Spoiling His Reluctant Runaway Bride

It was a long holiday weekend, and the entire city was in celebration mode.

At The Grand Court Hotel, Westbridge's most extravagant venue, a dozen weddings were happening simultaneously, each one unfolding with seamless precision.

On the sixtieth floor, in a dark little utility room, Serena Dawson was nodding off from exhaustion.

Earlier that morning, while getting her makeup done downstairs, she overheard some gossip - apparently, a super exclusive wedding was taking place on the sixtieth floor. Both the bride and groom came from elite families. Especially the groom - a real legend in Westbridge.

To keep the whole thing private, the elevators were locked down past the 60th floor. No VIP badge, no entry.

That overheard gossip basically saved her. While the lobby was packed with people, she had quietly slipped off, climbed the stairs, and ducked into this room to hide.

Her parents were trying to force her to marry a man old enough to be her dad, just to cover a gambling debt of 600,000 bucks.

She never imagined there'd be a price tag on her one day, let alone a six-hundred-thousand-dollar one. How flattering.

She was in such a rush to bail she didn't even get to change. The wedding dress she was stuck in was suffocating.

She didn't know how long she'd been in there, half-asleep, before music started playing.

She flinched awake, curiosity kicking in.

Weddings like this are a first for her.

She nudged the door open just a crack, and peeked out. From her angle, she could only see the groom on stage.

And boy - he was something else. Sharp eyes, sculpted features, brows like blades, and thin lips. Tall, lean, and in that tailored suit? The man looked like he walked off a magazine cover. He practically oozed power and wealth.

That was money talking, no doubt.

But wait - why did he look so... bored? Shouldn't grooms at least pretend to smile?

"Mr. Quinn, do you take this beautiful woman, Miss Chloe Garland, as your lawfully wedded wife? To honor her, cherish her, respect and protect her, in wealth or poverty, in sickness and in health, remaining faithful and loving till death do you part?" The host was going full-on dramatic, voice echoing through the ballroom.

Then the man, Matthew Quinn, gave a crooked smile and said, "Sorry, didn't catch that. Mind repeating?"

The host was using a loud mic. No way he didn't hear. The playful look on Matthew's face made the whole place tense up. Awkward silence spread like wildfire.

The host glanced down, clearly panicking, sweat starting to bead.

He stammered, voice shaky this time: "Mr. Quinn, do you...?"

Suddenly, soft footsteps sounded from the entrance.

Serena slapped a hand over her mouth to keep quiet and scrambled up, trying to sneak off again. But the dress, that stupid long gown, tangled up underneath her.

Before she could steady herself, she tripped.

And tumbled right out onto the stage.

Everything stopped.

Eyes wide, mouth agape, the host stared at the girl now sitting on the floor in a wedding gown. Every single head in the room turned toward Serena.

Dead silence.

And then it hit her - she'd seriously messed up.

She tried to stand, but pain shot through her ankle. Damn, she must've twisted it.

All she could do was sit there awkwardly and laugh. "Haha... whoops, wrong venue."

The host jumped in fast, trying to save the moment. "Ah yes, so many weddings today! A little mix-up, folks. Let's carry on. Mr. Quinn, do you-"

"I don't." A cold voice rang out behind Serena. The same man who'd been smirking before was now all frost, no emotion in sight.

The crowd gasped.

"Matthew..." the bride called out, sounding desperate and helpless.

Serena was desperately trying to get back up and sneak away. Her heart was pounding - crap, crap, crap. She really stepped in it now.

"I want to marry her."

Matthew slowly pointed toward Serena, who was sitting on the stage floor, wincing as she gently rubbed her ankle.

An elegantly dressed older woman stood up from the crowd, face full of fury. "This is absurd!"

All eyes turned to Serena.

What the heck is going on? She pointed at herself in disbelief, totally confused.

That expressionless man didn't care about the gasps or stares. He strode up to her with those long legs, scooped her up without hesitation, and coldly muttered, "What took you so long?"

"Wait... what do you mean by that? Was I supposed to be here or something?" she thought, completely baffled.

There's no way he was in on the original wedding plan, right? The guy she was supposed to marry was old and round-this one, at least, looked like he walked out of a movie.

Tears spilled from the bride's eyes. Her voice trembled as she whispered, "Matthew, how could you do this to me?"

But Matthew didn't even flinch. Without a glance at her, he signaled to the men at the side of the stage, holding Serena like it was no big deal as he walked off.

She hadn't even wrapped her head around what was going on before she was whisked away like some kind of package.

"Hey, hey! Put me down already!" Serena frowned and shot him a glare when they got to the rooftop of the hotel.

"What's your problem? You just ditched your own wedding and now you're dragging someone else into this mess? So irresponsible!" Her words rushed out, a desperate attempt to regain some dignity.

"And you're one to talk?" His lips curled into a smirk full of sarcasm.

She instantly deflated. Yeah, she did run off her own wedding at the last second. Her mouth opened, then closed again. She couldn't argue with that, not with his overwhelming presence.

Matthew glanced at her-head lowered, fidgeting with her wedding dress, lashes trembling slightly, her narrow shoulders making her look pitiful.

His tone softened just a bit. "You can go now. I'll wire you the money. Give me an hour."

"Money? What money?" Her head snapped up, suddenly interested.

"Even if you were late, you'll still get paid." He looked at her like she was transparent, tossed the words over his shoulder, and turned to leave.

She was totally confused, completely lost. But when she remembered that she'd run off from the wedding, she realized that middle-aged man wouldn't let her go easily, and the hotel downstairs was probably crawling with people looking for her.

This arrogant guy in front of her looked like someone important. Maybe clinging to him was her only shot at getting out of here.

She rushed after him and wrapped her arms around Matthew's arm. "I don't want money, just get me out of here."

"Heh... you wouldn't believe how many women want me to take them away."

Ugh, there he goes again with that cocky attitude. Seriously, does he think he's some kind of heartthrob or what? But whatever, survival first.

Serena's eyes immediately filled with tears as she pleaded, "Please. I don't need money, I just need your help."

"Let go."

Wow. Not just full of himself, but stone cold too.

Just then, a man around Matthew's age in a black suit came over, bowed slightly to him, then leaned in to whisper something. Both of them glanced at Serena with oddly complicated looks.

Serena kept looking innocent and kept holding on to Matthew's arm, her voice soft and begging.

"You're the runaway bride from the 58th floor?"

She sneaked a quick guilty look up and nodded. "Uh... yeah? Is something wrong?"

"Because of you, the whole hotel's elevators and stairwells are shut down. Nobody we sent in could get through. You almost wrecked everything," the man in black said flatly, face stiff and voice colder than iced water.

Serena realized she'd really messed up and lowered her head in silence.

"What's your name?"

"Serena."

"Sounds peaceful."

"Yeah? Guess my parents were optimists."

A little flattery never hurts when you're trying to escape.

"No wonder you don't care about weddings. Even your name sounds indifferent."

Another stab of sarcasm from Matthew, spoken with that signature chill.

"Well, you're no better." Serena couldn't resist snapping back.

The man in black gave her a nervous glance and whispered, "Ms. Dawson, this is the CEO of Quinn Corporation."

Wait, what?! The guy who dumped the bride at the altar just so happened to be the big boss of Quinn Corporation?!

Since he's the CEO of Quinn Group, that whole cocky vibe and bossy attitude he had earlier suddenly makes a lot more sense.

Serena hadn't really looked into this guy before, but she knew about Quinn Group. It was the powerhouse in Westbridge's business world, basically running the show when it came to the local economy. Any big-name company probably had their investment backing.

Back when Serena took econ as an elective, the Quinn Group came up so often in case studies that she still vaguely remembered some things.

But now wasn't the time to overthink it. She knew full well she needed Matthew's help to get out of here, so she instantly gave in and put on her most pitiful act-teary eyes and a trembling voice: "I'm sorry, Mr. Quinn, I didn't mean to talk back to you. I've just always been a bit... reckless with my words. Too used to doing things my own way. Please don't take it to heart. You're generous, I'm sure you'll let it slide..."

"Enough," Matthew interrupted, clearly over her drama.

"What's the situation at the venue now? And that woman...?" His voice was cool, detached.

"Madam Quinn probably got worked up and didn't feel well, so I had David take her home. I've called for Dr. Eric to be there to check on her. As for the guests, I had Connor stay behind to handle things," the man in the suit reported smoothly.

Matthew nodded, satisfied with the update.

"But... Madam Quinn made it clear before she left-you have to return home tonight. If you don't show up yourself, there'll be trouble," the man added, glancing toward Serena with a very telling expression.

Matthew thought for a second, then casually threw an arm around Serena's shoulder and smirked, "I'll just take her back with me."

"Perfect, sounds great!"

Honestly, Serena didn't care what his deal was. As long as she got out of here, it was all good.

"Lucas, get the car ready in the underground lot. I'll take her to change and we'll take the private elevator down."

With that, Matthew and Serena exited The Grand Court Hotel. Since it was the Quinn family's vehicle, no one dared stop them, and Serena finally got away from the mess.

Just a few minutes after leaving the hotel, Serena caught sight of the subway station ahead and quickly perked up. "Hey, Lucas, right? Can you pull over by the subway? I can take it from there."

Lucas didn't respond. Instead, he glanced into the rearview mirror, silently waiting for direction from Matthew in the back seat.

"Trying to ditch me that fast?" Matthew said casually. "Turn around and take Ms. Dawson back to The Grand Court Hotel."

Serena's survival instincts kicked in immediately. "No!" she blurted out, then scrambled to gather herself and forced a sweet smile. "You're my life-saver, Mr. Quinn. Whatever you say goes."

Matthew raised an eyebrow, his voice cool. "Come home with me."

Serena froze. "Huh? Go... home?"

"You just said I'm your life-saver," he said, his tone teasing. "So if your rescuer's in a bit of trouble, shouldn't you make a tiny sacrifice and help out?"

Seeing the mischievous look on his face, Serena instinctively hugged her arms and narrowed her eyes. "What exactly do you mean by help out...?"

Matthew leaned in slightly, lifting her chin with his fingers. "Offer yourself to me, of course."

"Pervert!" Serena snapped, shoving his hand away, her cheeks flaming red. She shot an annoyed glare at Lucas, who was clearly trying to stifle a laugh.

Matthew couldn't help but chuckle. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, blessed with both looks and status, he had women falling for him left and right-elegant socialites or sultry vamps who all knew how to play the game. But this bashful, honest girl? He'd never met one like her.

Serena felt so thrown off by his teasing that she couldn't even get a word out, and just stared out the window in silence.

The car slowed briefly as a soft "beep" sounded, and the automatic gate began to slide open.

It was only then that Serena noticed how dark it had gotten. The car had pulled into a massive courtyard, right next to a fountain between the gate and the villa.

Before her stood a standalone white mansion, five stories tall, lined with crabapple trees along the walls. Smack in the center of the grand entrance was a huge golden "Quinn" emblem.

Serena looked up at the imposing house, her legs suddenly a little weak. The walls looked over two meters high-good luck trying to climb out if she needed to flee.