Chapter 103: Welcome to Paris

*~ Hazel’s POV~*

After driving for what seems like days we finally reached our destination. I won’t lie...the city of Paris was very much alive. Vibrant. Buzzing with elegance.

As we drove through the streets, everything shimmered under the golden sunset. The people were flawlessly dressed, perfectly styled, like they’d stepped out of a Vogue spread. Flowers bloomed on balconies, soft music played from open cafés, and every corner of the city felt touched by magic. Even the stone pavements had character, like they held secrets of centuries past.

"Do you have any idea where we’re going?" I asked, turning to Cyrius.

He didn’t answer. He just pulled the car to a smooth stop in front of a massive, breathtaking building.

"Just follow me," he said.

I rolled my eyes as he stepped out, rounding to open my door like a perfect gentleman—as if he hadn’t just kidnapped me and forced me halfway across Europe. Still, I allowed it, stepping out carefully, clutching my babies to my chest.

We approached the entrance, and a guard stepped forward to block us.

"I’m looking for Mr. Alexander," Cyrius said coolly. "Pont Alexander III."

The guard raised a brow. "Name?"

"Tell him I’m Cyrius Salvatore."

That got the reaction he was looking for.

The guard nodded and disappeared. A few minutes later, he returned and silently pushed the grand doors open for us.

And oh my stars.

My jaw dropped.

The foyer alone looked like it belonged in a royal castle. Fresh roses filled every vase. Massive oil portraits lined the walls. Velvet and marble and gold—everywhere. It was like stepping into one of those historical romance novels I used to devour as a teenager.

We climbed stairs that seemed to stretch forever. I was already panting when Cyrius turned and smirked at me.

"Do you want me to carry you?" he asked. "You and the twins? I don’t mind."

at

out stepped a man—no taller than 5’1", round and heavyset with a thick beard and an unmistakable air of wealth. The scent of expensive cologne couldn’t hide

moment he laid eyes on Cyrius, his eyes lit

crooked grin full of yellow-stained teeth. I instinctively turned my baby’s head away, covering their

man is this?"

gave a polite smile. "Let’s just say... I’ve been

laughed heartily, then turned his eyes to me. "And who

French—probably "darling" or

my wife.

I blinked, giving Cyrius a look that

flinch.

but I kept it together. If Cyrius had given me that name, there was a reason—and I’d figure it

inside, and the two men sat me

course, that’s when

to breastfeed them, all while keeping my eyes sharp, alert. This place was beautiful,

it had stood for over a hundred years. Maybe longer. Decades upon decades

A little too curated.

returned, standing tall in

be staying here

He

The Pax of Paris is hosting it—an old alliance that

snapped up.

It belongs to one of the highest houses of the Pax. Why do

here, of course. I have my own pack to

strand of hair behind my ear with far

said smoothly. "

dragged me halfway across the world to Paris—far, far from New Orleans. Then he’d changed my name. Then he’d declared I was his wife and my babies were his heirs. And now he was whisking me off to...

the marble walls. "You want to do

turned calmly, as if reading from a

own damn sake! You think you’re happy back in New Orleans—problems this, problems that. Do you really believe Cayden and

aren’t safe there," he said. "Here, I can make

pressed my lips together, struggling to understand. If I wanted any hope of ever escaping, I’d have to play along—make him drop his guard. There was no way he’d let me go, not after everything

his lips. "So from

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