Page 4 of Heat Island
“Maybe that’s it,” I manage, taking a too-large gulp of coffee that burns my throat.
This can’t be happening. It has to be some cosmic joke. The universe must be laughing its ass off right now.
I should tell her. I need to tell her. The words crowd my throat:Josie, I dated all three of them in college. They’re my exes. The ones who broke my heart.
But something stops me. Maybe it’s the radiant happiness on her face. Maybe it’s the knowledge that Josie has never stuck with anything in her life long enough to be this excited about it.
Or maybe it’s the small, ugly voice whispering that they couldn’t possibly want my sister because of her connection to me. That would make me narcissistic beyond belief, wouldn’t it? Thinking these three successful alphas orchestrated this entire relationship just to get back at me?
No, that’s ridiculous. It has to be a coincidence. The world isn’t that small.
But then I remember how Egret’s eyes hardened when I refused to quit my internship to accompany him on a summer-long European vacation. How Brendin’s jaw clenched when I suggested we split household responsibilities equally. How Saren’s voice droppeddangerously low when I landed a six-figure job offer months before graduation.
These men don’t like being challenged. They don’t like independent omegas. And they especially don’t like being refused.
“Trinity?” Josie’s concerned voice pulls me from my spiraling thoughts. “You’re being weird. Do you not approve of them?”
I force my features into something resembling a smile. “No, it’s not that. I’m just surprised. It’s a lot to process.”
“I know it seems fast,” she admits, fidgeting with her straw. “But they’re so wonderful, Trin. They make me feel special. Like I’m the center of their universe.”
That’s because you are. Until you’re not. That’s what they do.
“I want you to be happy, Josie.” I reach for her hand, squeezing it tightly. “I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into.”
“I do,” she insists, eyes bright with conviction. “And actually, there’s something else I wanted to tell you.”
The knot in my stomach tightens. “What’s that?”
“We’ve already set a date. Can you believe it?” She claps her hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. “The guys have connections, and they pulled some strings, and—oh my god, Trin, you’re not going to believe this—we’re getting married at Heat Island.”
My coffee cup freezes halfway to my mouth. Heat Island is the most exclusive resort in Southeast Asia, booked solid for the next five years with a waiting list longer than the Great Wall of China. I’ve had billionaire clients who couldn’t secure it for a high-season event.
“Heat Island,” I repeat dumbly. “As in the private islandresort off the coast of Indonesia that costs more than a luxury vehicle to book for a single week?”
“Yes,” she squeals, oblivious to my shock. “Isn’t it amazing? They know the owner or something. We’re having the ceremony on the beach at sunset, and—” She stops suddenly, grabbing both my hands across the table. “Trinity, I want you to plan it. The whole thing. You’re the best event planner in New York, and you’re my sister, and it would mean everything to me.”
The words I was about to say, the confession that was forming on my lips, die instantly. My sister wants me to plan her wedding to my ex-fiancés. The cosmic joke just keeps getting better.
“I don’t know, Josie,” I hedge, trying to find a graceful way out. “I usually don’t plan events for family. It gets complicated.”
“Please?” She gives me those puppy-dog eyes that have been working on me since she was three. “The guys are already impressed with your business. I showed them your portfolio online, and they think you’re perfect for this. They specifically asked if your services would be available.”
They asked for me. Specifically.
A chill runs down my spine. This isn’t a coincidence. It can’t be.
Maybe this is some elaborate plot to get back at me. More likely, they found the perfect omega and its icing on the cake to make a fool out of her stuck-up sister.
But I can’t share those theories with Josie now. Not when she’s looking at me with such hope, such excitement. Not when I don’t have all the facts. What if I’m wrong? What if I’m letting old wounds cloud my judgment?
I need to know more before I break her heart. I need to understand what game these alphas are playing.
“When’s the wedding?” I ask, already dreading the answer.
“Six weeks from now.” She bounces in her seat. “I know it’s quick, but when you know, you know, right?”
Six weeks. They’re rushing this. Why?
