The Hot Widower Next Door

Cherry’s POV The hum of New York never really slept, but that morning it felt louder than usual — like the city knew my life was about to change. My heels clacked against the marble floors of Grant Publishing, and I tucked a strand of dark hair behind my ear, forcing my heart to steady as I approached Mr. Grant’s office. I’d worked here since I was nineteen, clawing my way from intern to investigative journalist. I’d written about corporate scandals, corrupt senators, even underground crime syndicates. But nothing prepared me for the envelope he slid across the desk that morning. “Vollmond,” he said simply, leaning back in his leather chair. “I want you there by next week.” I blinked. “Vollmond?” Mr. Grant’s steel-gray eyes held mine. “The city’s been in the headlines for months — disappearances, strange cult activity, whispers about wolves. The board wants a full investigative series. You’re the best we’ve got.” I almost laughed. “Wolves? Sir, you know I don’t write fairy tales.” “This isn’t folklore, Cherry.” He folded his hands. “Something is happening there. People are scared. And if there’s even a thread of truth to it, I want you to pull it. Hard.” I nodded, even though I still thought the whole thing was ridiculous. Werewolves? Please. Monsters belonged in bedtime stories, not front-page features. Still, a part of me thrilled at the challenge — Vollmond was notorious for keeping its secrets. If I could expose whatever was lurking beneath its gothic surface, it’d cement my career. I walked out of his office with the assignment clutched tightly in my hands and a growing knot of anticipation in my stomach. The first person I needed to tell was Ty. When I stepped into our apartment later that night, Ty was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, cooking dinner like he always did when I’d had a long day. His smile faltered when he saw my face. “Bad day?” he asked, setting down the wooden spoon. I shook my head. “Mr. Grant wants me to cover a story in Vollmond.” The smile vanished completely. “Vollmond?” “Yeah.” I leaned against the counter, watching his jaw tighten. “He wants a full report. It’s a big deal, Ty. It could change everything for my career.” He was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t like it.” I sighed. “You don’t like anything that takes me out of your sight.” “This isn’t about that.” His eyes darkened — that strange, unreadable way they sometimes did. “Vollmond isn’t safe. There are things there you don’t understand.” I rolled my eyes. “You mean the werewolf crap? Ty, I’ve told you — I don’t believe in that nonsense. And even if I did, I’m a journalist. Danger is part of the job.” “Then let me come with you,” he said immediately. “No.” I stepped closer, brushing my fingers against his cheek. “I need to do this on my own. If I’m going to prove myself, I can’t run to you every time something looks scary.” His mouth tightened into a thin line. “At least stay with my friend Ryder. He’s got a place there. You’d be safer.” “Ty—” “Please, Cherry.” I shook my head. “I want my own space. My own agency. You know how much that means to me.” He sighed, frustration warring with affection in his eyes. “Then promise me you’ll call. Every day. No matter what.” “I promise.” It was Jane who called the next morning — Ty’s older sister, and my unofficial bodyguard ever since he and I started dating. “Are you sure about this?” she asked over coffee, her piercing blue eyes scanning my face. “Ty told me about the assignment.” “I’m sure,” I said, smiling. “You don’t have to worry about me, Jane.” “Oh, but I do.” Her tone softened. “You’re family now, Cherry. And Vollmond… it’s not like New York. People there keep to themselves. Outsiders don’t always come back the same.” I laughed lightly. “You and Ty sound like you’re reading from the same horror novel.” Jane’s lips curved. “Maybe we are. Just… watch your back, okay?” “I always do.” Weeks passed as I wrapped up projects and prepared for the move. Ty tried more than once to change my mind, but he eventually gave up — or maybe he realized nothing would stop me once I’d set my heart on something. Then, one evening as I was scrolling through listings, I saw it: a small apartment on the outskirts of Vollmond, close enough to the city center but tucked away from the chaos. I called Ty immediately. “I found a place.” Silence. Then a heavy sigh. “Cherry…” “I know, I know,” I said quickly. “You’re worried. But it’s perfect — quiet, affordable, and I won’t have to bother anyone.” “I still don’t like you being alone.” “I’ll call you every day,” I reminded him gently. “Morning and night. I’ll even video chat if that makes you feel better.” He was quiet for a moment before finally relenting. “Fine. But if anything — anything — feels off, you get out of there. Promise me.” “Promise.” Our last night together before I left was quieter than usual. We cooked dinner, watched one of our favorite old movies, and held each other a little longer than necessary. As the clock edged closer to midnight, Ty pulled me into his arms, his breath warm against my ear. “I hate this,” he murmured. “I know,” I whispered. “But I’ll come back. I always do.” He cupped my face and kissed me — soft at first, then deeper, with a desperation that made my chest ache. His lips moved against mine like he was trying to memorize the shape of them, the taste, the feel. I melted into him, fingers curling into his shirt as the world fell away for just a heartbeat. “Be safe,” he breathed when we finally pulled apart. “I will.” The next morning, I boarded a flight bound for a city that, until then, had only existed in headlines and whispered legends. Vollmond greeted me with brooding skies and architecture that looked centuries old, every street steeped in secrets. The air was colder, too, sharp with pine and rain and something else — something feral I couldn’t quite name. I followed the narrow cobblestone path from the station to the small apartment I’d rented. My suitcase rattled behind me as I walked, my heart thudding with the thrill of independence and the faintest hint of nerves. The building was older than I expected — ivy crawling up stone walls, wrought-iron balconies shadowing the windows. It was beautiful, in a dark and forgotten sort of way. I climbed the stairs and turned the final corner and that was when I saw him, an illuminous sculptor in form of a human being standing just in the sun, his eyes piercing into my skin. My jaw dropped. I'd never seen someone as handsomely beautiful and smoking hot like this before.