A flicker of recognition crosses his face before it’s replaced with a carefully blank expression. He blinks at me as if seeing me for the first time.
“Hey there. You must be Trinity. I’m Kyren.” He extends his hand casually, as if we’re perfect strangers.
The rejection stings all over again. I remember how desperate I’d been after that heat-breaking session, how I’d practically begged the agency to pair us again. They’d eventually told me he’d specifically requested not to see me again.
Two can play this game.
I straighten my spine and take his hand, ignoring the familiar electric current that shoots up my arm at his touch. “Nice to meet you, Kyren. I see you’ve made yourself comfortable.”
“Yeah, the others are here, too. They went to check out the pool.” He withdraws his hand quickly, shoving it into his pocket. “Sweet digs, right?”
I nod, maintaining a professional smile while my mind races. So this is the mysterious fourth alpha Matheo mentioned—the one Cash seemed so reluctant about. What are the odds? And why would he agree to this arrangement if he found me so detestable?
“The welcome dinner starts in three hours,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “I need to shower and change. Please continue to make yourself at home. There are some details we need to discuss, but I’ll wait until everyone is back.”
His eyes drift over me briefly, and I catch a hint of something—regret, maybe desire?—before he masks it with indifference.
“Cool, cool. I’ll just...” He gestures vaguely toward the living area. “Hang out till everyone gets back”
I walk past him toward the bedroom, feeling his eyes on my back. The air between us crackles with chemistry that is obviously only physical. Clearly, I did something during our heat-breaking session to turn him off. Asking for details at this point would just be unnecessarily excruciating.
I close the bedroom door behind me and lean against it, letting out a long breath. The bedroom is just as luxurious as the main living area. And right in the center sits a bed so massive, it makes my queen-size at home look like a child’s cot.
“Holy...” I whisper, staring at the expanse of crisp white linens and plush pillows.
It’s clearly designed for multiple people to sleepcomfortably. The implications hit me like a wave—this is where we’re all supposed to sleep. Together. The thought sends an unexpected flutter through my stomach that I immediately try to squash.
Four sets of luggage are arranged neatly in the corner, including my suitcase, which must have been delivered while I was working. Seeing their bags lined up together—evidence of four alphas who are supposed to be mine—makes this charade suddenly feel very real.
I move to the window, pushing aside gauzy white curtains to reveal a stunning view of the beach. The lanai extends from the bedroom, featuring an outdoor leisure space featuring a wicker table and comfortable chairs. I imagine having breakfast out there, surrounded by four attentive men, all focused on me.
It’s a fantasy I’ve never allowed myself to indulge in—not since Egret, Brendin, and Saren walked out on me.
My gaze drifts back to the bed. For the next week, I’ll be sharing this intimate space with four virtual strangers. Four men who agreed to this arrangement for their own reasons—none of which involve actually wanting me.
Especially Kyren.
Now that I know his name, the hazy recollections of our time together are even easier to pull up in my mind.
The memory of our heat-breaking session six months ago floods back. The way he’d touched me, whispered in my ear, made me feel like I was the only omega in the world. I’d been so certain there was a genuine connection—enough that I’d called the agency three times trying to book him again.
Only to be told he’d specifically refused any future appointments.
And now he’s pretending we’ve never met. Is heembarrassed? Regretful? Or was I just another forgettable client to him?
I sink onto the edge of the bed, my fingers absently tracing patterns on the silky duvet. The rejection stings all over again, made worse because I’ll have to spend the next week pretending to be madly in love with him and the others.
“Get it together, Trinity,” I mutter, pushing myself up. “This is business. Nothing more.”
I head toward the en-suite bathroom, needing that cold water more than ever. As I pass a full-length mirror, I catch sight of my reflection—tired eyes, hair falling out of its professional updo, clothes wrinkled from hours of work. I look like someone being interviewed right after a tornado blew through.
No wonder Kyren didn’t want to see me again. No wonder my exes chose my sister instead.
I’m halfway through changing out of the sweat-sticky linen jumpsuit I wore on the plane when I hear deep voices and laughter echoing from the living room. My heart jumps to my throat. The rest of my new pack is back. I frantically tug on my wrinkled sundress and pivot to the mirror.
“Oh god,” I whisper.
The woman staring back at me looks like she’s been dragged backward through a hedge. My mascara has smudged beneath my eyes, my foundation has practically evaporated in the tropical humidity, and my hair—my poor hair—is currently doing its best impression of a fluffy cloud around my head.
