Getting a two-hundred-pound drunk Alpha from the curb to his front door was not how Serena Winthrop had pictured her night ending.
Alpha Sebastian hung off her shoulder like a sandbag, reeking of expensive wine, mumbling to himself. She got him through the lobby, into the elevator, down the hall — sweating through a silk blouse that cost more than the doorman's paycheck.
The things I do for you, she thought, jabbing the elevator button with her elbow. You'd better remember this.
He wouldn't. He was too far gone.
She'd barely dropped him onto the couch when his hand caught her wrist.
"Serena."
"Serena Winthrop."
This time, he got the right name.
Her mood lifted a little. She sat down beside him. "Oh, so now you know who I am. In the car, you called me something els
