Page 8 of Pack Plus One

As soon as he’s out of earshot, I spin to face the four strangers, my heart pounding.

“Who are you people?” I hiss.

Cale leans in, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re late, sweetheart.”

“Late for what?” I whisper back fiercely. “I don’t even know you.”

The black-haired one narrows his eyes slightly, studying my face with growing suspicion.

“Le Roux Pack,” Jude says with a lazy smile, apparently oblivious to my confusion. He gestures to himself, then to his pack. “Jude, Liam, Mason, Caleb. We’ve been waiting by the champagne fountain like we said we would.”

And suddenly I understand what’s happening—they think I’m someone else. Someone they were expecting to meet here. Their hired date, perhaps? But why would four gorgeous men need to hire anyone?

I could correct them. Ishouldcorrect them. But then I catch sight of Eric watching us from across the room, and for the first time since I arrived, he doesn’t look smug. He looks... threatened.

One hour. Smile. Escape. That was the plan. But maybe...

“I’m sorry about that,” I say, straightening my shoulders. “The traffic was terrible.”

The black-haired one raises an eyebrow almost imperceptibly, but the others seem to accept my explanation without question.

“No problem at all,” Cale says, his hand still warm against my back. “We’re just glad we found you.”

3

CALEB

Just before

“She’s late,” I mutter, checking my watch for the third time in five minutes.

We’re standing near the champagne fountain, surrounded by other guests attending the pre-wedding cocktail party. The venue is exactly as pretentious as I expected—all crystal chandeliers and white roses arranged in towering displays.

“Maybe she changed her mind,” Liam suggests, always the voice of calm among us.

Jude snorts. “And miss out onus? Impossible.”

Mason, quiet as always, is scanning the crowd with narrowed eyes. “You have her photo, right?”

I nod, pulling up the PackPlus profile on my phone. Our “date” for the weekend, Olivia, has dark hair, blue eyes, and, according to her listing, will be wearing a black cocktail dress.

“This is ridiculous,” I say, tucking my phone away. “We shouldn’t have agreed to this.”

“What choice did we have?” Jude counters, straightening his already-perfect jacket. “The Walshes are one of the most influential packs in the Northeast. We need connections if we’re going to expand our business here.”

He’s right, of course. Le Roux Craft House has been doing well in Sweetwater City, but breaking into the market has been challenging. When one of our clients mentioned his niece’s wedding would be the networking event of the season, we knew we needed to attend. The problem? The invitation specifically mentioned pack seating arrangements, and walking in as four packmates without an omega would raise eyebrows.

Enter PackPlus—a discreet service for exactly this situation.

“Fifteen more minutes,” I decide. “Then we just…mingle without her.”

Jude and Liam nod in agreement, while Mason continues to survey the crowd.

“Send her a text,” Mason jerks his chin at my phone.

I shake my head. “Already did. No reply.” I show the others.

Jude rolls his eyes. “Of course.”

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