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The Paragon

Reid

Reid had chosen the Paragon for its distance from his father’s building, hoping to avoid encountering pack members. He let the valet take his Porsche and strolled into the grand foyer. Despite his casualness, his eyes swept the patrons lingering in the lounge chairs or checking in at reception, looking for any familiar faces, or any werewolves who might know his.

He was in luck, there was no one he knew or who seemed to recognize him, and he reached the safety of the reception desk where, with his back to the room, he was less conspicuous. “A booking for Jasper Compton,” he said quietly. “The second party will be arriving soon.” He paid cash for the room and extras, pulling the thick wad of notes out and waiting with itchy impatience whilst the clerk laboriously counted and double-counted her way through them, his skin crawling as if every eye in the foyer was on his back.

Finally, she was content that he’d paid the full amount and gave him one of the key passes and directions to
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