Autostrasse, Airport, Hansville, Germany

On the drive back to the airport, Dahlia sprawled across the back seat, sketching while Tod and Jason bickered up front.

"Dahlia, what do you think?" Tod called over his shoulder.

"About what?" she mumbled, not looking up.

"Girl, hand me that iPad. Let me see," Tod demanded, reaching back.

She sighed and passed it to him. "What the hell?" scrolling. "These are amazing. Why are you wasting time at that stupid intern job? You're ridiculously talented. Jason, look at this."

"Tod, the road's slick, and I'm driving. Can you not?" Jason snapped.

"Fine," Tod grumbled, tossing the iPad back to Dahlia. "Keep messing with these but mark my words..."

A song blared from the radio, cutting him off. "I love this song!" Tod shouted, belting out the lyrics like his life depended on it. Dahlia and Jason couldn't help but laugh. Loving Tod was unavoidable, he was a walking tornado of energy, impossible to resist.

The flight was ten hours long.

They made it home just in time for quick showers before collapsing into bed.

Chicago, US,

A week before thanksgiving...

The building stretched ten floors, and the elevators were always crammed. Dahlia slipped on her headphones and stepped inside. By the time most people had cleared out, she was just few floors from her stop.

The man in the corner kept glancing at her foot tapping to the beat and her long braid swaying slightly. The doors slid open again, and Henry stepped in.

She didn't even look his way. He yanked her headphones off.

"What's your problem?" he asked, his tone clipped.

"Don't touch me or my stuff," she snapped, holding up a hand. "This is the line. Cross it, and you'll regret it."

"You're insane. What did I even do? Where were you anyway?

"Oh, I'll tell you. Before the accident, I stopped by your office.

You and your little Barbie secretary were having a nice chat about me. 'Dumb girl'? 'Keep her for the holidays? Ring any bells?"

Dahlia watched his face pale. "Now leave me the hell alone." She jammed her headphones back on, cranking the volume loud enough to drown him out. Didn't notice the other man still watching them.

When she reached her floor, she stepped out. Henry stayed behind.

Dahlia walked to her desk, pulled off her headphones, and logged into her computer.

An email popped up about the holiday auction, a week date with the top bachelor, blah blah blah, in the Swiss Alps cabin they had to write a letter of what will they'll love to do for Christmas.

Okay, that's easy one word-nothing.

Conference room

The boss called everyone into the conference room, and they all stared at him like he was about to drop some earth-shattering news.

"I'm a little disappointed," he said, pacing. "We need something fast to market these... uh," he paused, squinting at the pants displayed on the screen, "whatever-the-hell these are that Janelle designed."

The room erupted into giggles.

"Alright, get to work, and we'll regroup at two."

As they filed out, Jane and Flora started whispering behind Dahlia's back.

"Are you living on a farm or something?" Jane laughed, eyeing Dahlia's oversized sweater.

Dahlia ignored them, plopping down at her desk. She glanced at the designer outfit on her screen. Who in their right mind would buy that? Definitely, she couldn't even afford it.

"Dahlia," Lance appeared out of nowhere, leaning over her desk. "Did you write that letter yet? Just checking in with everyone. Get it done today, okay?"

"Lance, don't you have someone else to annoy?" she replied, not looking up from her computer.

"Do it," he hissed, way too close to her ear.

"Personal space, Lance. Don't be a creep. Fine, look, I'm doing it now."

Christmas lets me become a child again, sipping cocoa with melting marshmallows while snow blankets the world outside. I want to build lopsided snowmen and collapse into snow angels, then warm my frozen fingertips beside a crackling fire. I want to breathe in the smell of pine, ran in the white vast until I can't breathe. I want to lay in the snow, and watch the snowflakes fall on my face, softly. Laugh.

This is my Christmas,

Dahlia

Then she hit send.

Jane laughed. You are a boring intern.

Dahlia ignored her.

Hey, Flora, she just wants snow for Christmas, Jane laughed. Then she walked away.

She was used to bullies, didn't grow up like normal children, she was fostered by a kind couple who did their best, and yeah, it was fine.

Dahlia had to grow up fast, no fairy tales there, searched for her parents.

Since she was fifteen, no memory of her childhood, with zero luck.

Now, it was just Tod and Jason, the duo who basically adopted her like a stray dog they couldn't resist.

They loved her, unconditionally and honestly, she couldn't imagine her life without them. Who the hell was Dahlia Fin? she wondered, leaning back in her chair.

Conference room

They all sat back down at the conference table. Mr. Mel stared at them, unimpressed. "This is the best you've got. Seriously?"

"I want to sing!" Dahlia blurted out, and the room erupted in laughter.

"Kid, I know you're new, but what exactly are you going for here?"

She stood up, determined. "I want to sing! I wear Fling..." she gestured to her pants, "find a killer tune, and..."

He froze, and she instantly regretted it. But then he broke into a grin. "I fucking love it, kid," he said, then cleared his throat. "Sorry about the language. Now, get to work and find me someone with a decent tune. Keep this up, and you'll make it to the top." He pointed upstairs. She smiled.

Jane grabbed her arm. "You got lucky. Don't get used to it. I've been here three years, and I'm going to the top first."

"Am I stopping you, Jane? Take the elevator," Dahlia shot back.

Lance chuckled as he walked past.

Dahlia logged out of her computer and headed for the elevator, silently praying she wouldn't run into Henry.

Thursday, Thanksgiving Day...

"Dahlia, get your ass up, I need a hand," Tod called out, already halfway through peeling potatoes.

"Alright, alright," she groaned, stretching like a cat. She shuffled into the kitchen in her ratty slippers and lounge pants; hair piled into a messy bun.

"Start chopping these," he said, shoving a knife her way. "Morning," he added, planting a quick kiss on her cheek. "Want a pancake before you start?"

"Nah, I'm good. Coffee, though. I'll grab it."

It was her first Thanksgiving with them, and she wasn't about to waste it. Tod cranked up some tunes, and soon they were both humming along, knives clacking in rhythm.

Jason crept in, phone in hand, recording the whole scene.

By the time they noticed, he was sprinting down the hall, slamming his bedroom door behind him.

"Get back here and delete that, or you're not eating!" Tod shouted, pointing the spatula like a weapon.

They laughed it off for the moment, leaving him to his antics.

The table looked like it belonged in a damn magazine, Dahlia had never seen anything so fancy outside of TV. Tod insisted they dress up, and after some grumbling, and losing the argument, they all trudged back to their rooms to change. They took about a hundred photos, laughed too loud, and finally sat down to eat.

They settled in to watch movies, Dahlia sandwiched between them. Then the tears started again. She was thinking not even a call from Lupin, a text, a word...

"Girl, if I see one more tear, I swear..." Tod pulled her into a hug.

"I just... I love you guys. You're my family," she mumbled into his shoulder.

"We love you too, Dahlia," Jason said, rolling his eyes but smiling. "Now quit the sappy stuff and tell us what happened at work. You started earlier, but Todd interrupted, as usual."

She recounted the marketing project, the letter she'd written. They listened, then stared at her.

"Damn, Dahlia, that's... actually kind of beautiful," Tod admitted. "Hope you get a date out of it. Honestly, girl, you need to get laid."

"Tod, shut up," Jason cut in. "You're being an ass. She's never even been with a guy."

"I don't need a guy," Dahlia shot back. "I'm focusing on work right now, and my designs. That's it."

"Fair enough," Tod said, leaning back. "So, when are they announcing it?"

"At the Christmas party this Friday."

Tod stood up suddenly. "You're thinking what I'm thinking, right, Jason?"

"Oh, absolutely," Jason replied, grinning.

"Shopping time," Tod declared.

"No way," Dahlia protested. "I can't afford it right now, and I'm not even going."

"What? Why?"

"Because I don't feel like it. The top-floor people will be there, and it's going to be packed."

"You're going," they said in unison, leaving no room for argument.

Grand Mall Chicago

They hauled her to the mall, dragging her to the salon first. The stylist snipped a bit here, layered a bit there, and suddenly her hair felt like silk. Next came the dress hunt. She tried on what felt like half the store, while Tod and Jason made faces like they were judging a bad reality show. Then Tod spotted it. "That's the one. Go try it. Now."

She stepped out, and both of them just gaped. "Holy shit," Tod muttered, elbowing Jason. "Have you seen her?"

"Yeah, but damn," Jason replied, shaking his head. "Okay, black heels, right?"

"Obviously. And that purse adorable. Jason, we need more girls in this family."

"Can we adopt another?" Jason joked, grinning.

They sat at the cafe smiling at her. What, she asked Tod.

Were exited for you, Jason said. You're so beautiful girl, and humble, if I was a guy I'll be in love with you right now. okay, don't cry, he hugged her.

Friday Party Day...

"Tod, hurry up, I want to see her already!"

She stepped out, and Jason just stopped dead. "Whoa," he muttered, fumbling for his phone. "Hold on, I need evidence of this moment." He snapped a few pictures while she rolled her eyes, cheeks flushing.

"You look like you walked straight out of Vogue," Tod said, crossing his arms. "Nope, I'm not letting her go. Jason, back me up here. Our girl's all grown up."

She laughed. "I love you guys. Seriously."

They helped her into a long black coat, and her phone buzzed. "Uber's here," she said, kissing them both on the cheek. "Don't wait up."

"Oh, we're waiting," Tod shot back. "You think we're missing the drama? Not a chance."

Dahlia climbed into the car, nerves buzzing.

She'd never been to a Christmas party like this before. The Uber pulled up to the building, and she stepped out, smoothing her coat. Inside, a guy stood by the elevator. He turned as she approached, and she offered a small smile. He returned it, a dimple popping in his cheek.

The elevator doors slid open, and they both reached for the button at the same time. "Sorry," he said, laughing. "What floor?"

"Party floor," she replied, slipping off her coat. He caught a whiff of her, what a scent...intoxicating.

"Looks like we're headed to the same place," he said. "Where do you work?"

"Marketing," she answered. "You?"

"Same. Marketing and design," Top floor, leaning against the wall.

The door opened and she just stood inside. So many people and music blasting.

Yeah, then she stepped out. Someone took her coat.

The party

He vanished into the crowd but kept his gaze locked on her. She moved through the room, drink in hand, when suddenly the music cut out.

"It's auction time. Top three bachelors, come on up."

They stepped onto the stage. Bachelor number one picked Jane Neel's letter. She lit up, and the room erupted in applause. He made his way down to her.

Bachelor number two chose Flora Jonson's letter, and he headed her way.

Then it was bachelor number three, the guy from the elevator. He picked Dahlia Fin's letter. Everyone turned to her, and she froze as he approached.

She just stared at him while he thought she looked stunning. The music kicked back in, and he held out his hand. Dahlia took it, and his hand slid to her back.

Red suited her.

Her hair was mostly pinned up, but a few strands framed her face, exposing her neck. He leaned in closer. "Tell me if this is too much."

She pulled back slightly, studying him, the stubble, the dark hair, those piercing blue gray eyes. Dahlia smiled. "I think I need a drink. I've never been to a..."

"Party?" he finished for her.

"Yeah," she laughed nervously. "So, where are we going this weekend? I didn't exactly read the whole email," she whispered.

He chuckled, his dimple showing. "A cabin in the mountains. I really liked your letter, by the way."

"Thanks," she said. "They're coming too, right?"

"Of course," he replied.

She stiffened, then forced a smile. "Okay."

"Let's grab a drink and loosen up a bit, yeah?" he suggested.

They headed to the bar, grabbed drinks, and found a quiet table. He couldn't stop staring at her-who was she? He'd seen her in the elevator, fighting with that sleazy lawyer.

"Why'd you pick my letter, Mr...?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"Hunter. Just Hunter. And I thought you seemed...genuine."

"Disappointed?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Not even close. I've seen you in the elevator a bunch of times, never dressed like this, though."

She shrugged. "I like to be comfortable. Our director doesn't enforce a dress code."

He laughed. "Honestly, we should all be like that more often. Suits are the worst."

She smiled, taking a sip of her drink. "Hunter," she paused, her tone serious now. "Just so we're clear, I'm not that kind of girl. So, if you're expecting... this week away, we can skip it."

He leaned back, smiling "Relax, Dahlia. I'll be a gentleman. But you've got to hold up your end of the deal."

"And what's that?"

"Everything in that letter. No backing out."

Her face lit up. "You mean it?"

"Yeah, I mean it," he said, grinning.

"Hunter, you don't exactly strike me as the type to..."

"Be normal?" he interrupted.

"I was going to say, 'be down for this.' You seem...polished. City guy, higher class."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do I really come off like that?"

She nodded and downed the rest of her drink.

"You might want to pace yourself," he warned. "Or you'll regret it tomorrow."

She smirked. "Is that a problem?" She waved the bartender over for another.

Hunter leaned in, curious. "So, Dahlia, tell me something about yourself."

She shrugged. "Finished marketing. I like designing stuff, but it's just a hobby. I live with two guys, best couple you'll ever meet. What about you?"

"I live alone. Family's not super close. I work a lot and...well..."

"Party?" she finished for him.

"Sometimes," he admitted with a laugh.

She stood abruptly, swaying slightly. "I need air." He caught her by the waist before she tipped over.

They made their way to the balcony overlooking the city. "Much better," she said, leaning on the railing. "I'm buzzed. Not going to lie."

A waiter appeared with shots. She grabbed one, pointed at him, and he followed suit. "You're cold," he noticed, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over her shoulders.

They talked for a while, then drifted back inside to dance. More drinks flowed. Her phone buzzed relentlessly while she was in the bathroom. He picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Who's this?" a man's voice snapped.

"Her date. Hunter. I chose her letter."

"Listen carefully," the man growled. "If anything happens to her, I'll make sure you regret it."

"Got it," Hunter replied evenly. "She's safe with me. I'll get her home."

"Good. Thank you, Hunter. Good night."

"Good night." He set the phone down just as she returned.

"Your dad called," he said. "Told him I'd take you home."

"Already?" She pouted.

"Not yet. Whenever you're ready."

"Okay." She pulled out the pin holding her hair up, letting it fall loose. That scent of hers hit him again.

She grabbed his hand and dragged him back to the dance floor. He laughed. It took her five drinks to finally loosen up.

He held her close, her head resting against his chest. She listened to his heartbeat for a moment before murmuring, "Hunter, I'm ready to go home now."

"Alright, let's grab our coats." She was still tipsy, leaning on him in the elevator. He kept her steady, one arm around her waist.

The driver opened the door, and she slumped against Hunter's shoulder. "I'm so tired," she mumbled.

"Hunter... thanks for tonight."

"You're welcome," he said, but she was already out cold. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering for a moment. The car pulled up to her apartment, and he waited, watching her breathe. Inhaled her scent as he closed his eyes.

"Hey," he said softly, touching her cheek. "You're home."

Her eyes blinked open, hazy but focused. She reached for the door, but he caught her hand. "See you tomorrow morning," he said, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

"Good night, Hunter," she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

"Good night, Dahlia," he replied, letting her go.

He stepped into his apartment, grabbed a water bottle, and leaned against the window, staring out at the city lights. She's oblivious, what pack is she belong to, he thought, a small grin tugging at his lips as he replayed the night in his head. The scent unmistakably of his mate. Had no doubt.