CLAIMED BY MY FORBIDDEN ALPHA STEP FATHER

I clutched my intern badge like a shield as the elevator doors opened on the 68th floor of Sterling Tower. My heart hammered against my ribs. Nineteen years old, untouched, and now trapped in the same building as *him* — Alexander Sterling. My stepfather. The Alpha. Mom’s whirlwind marriage two weeks ago had been a nightmare. One day she was single, the next she was Mrs. Sterling, and I was ordered to report here as an executive intern. “For your future,” she’d said with that fake smile. I knew better. This was control. The open-plan office stretched out like a predator’s den. Heads turned the second I stepped onto the marble floor. The men’s eyes crawled over my body — my fitted white blouse, the pencil skirt hugging my hips, the heels that made my legs look longer. One junior executive in a cheap suit leaned back in his chair, licking his lips slowly, his gaze lingering on my chest. Another whispered something to his buddy, both of them smirking. A third actually started to rise from his desk, mouth opening like he was about to say something filthy. I froze, terror spiking through me. Then, as one, they all sat back down. Fast. No one approached. No one spoke. Their faces twisted with frustration, but they averted their eyes like scolded dogs. The women were worse. Sharp glares from every direction. A sleek blonde at the reception desk narrowed her eyes, jealousy dripping from her posture as she scanned me head to toe. Whispers rippled — “Who the hell does she think she is?” “Fresh meat on the executive floor.” One older executive assistant gripped her coffee mug so hard her knuckles went white. But none of them moved against me. No catty comments to my face. No “accidental” spills. They all knew. There had been a meeting. Yesterday. Mandatory. Every employee warned: the new intern was off-limits. Untouchable. Alexander Sterling’s personal directive. No one touches what belongs to the Alpha. Not the lesser wolves. Not the humans. His prize would not be defiled. I swallowed hard and walked straight to the corner suite, heels clicking too loudly. The glass walls gave him a perfect view of the entire floor. He stood there, suit jacket discarded, white shirt stretched across broad shoulders and powerful arms, sleeves rolled up. Silver eyes locked on me instantly. “Miss Vale.” His voice was low, controlled, and it sent ice down my spine. “Inside. Now.” I obeyed, legs shaking. The door closed behind me with a heavy click. The scent hit me full force — dark cedar, aged whiskey, raw male dominance. My wolf stirred violently inside me, terrified and *wanting* at the same time. Heat pooled low in my belly against my will. He didn’t sit. He circled the massive oak desk like a wolf stalking prey, stopping only feet away. Towering over me. “You will address me as Mr. Sterling in front of staff. You will complete every task I assign without question. And you will never, under any circumstances, be alone with any other male in this building.” His nostrils flared. He inhaled deeply, eyes darkening to molten silver. I backed up until my thighs hit the edge of the desk, heart pounding so hard I thought I’d pass out. “Yes, Mr. Sterling,” I whispered, voice trembling. I was terrified of him — of the power rolling off him in waves, of the way my traitorous body reacted to his nearness. He stepped closer. Too close. One large hand braced on the desk beside me, caging me without touching. “You smell like mine.” The words were barely audible, ripped from his chest with a low growl. “This is going to be a problem.” I shivered, fear and something darker twisting inside me. “This is wrong. You’re married to my mother.” His jaw clenched. For one terrifying second, I saw the wolf surge forward — fangs threatening to descend, the bond snapping taut between us. His free hand twitched like he wanted to grab my throat, my waist, *mark* me right there. “Review these projections by end of day.” He shoved a tablet into my hands, our fingers brushing. Electricity exploded through me. I gasped. He froze. The air thickened with his restrained rut. “Get out.” I fled, clutching the tablet, his growl following me through the glass as I closed the door. The entire office watched me return to my desk. Men leering but restrained. Women seething with envy. None of them dared. But I felt his eyes on my back the entire way. Burning. Claiming. And I knew, deep in my terrified bones, that this was only the beginning.