Page 51 of Pack Plus One

A strange mix of relief and something else—something that feels suspiciously like regret—washes over me. I pick up the cup, the warmth seeping into my fingers. The scent of perfectly brewed coffee wafts up, mingling with the darker notes of Caleb’s scent that cling to the cardboard.

A sigh leaves my shoulders as I step into my apartment and close the door. I stare at the cup as I head to my kitchen, mouth pressing into a thin line as I hold it over to my sink, ready to dump it.

But it would be a shame to waste perfectly good coffee.

With another sigh, I take a hesitant sip, then a longer one. It’s delicious—rich and sweet with just the right amount of spice. Before I know it, I’ve drained the entire cup, a soft, satisfied sound escaping my lips as I swallow the last drop.

It’s only then that I realize I’m still holding the empty cup to my face, inhaling deeply. His scent still lingers on it. I’minhaling deeply again when I catch myself and toss the cup in the recycling bin in the kitchen.

It’s fine. I just need space. Time to think. Time to process without the distraction of his scent, his voice, his...everything.

Tuesday morning, I’m checking my mail, apartment door cracked open just enough to see the hallway. A thick manila envelope catches my eye, my name written in elegant script that’s somehow both precise and fussy.

From the desk of Liam Le Roux, PhD.

I flip it over with a mix of curiosity and wariness. The envelope is heavy—too heavy for a simple note—and sealed with what appears to be actual wax, complete with an embossed “L.”

Of course he has personalized wax seals. Why wouldn’t he?

I slide my finger under the flap, breaking the seal, and peek inside. A professionally bound document slides out, complete with color tabs and a cover page titled “Strategic Partnership Proposal: Le Roux Craft House & Sweet Omega Bakery.”

I blink, genuinely surprised. He’d been serious? When Liam had mentioned a potential partnership during our conversations at the wedding, I’d assumed it was just polite small talk. But this...

Flipping through the pages, I can’t help but be impressed by the thoroughness. There are detailed sections on “scent-pairing options” (color-coded by intensity and aroma profile), “omega-friendly atmosphere enhancements,” and—I nearly choke—“Your needs are our priority” printed in three different sample fonts for me to choose from.

There are actual business card mock-ups tucked into the appendix, each with a different logo design for our partnership.One of them combines my cupcake with omega sprinkles alongside their lion emblem.

The amount of work that went into this is staggering. He must have worked on this forhours.

I’m still staring at this masterpiece when the scent hits me.

Dark chocolate and espresso with that dangerous alpha edge that makes my knees weak. My head snaps up just as Caleb steps into view.

Our eyes lock.

He’s wearing a replica of that same damn shirt that clings to his shoulders like it was painted on. Morning stubble shadows his jaw, and his green eyes blaze with something that steals the breath from my lungs.

For one suspended heartbeat, we just stare at each other.

Then instinct takes over.

Panic flares like someone just lit a firework in my chest. I slam the door so hard the impact rattles my teeth. My back hits the wood as if I could physically hold it shut against six feet of determined alpha. I fumble with the lock, my fingers suddenly all thumbs. The lock clicks a second before his knuckles rap against the other side.

“Leah.” My name is a growl that vibrates through the door and straight down my spine. “Open up.”

My hands shake as I press them flat against the wood. I swear I can feel the heat of him through the barrier, smell his scent intensifying with frustration. Or is it amusement? With alphas, it’s always hard to tell.

Three more deliberate knocks. “I can see your shadow under the door, sweetheart.” A pause. “And I can smell your...” He inhales deeply, and I swear I feel it like he just licked a long line from my belly button to my throat. “Interesting reaction to seeing me.”

Fire floods my cheeks. Something inside me preens at his attention even as my brain screams retreat.

“Leah?”

Think, Leah, think!

My gaze lands on my open window.

Fire escape. It’s a long shot, but it’s the only option I have.