Page 1 of Knot Your Sugar Rush (Starling Grove #2)

Chapter one

Cam

T he day I lost everything started out like a dream.

Sunlight streamed through the high-rise windows of my downtown apartment.

I wore my favorite dress—silky, sea-glass green—and the barista at the coffee shop downstairs gave me an extra espresso shot for free.

I smiled at my reflection in the elevator mirror, feeling like I was finally becoming the version of myself I’d always imagined.

This morning, I got a promotion. A big one. My name on a door, my own office, a team. Months of late nights and skipped weekends finally paid off. My boss shook my hand with a proud smile, and people clapped. I felt important.

Seen.

The first person I tell is Eric. My fiancé.

He’s so proud he’s gushing on text.

You so deserve this. So proud of you, babe. Can’t wait to see you. He even makes us reservations at the rooftop bar where he first told me he loved me. Everything is perfect.

But I can’t wait for tonight. I want to celebrate now. Surprise him with an early celebration—he’s not exactly been subtle in his desire to dom me on his desk. I flush at the thought and shift my thighs. We work in the same firm, and most associates leave for lunch.

Before letting him ravish me, I want to see his face when I walk into his office with a bottle of champagne and a silly balloon I grab at the corner store. So I head to his office, all smiles and confidence.

I don’t knock. I never have to. I’m his fiancée, after all.

…and I walk in at the worst possible moment.

She’s on his desk. He’s behind her. The secretary—the one with the glossy lips and annoying laugh I’ve tried not to be jealous of. I don’t even have time to process what I’m seeing before Eric turns his head and spots me.

He doesn’t flinch. He smirks.

“You’re early,” he says, like I’m interrupting a meeting. His hips still move slowly, pumping into her, low moans escaping her. She’s a beta, no less, so he can’t even knot her. He’s just warming up. For me , I realize, disgusted. For tonight.

I just stand there. My hand still holds the balloon. It bumps gently against the ceiling.

Then he has the audacity to say: “You can join, if you want.”

That snaps me out of it. The ring comes off so fast I nearly scrape my finger raw. I hurl it at him, not caring where it lands. I think it hits the edge of his laptop and bounces to the floor.

“You arrogant, selfish bastard,” I spit. My voice shakes, but I don’t cry. Not yet. “You think I want anything to do with you now?”

He has the nerve to roll his eyes.

I leave. I slam the door so hard behind me that the glass rattles.

Outside, the wind picks up, blowing my hair into my eyes.

I wander without a destination, gripping the champagne bottle like a lifeline.

Eventually, I end up on a bench at the park, blinking into the sunset, wondering how I can feel so empty and so full of rage at the same time.

I don’t know who I am, anymore. Even the morning’s promotion seems odd, like something belonging to another version of me in another universe.

He’s part of the firm, and the firm is now tainted with her moans.

Since when did I start caring about office jobs? That had never been the dream, had it? It was the dream I’d forged to fit with Eric’s life. Not mine. His.

The rage bubbles and evaporates, leaving me empty. Hollow. The fact that I don’t have a way to open this tempting bottle of much-needed booze doesn’t exactly help, either.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. “Gram” lights up the screen.

I nearly don’t answer. But I need something soft. Something real.

“Hi, sweet pea,” her warm voice greets me. “I had a dream about you last night.”

I close my eyes. Just hearing her voice makes the tears start.

“You okay?” she asks, tone shifting immediately. “You sound off.”

I swallow hard. “I just... had a rough day.”

She doesn’t push. Just lets the silence stretch in that comforting way of hers.

“I was thinking,” she says after a moment. “You know how I’ve been meaning to clean out the attic? You could come help me. When you get a break from that big job of yours.”

“Could I stay for a while?” I ask, the words tumbling out before I can second-guess them.

She doesn’t even pause. “Of course you can. For as long as you need.”

“Eric and I... it’s over,” I add quietly.

“Good,” she says without missing a beat. “I never liked him.”

That makes me laugh. It comes out watery and cracked, but it’s real.

“You’re welcome here anytime, Camellia. No expectations. Just come home.”

By next morning, I’m ready to leave. My apartment, my so-called love life, and even my new fancy job. It all belongs to a past version of me that I don’t even recognize anymore, like I’d been so busy running away from who I am that I’d forgotten my way.

Time to redirect. Time to set my compass back home, to Starling Grove and all the painful memories I’d desperately fled.