Betrayed and Claimed by the Lycan King Chapter 274

Isolde's POV

I stared at the handsome stranger in front of me, my brain slowly processing what he'd just said.

"Wait... you're *the* Daryl Fields?" My voice came out higher than intended. "The designer who won the Fashion Design Competition five years ago when he was only twenty?"

His smile widened, and damn, it was a killer smile. "Guilty as charged."

*Holy shit,* I thought, my heart racing. This was like meeting a fucking legend. Daryl Fields was basically the boy wonder of the fashion world—a certified genius who'd revolutionized modern design with his innovative techniques and bold concepts.

"Mr. Fields," I managed, trying to sound professional despite feeling like a total fangirl, "it's an absolute honor to meet you." I took a deep breath, deciding to be completely honest. "I love your work. What you achieved at such a young age is incredibly inspiring! You're absolutely amazing!"

He actually blushed, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "You're making me blush here," he laughed. "But seriously, your designs are unique and absolutely stunning. I'm a huge fan of your work."

*He knows my work?* My knees nearly gave out. This was surreal. Daryl fucking Fields knew who I was and liked my designs. I felt like I might pass out from excitement.

"This is... wow. I can't believe this is happening," I said, probably grinning like an idiot.

"Well, believe it," he said, his eyes sparkling with what looked like genuine interest. Then his expression shifted slightly, becoming more hesitant. "Look, I hope this doesn't sound too forward, but... could I maybe get your phone number?"

"My... phone number?"

"Yeah," he continued, looking almost nervous for the first time. "I was wondering if I could... uh... take you out sometime. Maybe dinner?"

"Of course," I heard myself say. "I'd like that."

"Fantastic," he grinned, pulling out his phone.

"Perfect," he said after I gave him my number, slipping his phone back into his jacket. "How about I walk you back to your table? Can't have your brother thinking I've kidnapped you or anything. I need to make sure I return you to him in one piece, or he might kick my ass next time we meet."

I burst out laughing at that. "Trust me, Holden's bark is worse than his bite."

"Somehow I doubt that," Daryl said with a chuckle as we walked back toward the restaurant entrance.

---

When we reached our table, Holden was already seated, studying his menu with an expression that could have frozen hell over. He looked up as we approached, his eyes moving between Daryl and me with obvious suspicion.

"Thanks again for the lovely conversation," Daryl said to me, then nodded politely at Holden. "Nice meeting you both. Enjoy your dinner."

After he left, I slid into my seat, probably still glowing from the encounter. Holden immediately fixed me with that knowing look he did so well.

"So," he said, "looks like you've got yourself an admirer."

"He's not an admirer," I protested, though I could feel heat creeping up my neck.

"Right," Holden said dryly. "Of course not!"

I shot him a glare, but he just looked like he was enjoying himself way too much. "Did you bring me out here just to mock me all night?"

"Making fun of you is pretty entertaining," he replied with a shrug.

*Asshole,* I thought, but I couldn't really be mad.

---

About thirty minutes later, our food arrived, and I had to admit, Holden had picked well. The restaurant really was excellent. I was cutting into my salmon when I noticed a particularly delicious-looking piece of steak on Holden's plate.

Without thinking, I reached over with my fork to snag it.

"Hey!" he protested, pulling his plate away. "Get your own damn food!"

"Come on, just one bite," I wheedled, leaning across the table.

"You literally have an entire meal in front of you."

"But yours looks better."

"That's because you always want what someone else has."

"That's not true!" I said, finally managing to spear the piece of steak and pop it into my mouth before he could stop me.

"Thief," he muttered, but he was fighting a smile.

After dinner, Holden surprised me by suggesting we drive around the city instead of heading straight back to the villa. As we wound through the streets, I couldn't help but notice something odd.

"How do you know where you're going?" I asked, watching him navigate turns without hesitation.

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't looked at a map once, and you seem to know exactly where every street leads." I studied his profile. "You've been here before, haven't you?"

Holden's jaw tightened slightly, but he didn't answer.

"Holden," I pressed. "How many times have you been to this city?"

"Drop it, Isolde."

"Mom doesn't know, does she? If she found out you'd been coming here without telling anyone, she'd have a heart attack."

He still didn't respond, but the muscle in his jaw twitched, confirming my suspicions.

About an hour later, Holden suddenly pulled into a parking lot outside what looked like a pretty upscale club.

"Want to grab a few drinks?" he asked casually. "This place looks decent."

I stared at him. "Holden, this isn't a good idea."

"It's the weekend, the competition doesn't start until Monday. You need to do something fun before you get buried in competition stress. Stop overthinking it!" he said, already getting out of the car.

Before I could protest further, he'd somehow sweet-talked the bouncer—probably with money, knowing Holden—and we were inside.

The club hit me like a wave. Dim lighting, pounding music, people dancing and drinking and smoking. The air was thick with perfume and alcohol and something else I couldn't quite identify. I found myself standing next to the bar, overwhelmed by the sensory assault.

"Here," Holden said, appearing beside me with two glasses. "Your drink."

"What is it?" I asked, accepting the glass reluctantly.

"Espresso martini. Perfect nightlife fuel for young people."

I took a cautious sip. The combination of vodka and coffee was actually pretty good—smooth and energizing at the same time.

"So," Holden said, leaning against the bar, "first time in a club?"

"Yeah," I answered, deciding that my experiences at Silver Moon Group didn't really count.

"Sounds like this isn't your first time in a place like this?" I asked, studying his too-casual expression.

"Definitely not. I've been to a few already. That's how I was able to get us in so easily."

My eyebrows shot up. "How is that possible? You only turned eighteen a month ago. How were you getting into places like this?"

"Why would I tell you that?" he replied with a smirk.

"Holden!" I exclaimed, swatting his arm. "What other bad shit have you been doing behind our backs?"

"Oh, you don't want to know," he said mysteriously.

"I do want to know..." I paused, a terrible thought occurring to me. "Wait... do you have a girlfriend?"

"No, I don't."

I definitely didn't believe that answer.

*Your little brother is full of secrets,* Lyra observed with amusement.

*Tell me something I don't know,* I replied silently.