The Billionaire Werewolf’s Hidden Mate

Chapter 2

Since Jimmy had stayed up late gaming the night before, he hadn’t gotten enough rest. To avoid the stress of driving, we decided to take the train to Geneva, where the hotel’s shuttle bus would pick us up.

The two-hour train ride passed quickly. Once we boarded the shuttle, it wasn’t long before we arrived at the hot spring resort.

At the front desk, our department boss had his assistant handle check-in. Soon, she returned with our room keys.

Due to budget constraints, everyone was assigned standard rooms—no private hot spring baths. If we wanted to soak in the hot springs, we’d have to use the public ones. But I didn’t mind, I was already excited.

Eagerly, I pulled Jimmy along to check out our room.

It wasn’t particularly large, about the size of a typical hotel room. One wall was made entirely of glass, leading to a small balcony with a cozy outdoor table and chairs.

The receptionist had mentioned that we could order room service and enjoy breakfast out on the terrace in the morning.

Stepping outside, I caught a glimpse of another balcony just beyond the tall hedge separating us from the neighboring rooms. Unlike ours, that balcony had a private hot spring pool.

Those must be the high-end suites, I mused.

Turning back to Jimmy, I suggested, “Let’s have dinner at the hotel restaurant tonight and we can check out the resort’s facilities.”

“Whatever. "I don’t care,” he replied flatly. His expression made it clear—he wasn’t excited about this trip at all.

His lack of enthusiasm dampened my own. With a sigh, I changed into a comfortable long dress and a pair of flat shoes. Tying my hair back loosely, I applied a light layer of makeup before stepping out with him.

As we walked through the resort grounds, something caught my eye.

The hot springs were nothing like I had imagined. I had expected one large shared pool, but instead, there were multiple smaller ones, each varying in size and color. Curious, I stepped closer and realized that each pool was infused with different natural elements—rose petals, lavender, milk baths, and more.

Following the signs toward the restaurant, a sudden movement ahead made me stop.

A large, imposing figure dashed past the pathway. My curiosity piqued, I quickened my pace and soon spotted it—a massive dog.

“Jimmy, look! There’s a dog here,” I said excitedly, tugging on his sleeve.

“A dog? In a five-star hotel? Off-leash? That’s unacceptable. We should report this.” Jimmy frowned.

I rolled my eyes. Men are impossible to understand sometimes.

Before I could say anything, we arrived at the restaurant, and my frustration was momentarily forgotten.

Nestled amidst lush greenery, the restaurant blended seamlessly into its surroundings, like a hidden sanctuary.

Inside, the ambiance was an exquisite balance of nature and elegance—polished wooden floors, earthy tones, and handcrafted rattan chandeliers that cast a warm, golden glow across the space. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a breathtaking view of the Alpine glaciers, where a gentle stream flowed in the distance. The crisp, mountain air carried the fresh scent of blooming flowers, mingled with the faint, earthy aroma of rain-kissed soil.

For the first time since we arrived, I felt a spark of anticipation. Maybe... this trip will give me a wonderful experience.

Tonight I was dressed for the evening—a floor-length, velvet halter dress in deep wine red. My black curls were styled into playful waves, adorned with a matching red velvet hairband. To my surprise, my look blended perfectly with the restaurant’s refined décor.

The host at the restaurant’s front desk led us to our seats. After placing our orders, the waiter turned to ask what we’d like to drink.

Jimmy chose mineral water.

Tilting my head elegantly, I took a sip of the freshly poured red wine, swirling it gently in my glass before glancing at Jimmy across the table.

"Do you like this place?" I asked.

Jimmy frowned. "Lilith, why are you drinking again? Did you even ask me before ordering that?" His voice took on an irritated edge. "You know I hate the smell of alcohol that comes from your mouth."

He shot me a look of disgust before lowering his head and pulling out his phone, his attention already elsewhere.

I didn’t respond.

Experience had taught me that arguing was pointless. A year and a half of marriage had drilled into me the art of avoidance—knowing when to stay silent to prevent a fight from spiraling into an endless debate where I was always in the wrong.