Triplets for the Alpha CEO

Bridgett

The red letters on the paper seemed to burn through the floorboards.

Final Notice of Eviction.

I stared at it, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I had forty-eight hours. Two days to come up with three months of back rent, or my three babies and I would be sleeping on the streets of Chicago.

"Mami? My sock feels funny."

I blinked the tears away and turned around. The chaos of our tiny, one-bedroom apartment swallowed me whole.

Abby was hopping on one foot, her blonde curls bouncing. "It’s bunching up at the toes! Can you fix it? Can you? And Theo said we can’t have pancakes, but I want pancakes."

"We don't have mix, Abby," Theo said from the corner. At five years old, my son already had the weary posture of a protector. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his dark blue eyes—so much like his—scanning the room for threats.

Belle, my quiet princess, sat on the frayed rug, ignoring the noise. She was sketching intently on the back of an old envelope, her green eyes narrowed in concentration.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Come here, Abs." I fixed her sock and kissed her nose. "We’re having special toast today. And then Mami has to go to a very big interview."

"The job that pays a million dollars?" Abby asked, her eyes wide.

"Close enough," I whispered.

If I didn't get this job at Moonlight Corp as a junior assistant, we were dead. I didn't care that the cleaning staff whispered about the CEO being a tyrant. I didn't care that the turnover rate was higher than the crime rate in this neighborhood. I needed the money.

"Okay, team," I clapped my hands, forcing a smile I didn't feel. "Backpacks on. We’re moving out in ten minutes."

(***)

Dropping them off at Mrs. Higgins’ basement daycare always felt like leaving a piece of my soul behind. The place smelled like mildew and boiled cabbage.

"I’ll be back before dinner," I promised, hugging them tight. I inhaled their scents—baby shampoo and that unique, sweet puppy smell that was all their own.

"Be careful, Mami," Theo whispered, pressing his forehead against mine.

"Always, my little wolf."

I ran for the bus. I couldn't be late. Not today.

(***)

Moonlight Corp was a monolith of glass and steel that pierced the sky. It screamed power. It screamed money.

As I pushed through the revolving doors, the air conditioning hit me, drying the sweat on my neck. But then, something else hit me.

A scent.

I froze in the middle of the polished marble lobby.

My nostrils flared involuntarily. It was faint, lingering in the air conditioning vents, but it was unmistakable. Deep, dark wood. The smell of a storm about to break.

My knees went weak.

«No» It couldn't be.

I hadn't smelled that scent in five years. Not since the masquerade ball. Not since the stranger with the golden-flecked eyes who had given me one night of heaven and a lifetime of consequences.

«Calm down, Bridgett» I scolded myself. «You’re just nervous. You’re hallucinating»

I smoothed my cheap skirt, trying to hide the tremor in my hands. I checked in at the front desk.

"Elevator 4 to the 40th floor," the receptionist said without looking up. "You’re late. Mr. Hayes doesn't like late."

«Hayes» The surname meant nothing to me. Just another rich CEO.

I rushed toward the elevator bank. The doors to number 4 were sliding shut.

"Hold it, please!" I called out, jamming my hand into the gap.

The sensors triggered, and the metal doors slid back open.

I stepped inside, breathless, clutching my worn-out purse to my chest. "Thank you so much, I—"

The words died in my throat.

The air inside the small metal box was thick. Heavy. Suffocating.

The scent wasn't faint anymore. It was everywhere. It wrapped around me like smoke, triggering every dormant instinct I had buried deep inside. My skin prickled. My heart stopped, then restarted at double speed.

Slowly, terrifyingly, I lifted my eyes.

There was only one other person in the elevator. A man.

He stood in the corner, tall and imposing in a charcoal suit that cost more than my entire life's earnings. His hair was black as midnight, swept back from a sharp, aristocratic face.

But it was his eyes that pinned me to the wall.

Dark blue. Burning with an intensity that made my legs shake.

He was staring at me. No, he was hunting me with his gaze. He inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring, and I saw a flash of gold flicker in his irises.

He knew.

The elevator doors slid shut, trapping us together.

He took a step forward, invading my personal space, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through my bones.

"You..." he growled. "I’d recognize that scent anywhere"