Page 1 of Knottily Ever After (Crescent Lake Cozy Omegaverse #1)

Chapter One

Violet

“ N umber nine!”

My scream echoes off the walls of my office in my penthouse apartment as I jump up, send my chair flying on its wheels behind me, where it crashes into the bookcase against the wall.

Number nine. My latest book made it to number nine on the bestseller list!

I let out another squeal-turned-scream and make a mad dash for the kitchen. The bottle of Dom Perignon I’d been saving greets me in my pantry, where I pluck it from the shelf and place a big kiss on the label.

“You’re beautiful,” I swoon. “We’re going to Steve’s office, where you,” I tap the glass, “are going to go inside of us. Oh, yes, you are.”

In a flurry of movement, I toss on my trusty flats, run to the bathroom to ensure I’m at least somewhat presentable, grab my only champagne bucket, and head to my car with Dom in tow.

My hands drum on the steering wheel in the midday traffic jam heading into the heart of Los Angeles’ financial district, the enormous four-karat diamond on my left ring finger casting dancing rainbows inside my car when it catches the sun just right.

My smile grows wider before I bite my lip, my thighs clenching at the memory of Steve’s proposal, and the night we shared after.

Even though it had happened two years ago, it was the most passionate night of my life.

Steve and I had been a couple for over a decade. We’d been childhood best friends, introduced by our parents when I was five and he was seven.

He was a spoiled shit, way worse than I ever was, but affluence can do that to children, I guess. Or maybe it was just his doting parents.

We grew up together and went to the same private schools. By high school, we were inseparable, and I was head-over-heels in love with him.

I honestly never thought he felt the same way until he asked me to be his date to his prom.

We shared our first awkward kiss that night, and I walked on clouds for days afterward.

And of course, when it came time for my prom two years later, I asked him to be my date while he was back home from university.

He accepted, and I was well prepared to lose my V-Card that night.

But, Steve, ever the gentleman, said that he didn’t want to take our relationship to the next level before we made things official with our parents.

Despite being disappointed, I was also kind of blown away by his dutiful attitude. He was so handsome and so thoughtful.

Then he went back to school, and I began my university stint, and we didn’t see each other much for a few years. All that time, I maintained my virtue, sure that Steve was the Alpha I wanted to be with forever.

Steve finally returned to L.A. and his family when he landed a job here, and it wasn’t long before he showed up at my door and asked me out on a date.

Our romance and lives had been like a fairy tale for the first couple of years.

Until eight years ago, when I was woken up by a call in the middle of the night.

To this day, the details are still fuzzy.

A man asking if I was Violet Marshall, daughter of Greg and Rachel Marshall.

Asking if he and his partner could come up to the penthouse.

Me opening the door to find two detectives.

The news that my parents had been killed in a helicopter crash just outside the city.

I don’t remember calling Steve, but he was there in a blink, holding me as I wailed.

Outside of his busy work schedule, and when we aren’t able to stay over at each other’s places, the two of us have been inseparable since then. It was just like back in high school.

Oh, and we had sex!

It wasn’t like in the movies or even porn, but I didn’t care. I was with Steve, the only Alpha I’d ever loved.

He’d never knotted me, but I understood. He wanted to wait for us to be married before taking the chance of having kids, since no birth control is one hundred percent effective when knotting. Even though I was pretty sure it was like ninety-nine-point-something percent effective.

He was still old school like that; a stoic businessman who’d found success at a major financial advisory firm housed in one of the tallest buildings in the city. He had many more successes ahead of him. I just knew it.

I would continue to be on his arm at all the social gatherings, and by next summer, I’d be Mrs. Steven Jones.

Maybe in a few more years, once he had a bigger role at the firm and I’d made a strong enough foothold in the publishing industry, I’d come off my suppressants and birth control, and we would start a family.

Little Steves and Violets running around.

The thought made me grin uncontrollably, my excited squeal building back up again.

Once I park in the underground garage, I grab all my stuff and head for the elevator. Steve’s office is almost on the top floor of this skyscraper, and I busy myself in the back corner as the elevator car stops every now and again along the way.

Almost on Steve’s floor, I give myself one last look in the mirrored wall beside me, adjust my lip gloss, and exit at the ding onto a gorgeous marble floor.

I’ve been here countless times, knowing my way just fine to his large mahogany office door. When I reach the large desk just outside Steve’s office, I note that Sam, his assistant, isn’t there.

No big deal. If Steve’s on the phone, I’ll just wait inside until he’s done. I know he’ll want to hear this news as soon as possible!

My hand on the doorknob, a noise inside the office makes my ears twitch and stops me in my tracks. Something like a whine. A groan. A… grunt.

Everything around me stops as I strain to hear what’s happening behind the door.

Clapping? Slapping?

“ Yes!”

Oh. My. Gods.

There’s no way. That voice, that whine .

It’s Sam. Seve’s assistant.

I mean… I guess he could be in there… with someone… while Steve is in a meeting. Right?

“ Take it.”

Oh, fuck no. That’s Steve’s voice.

The world kicks into overdrive, my fists clenching so tight my nails dig painfully into my palms. The moment they both groan in ecstasy, I kick the door open with strength I didn’t know I had, causing them both to shout, wide eyes turning to me.

Their scents hit me first, before my eyes adjust to the low light through the closed blinds. Steve’s herbal rosemary-thyme melds with Sam’s sweet cranberry in a way that makes my nose wrinkle.

I’ll never be able to smell a Thanksgiving dinner the same way again.

I bite back a growl.

My eyes adjust, and there they are. My fiancé, balls-deep in his Omega assistant’s ass; Sam bent over the desk, his arms sprawled in front of him.

Steve’s brown eyes flick back and forth between me and Sam, his brows drawn tight.

His gaze lands on the champagne bottle inside the empty silver bucket, then back up to my face.

“V-Violet,” he stammers. He goes to move away from Sam.

But he can’t.

My stoic, conservative, old school fiancé— my best friend —has knotted his male Omega assistant. In his office. During the workday. The Alpha, who, aside from the night he proposed, only ever had boring, wimpy sex with me.

The Alpha who asked me to marry him but refused to knot me. Ever.

Here he is, locked inside his assistant.

He knotted him.

On the day I should be celebrating my first bestselling title.

I don’t really know what happens next, to be honest. I vaguely remember throwing the empty bucket at Steve’s face and hurling the full, heavy champagne bottle at them both, right where their bodies were joined.

I have impeccable aim.

I remember Steve calling for me as I turned and walked out, leaving his office door wide open. Also, the unhinged smile that curved my lips as I passed his Alpha boss on my way back to the elevator, and nodded at him in greeting.

He was headed in the direction I’d just come from.

The shouting began before the elevator doors closed to take me back to the parking garage.

It’s once I’m back home and drop my purse and keys on the floor, kick off my shoes and collapse on the couch, that gravity pulls me back to reality.

That bastard.

I rub my eyes to try and erase the vision of them fucking, but only manage to open the floodgates. Tears stream down my face, this strange rage boils in my belly. I let out a guttural scream that tears my chest raw.

As enraged as I am by the betrayal, my heart truly breaks when I look back on all the years we’d been together as friends, confidants.

How long had this been going on?

No wonder he didn’t want to knot me. He probably knotted his assistant every weekday!

Oh, gods. What if he’s pregnant?

Why should I care? We’re through.

Steve Jones is a liar, a cheater, and you know what? He’s terrible in bed.

There, I said it.

But...maybe he was terrible with me because he had Sam all this time.

Ugh. No. I would not let Steve and his mistress—what are males called in this situation?—ruin what is supposed to be a fabulous day for me.

Violet Marshall doesn’t weep over men. They’re meant to weep over her!

And now I’m thinking in the third person. Great. I really must be going insane.

With a sigh, I wipe my eyes and nose with the back of my hand, pull myself upright on the couch—none of the movements at all sexy—and drop my head into my hands, elbows on my knees.

What am I going to do?

The first thing is automatic. I pull the sixty-thousand-dollar ring from my finger and fling it at the front door with a lot of force, and a growl.

I don’t even want the dirty money from selling the thing.

I inherited this penthouse from my parents, along with a trust fund that paid out when I’d turned thirty four years back.

Steve’s money meant nothing to me.

Sigh.

I need to get away from here. Away from these memories. Start fresh somewhere, even if just for a little while.

My back goes straight. A vision of an advertisement I’d recently seen flashes through my mind, and I scramble to where I’d dropped my purse and dig for my phone. Once I find it, I go through the history on my browser and pull up the site.

Crescent Lake, California.

Nestled in a lush, wooded area far north of L.A., boasting small town charm and a total permanent population of just over two thousand. The photos depicted a place to escape the hustle and bustle while not appearing to be too much of a tourist trap.

It was absolutely perfect.