CHAPTER ONE
Zoe
Iwake to the sensation of being slowly crushed to death.
Literally.
There’s a weight on my chest that’s making it difficult to breathe, and something heavy is pinning my legs to the mattress.
My eyelids feel like they’re glued shut, but I force them open anyway, blinking against the assault of sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows I definitely don’t recognize.Where am I?The first thing I see is an exposed ceiling beam that soars at least twenty feet above me.
What the actual fuck?
I try to move and realize the weight on my chest is an arm. A very muscular, very male arm. The heavy thing pinning my legs is a thigh. Also muscular. Also male.
My mind is trying to buffer the events of the night before on a dial-up connection. All I’m getting is static, a screeching sound, and a few frozen frames.
I remember the art gala. That delicious champagne that keptmagically appearing in my hand. Dancing with... someone. Many someones? The Sterling brothers. They offered me a ride home because I couldn’t stand straight. Then nothing.
I turn my head slowly, fighting against what feels like the mother of all hangovers, and come face to face with Rett Sterling—CEO of Sterling Solutions, notorious control freak, and alpha of alphas. His face is relaxed in sleep, all those hard lines softened, dark lashes fanned against his cheeks.
He’sgorgeous. And naked. And wrapped around me like I’m his favorite teddy bear.
Oh…wait, wait, wait. Rewind.RettSterling?! Ohshit.
I carefully scan the rest of the king bed I’m trapped in and count three more sleeping men. Each Sterling brother is positioned around me, creating a protective formation that would be touching if it weren’t so fucking terrifying.
Tristan Sterling, their tech and PR genius, is sprawled on his back on my other side, one hand resting possessively on my hip. Diego, whom I’d pegged as the pack’s anchor, has his face buried in my hair, his body curled behind Tristan. And at the foot of the bed, Dane, the silent blonde who is the pack’s head of security, has his cheek resting on my thigh, his arms wrapped securely around my calves.
Four alphas. One bed. And me: their apparently communal beta one-night stand.
What the fuck, Zoe?
My heart thunders in my chest as I carefully extricate myself from the tangle of limbs, holding my breath when Rett’s arm tightens momentarily before he rolls onto his other side with a soft grunt. I slip out of the bed like I’m diffusing a bomb.
The cool air hits my bare skin, and I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly aware of how sore I am.Everywhere. My inner thighs burn pleasantly, and there’s a delicious ache between my legs that tells me exactly how thoroughly I was enjoyed last night.
By four men. Fouralphamen. TheSterlingPack.
In all my twenty-six years, I’ve never—fuck! I should be horrified. I should be grabbing my clothes and running for the door. Instead, something dark and satisfied purrs inside me, and I have to physically shake myself to snap out of it.
Get it together, Zoe.You’re a beta, not some omega who goes into heat at the first whiff of alpha pheromones. You have a life, a job, and standards… I grimace.Standards that definitely don’t include waking up in a pack orgy, no matter how mind-blowingly hot they all are.
I tiptoe across the obscenely plush carpet, searching for my clothes. I find my bra hanging from a doorknob and one shoe under a sleek armchair. The other shoe is mysteriously missing, along with my underwear and dress.
Great. I’ll just add that to the list of mortifications I’ll be processing later.
My eyes dart around the massive room, frantically searching for my dress, for an exit, for anything. But all I see is expensive taste. Modern art hangs on the walls, and sleek Italian leather furniture is positioned perfectly to take advantage of the floor-to-ceiling view. This isn’t just a penthouse; it’s a fortress of wealth, and my little black dress is nowhere in sight.
New plan. Bathroom. Now.
I spot a door across the vast space and inch toward it, praying it’s not a closet full of bespoke suits. I slip inside, closing the heavy door behind me with a barely audible click, and lean against the cool wood.
My hand finds the light switch. I flip it on and immediately regret the decision as a spike of pain lances through my skull. Blinking against the sudden glare, I take in the space.
The bathroom, like everything else in this place, is ridiculous. Marble everything, a shower big enough for a basketball team, and a soaking tub that looks like it belongs in a Roman palace.
I stumble toward what looks like a marble altar but turns out to be a vanity with two sinks. I lean over one of the basins, fumbling with the faucet. Cold water rushes over my hands. Isplash it on my face, the shock of it a welcome jolt to my foggy brain.
