Chapter 12
TWELVE
TRINITY
The seaplane descends toward Heat Island, and my stomach drops faster than our altitude. Below us, the resort sprawls across the private island like something from a travel magazine—pristine beaches, crystalline waters, and luxury villas nestled among tropical foliage.
“Look, Trin!” Josie presses her face against the window, pointing excitedly. “It’s even more beautiful than the pictures!”
I manage a weak smile while mentally scrolling through my to-do list. Six days to coordinate a destination wedding for three alphas I hate and my beloved sister.
The itinerary alone makes me want to hyperventilate—welcome dinner, rehearsal, bachelor and bachelorette parties, ceremony setup, reception planning, not to mention the daily activities for over a hundred guests.
The plane touches down on water with a gentle splash. Josie claps her hands like a child.
“We’re here! I can’t believe this is happening!”
Neither can I, but for entirely different reasons.
Resort staff greet us at the dock with fresh flower leis and coconut drinks. The head concierge, a polished beta named Irwan, bows slightly.
“Ms. Jones, we’ve been expecting you. Your sister’s wedding is our highest priority this week.”
Translation: Egret, Brendin, and Saren threw an obscene amount of money at them.
“Thank you.” I slip into professional mode. “I’ll need to review the event spaces as soon as possible.”
“Of course. After you’re settled, I can?—”
“Now would be preferable.” I check my watch. “Guests start arriving tomorrow, so I need to finalize the setup today.”
Irwan blinks, clearly not used to guests prioritizing work over welcome massages. “As you wish. Your luggage will be delivered to your accommodations.”
Josie loops her arm through mine. “Trin, you just got here. Can’t you relax for five minutes?”
“This is your wedding, pussycat. I need to make sure everything’s perfect.”
“But you look so stressed already.”
I force my shoulders to relax. “I’m fine. Just excited to get started.”
A lie. What I actually feel is pure, unadulterated panic. I’ve planned hundreds of events, but never one where I had to simultaneously coordinate a wedding, pretend to be happily mated to four men I barely know, and face three exes who dumped me and are now marrying my sister.
Irwan leads us along a winding path. “Your sister’s alphas have arranged a special villa for you, Ms. Jones—the Orchid Villa. It’s one of our premium accommodations for larger parties.”
My steps falter. “Larger parties?”
“For you and your pack, of course.” He smiles pleasantly. “The alphas were quite specific that you should have adequate space.”
Of course they were. They’re probably hoping I’ll have a meltdown when my pack doesn’t arrive and I have to explain why I’m taking up an extra-large villa all by myself.
Josie squeezes my arm. “That’s so thoughtful of them! When are your alphas arriving, Trin?”
“Later today.” At least, I hope so. I haven’t actually confirmed their arrival time.
In fact, the final contract still hasn’t shown up in my inbox. I know we were waiting on the last member of their pack to get back into town to sign, but that still hasn’t happened.
And I’m not nervous about that at all. Checking my email regularly is just a habit. I didn’t pay $29.99 plus tax for Wi-Fi on our overnight flight just because I was hoping to see an email from Elite Comfort Services in my inbox.
I’m fine. This is all fine.
We reach a sprawling open-air pavilion overlooking the ocean. “This is our main event space,” Irwan explains. “It can be configured for both the ceremony and reception.”
The venue is stunning—bamboo columns draped with sheer white fabric, panoramic ocean views, and a polished hardwood floor. Under different circumstances, I’d be thrilled.
Instead, I pull out my tablet and start taking notes, measuring the space with quick steps. “We’ll need to reconfigure these tables for the welcome dinner tomorrow. And the floral arrangements should complement the natural setting, nothing too structured.”
“Actually, the welcome dinner needs to be tonight.”
I whip around to face Josie, my tablet nearly slipping from my grip. “I’m sorry, what did you just say? ”
“The welcome dinner is tonight.” Josie’s smile is radiant, oblivious to my internal meltdown. “Egret texted me just before we left. They finished their business trip early and caught an earlier flight. Isn’t that great?”
My heart hammers against my ribs. “Tonight? As in... tonight tonight?”
“Seven o’clock! I already confirmed with Mom and Dad that they could make it early too.” She clasps her hands together. “Everyone’s going to be here in just a few hours!”
I force my face into what I hope resembles a smile rather than a grimace. “And you didn’t think to tell me that earlier?”
“With everything going on, I guess I just forgot. And you already said your pack will be here soon, right? It only makes sense to move up all the wedding festivities since we’ll all be here. That’s not a problem, right Irwan?”
Irwan—obsequious little toad that he is clearly paid well to be—hastily assures her there are no problems at all.
My mind races through a mental checklist that’s suddenly on fire. I have approximately eight hours to prepare a welcome dinner that I thought I had over twenty-four hours to organize, and my fake alphas—who may or may not even show up—now need to be here tonight instead of tomorrow.
“Is everything okay?” Josie touches my arm.
“Perfect. Just mentally rearranging some things.” I tap furiously on my tablet. “Irwan, did you get the email I sent last week with dietary needs? I still need to approve the menus.”
Inside, I’m screaming into a void. My exes will be here in hours, and my fake pack is probably still somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, assuming they’re even on the way at all, completely unaware that they’re about to walk into the lion’s den.
While measuring the space, I casually swipe over to my email app. No new messages. I refresh the screen. Still nothing.
“Shit!” The curse escapes before I can stop it.
Josie whips her head around, concern flooding her face. “What’s wrong? Is there a problem with the venue?”
I quickly close my email app. “No, no. Everything’s fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.” She approaches, peering at my tablet. “Is something wrong with the wedding plans?”
“Just realized I forgot to email the florist about substituting peonies for roses if they can’t source enough.” The lie rolls off my tongue with practiced ease. “Nothing major.”
“You scared me!” Josie playfully swats my arm. “I thought something terrible had happened.”
Something terrible is happening. My fake alphas haven’t confirmed they’re coming, and I’m going to look like a complete idiot when I show up to the first wedding party event all alone.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got everything under control.” I squeeze her hand reassuringly. “That’s why I’m here early, to handle any minor hiccups before they become actual problems.”
If only she knew the biggest hiccup might be her sister’s complete humiliation when her imaginary pack fails to materialize.
Josie wanders to the edge of the pavilion. “It’s perfect, isn’t it?”
I look at my sister’s radiant face and feel a stab of guilt. This should be the happiest week of her life, and here I am, drowning in my own drama.
“It is perfect,” I agree, forcing enthusiasm into my voice. “And it’s going to be the most beautiful wedding this island has ever seen.”
Even if it kills me.
I swipe my keycard and push through the door, letting my shoulder bag slide to the floor with a satisfying thud.
After five hours of rearranging tables, arguing with the florist, and triple-checking place settings, my entire body aches.
The welcome dinner starts in three hours, and I still haven’t heard from my hired alphas.
“Wow,” I breathe, momentarily distracted by the suite.
Floor-to-ceiling windows frame a panoramic ocean view.
The living area features plush couches in soothing coastal blues, a formal dining room with a half-dozen chairs around the shiny mahogany table, a fully stocked kitchen and bar, and a wrap-around lanai with unobstructed sea views.
A closed door must lead to the bedroom, which I can only assume has one of those massive pack-sized beds that I always see advertised on television.
A closet full of nesting materials and the emergency heat kit in the kitchen confirm my suspicions.
This is a pack suite. The kind designed specifically for an omega and multiple mates.
I run my fingers along the back of a leather armchair, imagining what it would be like to actually share this space with alphas who wanted me—not as a business arrangement, but as their omega. The thought sends an unexpected pang through my chest .
This would be a perfect situation if I actually had a pack to share the experience with me.
Kicking off my sandals, I head toward the closed door of what must be the entryway bathroom.
My skin feels tight with dried sweat, and all I want is a hot shower and twenty minutes of unconsciousness before I have to face the disaster that is tonight, but I’ll have to settle for splashing water on my face given the time.
The sound of a toilet flushing freezes me mid-step.
I freeze, heart hammering, as the bathroom door swings open. A tall man with messy dark hair steps out, wiping his hands on his black wash jeans. He looks up, and we both stare like startled animals.
My stomach drops as I recognize the sharp jawline, mischievous green eyes, and that distinctive neck tattoo that reads RUIN . It’s him—the alpha from my last heat-breaking service six months ago. The one who never returned my calls and refused a second appointment despite our intense chemistry.
“You,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
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.