mouth, his lips brushing hers in a hard, demanding promise. "I want you out of this dress, and I want you under me before the hour ends."