This room stirred up memories of Alpha’s son. The night after he’d had me, he’d brought me to his suite, a place that radiated luxury and privilege. Yet, even when I foolishly thought we had a future, I hadn’t felt like I fit in there.
The memory still stung, sharper than I wanted to admit. Not because I harbored any lingering feelings for Asshole—that part of me had died the moment he’d slipped that ring onto her finger. No, the pain was rooted in something deeper. In the way he’d played on my vulnerability, fooled me into thinking I was special to him, only to discard me when it suited him. I’d almost let him stomp on my dignity and self-worth like a stain on his suit.
He’d left his cousin to settle me in, and I’d spent the night alone, sleeping on his spotless sofa. A day later, Assho
