Chapter 4 Sharon
SHARON
After the time I had with Jett yesterday, I should be more relaxed, but planning this wedding is stressing me out and makes me feel as if I'm completely out of my league. So, I leave the hotel room behind. No more working in isolation. I head to the office.
By the time I make it back there, I've had approximately four panic attacks, eaten an entire bag of gas-station chips, and convinced myself that this job was a mistake. A beautiful, terrible, catastrophic mistake that's going to end with me living in a cardboard box under a bridge somewhere.
I smell like a smoothie that's having an emotional breakdown.
The office is quiet when I arrive. I sit down at my desk and stare at my computer screen like it might have answers. It doesn't. It just has a blinking cursor that's mocking me.
Jessica is supposed to call within the hour. It's been forty-five minutes. Jett is supposed to help, but I can't wait around for him to show and Savannah recommended Jessica.
I've reorganized my desk three times. I've color-coded my files by bride name, even though there's only one bride in the system and she's currently ghosting me. I've made a spreadsheet tracking the RSVPs that said no because apparently when my brain panics, it organizes.
It's a coping mechanism.
I'm mid-reorganization of my pen collection when my phone buzzes.
When I receive a text from Cassian.
"Savannah told us about the wedding situation. We're both off today. We want to help."
My heart does a weird flip.
Both. As in more than Jett. Great. Two Alphas are going to see me in full panic mode.
Before I can process that, another text lights up the screen, but this time it's from their brother, Pine. The tattoo artist. The one with sleeve tattoos who makes my stomach flip every time he looks at me.
My pulse kicks up just seeing his name on my screen. Which is ridiculous. It's a text message, not a marriage proposal.
But there's something about Pine that gets under my skin in ways I'm not ready to examine. The way he moves, or how his voice drops when he's focused on something.
I tap the message open, my fingers suddenly clumsy.
How the heck did they all get my number?
Silly question. Answer: Savannah.
"Closed the shop early. Vale's helping. ETA 15 minutes."
I stare at the message like it's written in another language. Vale helps Pine run his tattoo shop.
All three of them. Cassian, Jett, and Pine.
Savannah apparently called everyone and told them I'm a disaster.
I glance around the office. It's small but professional. Organized. Clean. Which is great except I suddenly care very much about how it looks, and about how I look, and about the fact that I'm still wearing the same sweater from earlier with the coffee stain I tried to hide with my blazer.
I'm spiraling so hard that I don't hear the door open until Cassian's voice cuts through my internal meltdown.
"Sharon. You good?"
I look up, and there's Cassian in my doorway, and Jesus Christ, he's even taller in the small office.
He has to duck slightly under the frame like the building wasn't designed for humans his size.
Leather jacket, despite the warm weather.
Dark hair slightly messy, like he's been running his hands through it.
His gray eyes are focused entirely on me.
"Define good," I say, because apparently I have zero filter today.
"Good means you're still standing." He steps inside like he owns the room, pulls out the chair across from my desk, and sits. Suddenly he's taking up most of the oxygen.
"Where are we at?" he says.
We. When did we become we?
"There's nothing to talk about," I lie. "I have a wedding that doesn't exist and a bride who's ghosting me and a groom who's my ex and a job that's imploding and apparently I can't handle any of it. Flowers which haven't been chosen nor bought. The same with the photographer, menu everything."
"Easy. Slow down," a voice adds from the doorway.
I turn.
Jett stands there, carrying coffee cups. His hair is still styled back. He sets a cup in front of me without asking.
"Oat milk. Three sugars," he says. "I remembered."
My throat gets tight when he looks at me like he did yesterday. Lust. Ready to fuck my mouth. Ready to get down and dirty.
Cassian smirks. "Go get a room. Wait, did you two?"
I shake my head fast. "No. Absolutely not."
Jett raises an eyebrow. "Defensive much?"
"Well, for someone who did an absolutely not, you seem a little defensive," Cassian adds.
Good. Perfect. Now I feel very small and very squished between giants.
Where is Jessica so this conversation can move away from my nonexistent love life and back to the disaster wedding no one wants to attend?
"Relax, Sharon." Jett moves closer and puts a hand on my shoulder. "He's just teasing."
Which is great, except now I'm thinking about his hands and all the other places they could go.
Concentrate, Sharon. Or I'll end up in heat and knotting with these Alphas.
Fantastic. Now my panties are wet just thinking about it.
Cassian tilts his head. "Are you having a heat spike?"
I touch my face and realize my cheeks are burning. The tips of my fingers come away hot. My skin feels feverish, flushed, like someone replaced my blood with lava.
Cassian watches me. His gray eyes are sharp and knowing, and he leans closer in his chair, elbows resting loosely on his knees.
"You're turning pink," he says quietly.
I try to laugh it off, but my voice wobbles as I move away. "It is warm in here. The heater must be broken."
If anything, the room is chilly. I can feel the cool air on my arms, but my body is betraying me, warming from the inside out. I tug at the collar of my sweater, trying to let air in.
Jett notices immediately. He moves closer, one long, sure stride at a time. He stops beside my chair, close enough that the heat from his body reaches me. Cedar and gunpowder mix with something warmer.
He touches the back of his hand to my forehead. “You're overheating," he says.
Because I keep trying to get away and one or both of you decide to touch me.
Pine arrives, and stands behind me, his presence large and steady. The room feels smaller with all three of them, but in a strange way, safer too. His scent is darker, metal and ink and sandalwood. It settles around me like a weighted blanket.
Great, now there is no way out. I'm surrounded.
I shake my head. "I'm fine. As long as everyone keeps their knots to themselves."
Did I really say that out loud?
Cassian crouches before my chair, his large hand settling on my knee.
"I'm not," I insist, but my words come too fast, too desperate.
Jett raises an eyebrow. "Then why are your pupils blown like that? And why mention knots? Now I'm thinking about it."
My breaths come shallow and uneven. Heat coils low in my stomach. I can’t deny my body anymore. My scent thickens, and the three of them breathe it in at the same time.
Their eyes change, just slightly. Darker. Focused. Possessive.
It thrills me.
"This isn't happening," I whisper, covering my face with my hands. “I'm planning a wedding and not having a heat spike in the office."
"Tell me about it, I haven't even had lunch yet," Cassian winks.
Cassian stands and helps me to my feet. His touch is gentle, but the moment his hand closes around my arm, a chill runs down my spine. My whole body reacts to him, and I hate that I love it.
“The good news is that you’re not in full heat, but your body is close. The scent, the temperature, the shaking. It’s just a spike.”
“I'm not shaking." I lift my chin.
My legs tremble, but the office is big enough with two small couches and a chaise lounge. There’s enough space for them to take care of me, I just need to let them.
All three of them see it.
Cassian's voice turns softer. "Let us help you sit."
So why did you get me to stand up?
He guides me toward the couch in the back corner of the office. I want to argue, but my knees feel unreliable, so I follow him. The couch is small, meant for clients who want cozy meetings and floral samples. Right now, it feels like a trap, especially once Pine and Jett follow.
I lower myself onto the cushions. My heart beats too fast. I sit on Jett’s lap. Pine’s to my left. Cassian leans against the desk across from us, arms crossed, watching me carefully.
"I can handle this alone," I say, even though I don't sound convincing.
"No," Pine answers, voice deep and quiet. "You shouldn't have to."
Jett studies me with dark eyes. "You're breathing too fast. Try to slow it down."
He takes my hand, intertwining our fingers without asking for permission. His skin is warm, and the contact sends a shiver rushing up my arm. I feel too much. Everything is too sharp. My senses are on fire.
Cassian moves closer. He kneels on the floor beside my legs, his hands braced on either side of my knees, careful not to touch me directly. His voice is gentle.
"Look at me. Just breathe."
I try. I really do. My chest rises too quickly, and my scent grows thicker. Strawberries and honey. Hot sugar. A smell no Alpha can ignore.
Pine inhales, and his shoulders tense. His head drops forward for a moment as if he needs to gather control. When he lifts his eyes again, they are darker.
Jett lifts his hand to my cheek. His thumb brushes along my jaw. "We won't let anything happen that you don’t want."
My pulse slows. My breathing evens. I relax a little into the couch. Jett begins rubbing slow circles on the back of my hand. Cassian stays close enough to smell my scent but far enough to give me room. Pine watches my face like I am fragile glass.
For a moment, it is quiet. Warm. Almost peaceful.
Then a wave of heat breaks over me without warning. It rolls through my belly and leaves my skin prickling. My breath catches. My thighs press together on instinct. I try to hide it, but Cassian sees.
He places a hand under my chin and lifts my face toward him. His eyes search mine.
"You're in mini heat," he says softly. "You don't need to pretend."