Claimed By The Ruthless Alpha Devils

MIRABELLA

I stopped believing in happy endings a long time ago.

First, it was my dad, that’s if you could even call him that. He left before I was even born, disappeared without so much as a name on a birth certificate. Then my mom died on my thirteenth birthday, cancer taking her so fast I barely had time to say goodbye. Since then, it’s just been me. Me and whatever version of survival I could claw out of this world.

Tonight’s no different.

I check my watch. It’s silver, worn, the only thing my father ever left behind. I hate that I wear it, but it’s the nicest thing I own. The time glares back at me: 9:04 p.m. I was supposed to be here an hour ago.

Although Midnight Muse is a shithole, it’s still nicer than the other clubs I’ve worked in, and tonight’s my debut here. When I got the offer a week ago, I’d hesitated. That’s before the eviction notice came. I needed money, and fast. Stripping may not be glamorous, but it pays. And right now, survival beats pride.

The place is already packed when I arrive. Music blares, lights flicker, and the air reeks of cologne, alcohol, and desperation. Just another Friday night.

I shoulder past drunk men in suits and button-downs, ignoring their wandering eyes and slurred invitations. The dressing room’s chaos is familiar, girls half-dressed, chattering, doing their makeup, adjusting their wigs, checking tips in their bras.

One woman makes her way toward me. Curvy, confident, and clearly in charge. Every club has one of her kind. A mother hen. At my last club, it was Rose, a fading blonde who looked out for newbies. Here, it appears to be this redhead who seems to have made peace with gravity’s betrayal. She clucks over me like a hen with a chick, guiding me to the rack of costumes.

“You Bella?” she asks.

I nod. That’s the stage name I use, short for my name Mirabella. It’s the only part of me I’ve ever chosen.

She smiles. “I’m Candy. Eddy said to show you the ropes. You’re late, but lucky. Got yourself a private already.”

I blink. “What?”

Candy hands me a black corset and matching thong. “Skip the stage for now. VIP lounge. Big spender asked for you by name.”

“That’s not—new girls don’t get privates on their first night.”

Candy shrugs. “You sure he’s not a regular from another club? Said he’s been looking for you. Paid up front. Real classy type. Rich. Tall. Intense.”

I don’t know anyone like that. I don’t know anyone, period. But I nod and take the outfit. Candy gives me a wink and walks off.

Great.

Ten minutes later, I’m in the hallway with Eddy, the club manager. He smells like cologne and cheap cigars.

“You good?” he asks, glancing over my outfit.

“I guess,” I mutter, tugging the corset into place.

“Cassian Windsor,” he says. “That’s your client. Important guy. You treat him right, and you won’t need to dance here long.”

Cassian Windsor.

Never heard of him. But the way Eddy says his name, like it’s heavy, powerful, it makes my skin crawl.

“You’re twenty-four tonight,” Eddy reminds me with a wink. “And remember, Max is watching. No touching.”

Max, the bouncer, leans against the wall, arms crossed. He’s quiet, but seems reliable. I nod and step into the lounge.

It’s quieter here, more private. Dim lighting, leather seating, and a man in a perfectly tailored suit waiting for me.

He stands as I walk in. “Bella?”

“Yes,” I say, my voice soft, rehearsed. I move closer. “May I begin, sir?”

His eyes lock onto mine, and everything shifts.

“Goddess,” he whispers. “You look just like him.”

I freeze. “What?”

He blinks, like he forgot where he is. “Sorry. I’m Cassian. Please, sit. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I hesitate, but lower myself into the chair across from him. There’s something about him—he’s not leering. Not drinking. Just…watching.

“I’m not here for the dance,” he says.

I narrow my eyes. “Then what are you doing here?”

“I was a friend of your father,” he says, slowly. “His name was Adrian, and before he died, he told me he left something behind. You.”

I scoff. “Nice story. But I don’t have a dad.”

“I know that’s what you were told,” he says. “But it’s not true. Your father only passed away recently. And before he did, he made me your legal guardian.”

I stare at him.

He slides a file from his coat and places it in front of me. Legal papers. Signatures. My name.

“This has to be a mistake,” I whisper. “I don’t know you. I don’t know him.”

“I didn’t expect you to believe me right away,” he says gently. “But it’s all real.”

I pick up the papers, fingers trembling. I want to laugh, scream, run. Is this some kind of setup? Some rich guy playing games?

“My mom raised me. Alone. And she told me nothing about him, expect for how he bolted when he learnt of her pregnancy. And she’s gone now, so there’s no way I can’t ask.” I can’t hide the bitterness in my voice.

Cassian’s expression softens. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know she passed.”

I try to shake it off. “It doesn’t matter. This—” I gesture at the room, the outfit, the whole goddamn night, “—is my life now.”

His face twists, and not in desire. In disgust. Like he’s seeing a horror show.

“No,” he mutters. “Adrian would never forgive me if I let you stay here.”

Then he does something insane.

He grabs me. Lifts me off the couch like I weigh nothing and throws me over his shoulder.

“What the hell?!” I shriek, pounding his back. “Put me down!”

Cassian storms through the hallway. I’m kicking, screaming, flailing. No one stops him.

“Let her go!” Max steps in front of the door, eyes sharp.

“She’s seventeen,” Cassian snaps. “I’m her guardian. Move, or I’ll have this place shut down by morning.”

Max’s eyes flick to me. I’m crying now, mascara running, hair in my face. He hesitates. Then, slowly, he steps aside.

And just like that, I’m carried out of the only place I’ve ever felt like I had any power.

The night air hits like a slap. Cassian unlocks a sleek black car and throws open the door. He drops me in like luggage and slams it shut.

I bang on the window, but it’s too late.

He goes over to the other side of the car, and slides into the passenger seat beside me, breathing hard.

I stare at him, chest heaving, heart pounding in my throat.

Oh goddess.

This man just kidnapped me.