Surrendering To Four: A Reverse Harem Story

ZOE "Babe, I brought sushi to celebrate your win!" I called out as I walked into Derek's apartment with the takeout bag swinging from my hand. His text had said he would be home by now. I heard sounds coming from the bedroom. There was some movement, and a woman's voice. My heart skipped a beat. "Derek?" I called again, walking toward the bedroom door which was slightly ajar. The sounds got clearer. Moaning. More movement. My stomach dropped. I pushed the door open wider, and there he was. My boyfriend of three years. Hockey star Derek Thompson. His muscled back tensed as he moved against a blonde woman I recognized from the cheer squad. I stood there frozen, as the sushi bag slipped from my fingers and hit the floor with a small sound. The cheerleader saw me first. Her eyes widened over Derek's shoulder. She gasped loudly and pushed at his chest. Derek turned his head, and his expression changed from confusion to shock in an instant. "Zoe! Wait—" But I was already gone. The apartment door slammed heavily behind me as I ran. I didn't stop until I got to my car, where I fumbled with the keys as tears blurred my vision. Three years. Three years of supporting him at every game, nursing his injuries, listening to his frustrations, celebrating his victories... had been thrown away for what? A quick romp with a cheerleader? *** "Another glass?" Ashley asked. She was holding up the wine bottle. "Fill it to the top," I said as I deleted another picture from my phone. Derek scoring the winning goal. Delete. Derek and me at his team party. Delete. Derek kissing me on New Year's Eve. Delete. I paused at a photo of him shirtless after a game. Sweat shone attractively on his chest, and he had that stupidly charming smile on his face. My finger hovered over the delete button. "Are you seriously drooling over his abs right now?" Ashley quickly grabbed the phone from my hand and deleted the picture herself. "After what he did?" "I wasn't drooling!" I protested, then I took my phone back. "I was remembering how much I hate him." "Sure you were." Ashley rolled her eyes. "Your problem is you still think he's hot." "Well, I can't just turn that off," I admitted, tossing my phone aside. "But it doesn't matter. I'm done with him. I'm done with all athletes." "Speaking of which..." Ashley pulled up her email on her iPad. "Did you really quit your job?" I nodded between a large gulp of wine. "I sent my resignation this morning. There’s no way I’m staying as the PR coordinator for a team where I'll have to see Derek's stupid face every day." "Good for you,” Ashley replied with approval before she clinked her glass against mine. "Now, should we burn his stuff or donate it?" I grinned for the first time that day. "Is both an option?" Two hours later, we were sitting cross-legged on the bathroom floor, watching flames consume Derek's favorite jersey in our bathtub. "To athletes," I said, raising my glass. "May their bodies be hot and their karma hotter." Ashley laughed. "I'll drink to that." "No, seriously," I continued. The wine was making my tongue loose, but I didn’t care. "I'm swearing off athletes forever. Their bodies might be hot, but their hearts are cold. Not worth it." "That's a big promise," Ashley said. "But I support it.” TWO WEEKS LATER I walked into the sleek offices of Elite Marketing, smoothing down my black pencil skirt. The portfolio tucked under my arm felt like a shield. "Ms. Mitchell?" A woman with a sharp bob and even sharper eyes extended her hand. "I'm Vanessa Porter. Come on in." The interview went better than I expected. Vanessa seemed impressed with my work for the hockey team, and she asked detailed questions about some of the campaigns I had organized. "Your portfolio is excellent," she said finally. "When can you start?" I blinked in surprise. "You're offering me the job? Just like that?" I asked. Vanessa smiled. "I know talent when I see it. Plus, your experience with sports marketing is exactly what we need right now,” she replied. "I can start immediately," I said, trying not to sound too eager. "Perfect. Monday, 9 AM." She stood and shook my hand. "Welcome to Elite Marketing, Zoe." *** "To new beginnings!" Ashley exclaimed, raising her glass that night at our favorite bar across town. I clinked my glass against hers, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. "To never seeing Derek Thompson again." "And to that dress," Ashley added, eyeing my outfit appreciatively. "It's about time you showed those curves again." The black dress had been buried in my closet for months. It hugged my body in all the right places, which was a far cry from the baggy sweaters I had been living in since the breakup. "It feels good," I admitted, taking a sip of my cocktail. "Like I'm finally moving on." "Speaking of moving on, don't look now, but there's a table of seriously hot guys in the corner, and they keep looking over here." Of course, I immediately looked. "Subtle, Zoe. Real subtle," Ashley said with a laugh. Four men sat at a corner table. They were all attractive in different ways. One caught my eye immediately. He was dark-haired with broad shoulders and a confident posture. When our eyes met, he didn't look away. Instead, he smiled slightly and raised his glass in a subtle toast. When I quickly turned back to Ashley, my cheeks were warm. "Nahh, I’m not interested." "Liar," she teased. "Your face is redder than that time you got sunburned at Derek's beach tournament." "Don't mention his name," I groaned. "Tonight is about celebrating my new Derek-free life." After some more drinks, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. The bar had gotten crowded, and I had to pass between groups of people. I was scrolling through i********: as I rounded the corner to the hallway, not paying attention, when I collided with something solid—or rather, someone. A pair of strong hands immediately gripped my waist to steady me. I looked up into a set of piercing gray eyes on a face that belonged to a magazine cover. It was one of the men from the corner table. "Sorry," I mumbled. I was suddenly aware of how close we were standing and how his hands were still lingering on my waist. "No, that was entirely my fault," he said. His voice was deep and slightly husky. "I wasn't watching where I was going." There was something familiar about him, but I couldn't place it. Heat traveled through my body from where his hands touched me, and I quickly stepped back. "Excuse me," I said, and slipped past him into the bathroom. When I emerged a few minutes later, he was gone, but I could still feel the imprint of his hands on my waist. I shook off the sensation and rejoined Ashley. "Ready to go?" she asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost." "I’m just tired," I lied. "Let's head home." As we left, I felt eyes on me but I didn't turn to look. My phone buzzed in my purse, and I pulled it out to find a text from my new boss: Welcome aboard! First client meeting Monday: The Wolves hockey team. I instantly stopped dead in my tracks. The Wolves. They were Derek's biggest rivals. A team full of athletes! Those were exactly the type of men I had sworn off forever. Ashley looked back at me. "What's wrong?" I showed her the text. My hand even shook slightly. "Well, at least it's not Derek's team, right?" she said with a nervous laugh. I had a sinking feeling as I remembered where I had seen those gray eyes before—on billboards around the city. They belonged to Lucas Stone, captain of the Wolves hockey team. My new clients.