Chapter Four

Cora’s POV

     I’m used to everyone looking my way when I step into a room, but it’s usually in admiration, not loathing. 

     It makes sense, I suppose. As far as they know, I’m the cheating slut of a wife who betrayed the Alpha of the Black Moon pack, so how dare I come to a club this high-profile, looking this good, without my husband? 

     But I’ve always been able to rock a miniskirt, and I’ve got the figure for a corset top, and I’m pretty sure Anna’s brushed every inch of exposed skin with body glitter. I look great. I feel like having fun. I’m not in the mood for their disrespect. 

     Anna and I get into the club easily enough–she is a superstar, after all–and grab a seat at a small table to the left of the main stage. I wave over a waiter.

     “I’ll have an amaretto sour, please,” I tell him. “Oh–start a tab.”

     “Strawberry daiquiri for me!” Anna adds. 

     The waiter shoots me a dirty look, then walks off. I catch Anna’s eye and am suddenly unable to stop myself from laughing. Loud, seductive music rattles through the club, pulsing through the floorboards. 

     When the waiter returns, he hands Anna her drink, but just stares at me.

     “Well?” I snip.

     “You’re that girl from the papers, aren’t you,” he says slowly. Dawning realization. “The whore–”

     I glare at him. “My drink.”

     “You don’t deserve–”

     I roll my eyes. I came prepared for this. I grab my purse from where I’ve slung it over the back of the chair and, very deliberately, open it in front of him. Inside are tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of bills, fresh from the bank, neatly bundled. 

     “My drink?”

     His jaw falls open. I smirk, stand up, and take my drink wordlessly from his tray. As he gapes, I tuck a bundle of cash into his front pocket. 

     I laugh. “Good boy. You can go now.”

     Wordlessly, he turns and leaves. 

     It’s easy to buy respect.

     I take a sip of my drink, then stride towards the empty stage before I can second-guess myself. Anna’s right behind me. I climb up onto the stage, give myself a moment to catch my balance, and grab the microphone.

     “Drinks are on me for the night!” I shout into the mic, face flushed, gazing out at a sea of awed faces. 

     My announcement is met with a burst of raucous applause. No one seems to care about my little affair now. They love me. I laugh, swaying slightly. I lower the mic. 

     Anna grabs my hand and tugs me away from the middle of the stage. “Hey, we should go dancing,” she suggests.

     My face flushes. “I haven’t danced in ages.”

     “You need to get back out there. You’re single now, remember?”

     “I’m not that single–”

     Anna’s arm wraps around me as she takes the mic from my hand. “Hey, everyone! To celebrate Cora’s divorce, the two of us are going to be putting on a lovely show for you all! Applause is, of course, welcome, but keep your tips to yourselves.” She winks at me, then gestures towards the pole onstage. “Cora?”

     “I hate you,” I say, but smile as I walk towards the pole.

     “That’s the spirit!” Anna laughs.

     I suck in a deep breath, adjust my skirt, and grab the pole.

     The music switches–something smooth and sultry, with a heavy bass line that I can’t help but sway my hips to. My heels click on the stage as I readjust my stance. 

     Just as I start to move, Anna swears under her breath. I look over at her in confusion. My agent is here, she mouths, before jumping off the stage.

     It hits me suddenly: I’m alone. 

     I tighten my grip on the pole. My skirt is short. My corset top is tiny. There’s only so much I can do without flashing everyone in the room–

     But maybe I want that.

     I walk in a slow, sensual circle around the pole, gripping it firmly with both hands. I make sure to grin at the crowd, fangs flashing. As the music picks up, I grab the pole more tightly and pull myself up into the air so my feet are off the ground.

     The crowd whistles. Someone throws a flower onto the stage. I laugh. 

     My body coils around the pole as I spin in midair. I arch my back so my chest sticks out, hands held high over my head, legs twisted around the shiny chrome, hair spilling over my shoulders in a beautiful cascade. The music swells, so I pull myself up a bit higher, hook my bare legs around the metal, and let go of the pole.

     The crowd falls silent. 

     For a moment, I’m terrified I’m going to fall.

     But I don’t.

     Everyone starts to cheer. 

     I grin, reaching downwards and grabbing the pole again so I’m hanging completely upside down in a backbend. The slow rotation of the pole ensures that every angle of my lithe body is on display for all to see. Muscles burning, I manage to spin down the pole all the way back to the stage, moving fluidly and with a skillful grace until my heels touch the floor again. 

     In a miracle of perfect timing, the song fades out. 

     I walk down from the stage to raucous applause. The crowd is whooping and hollering. As I make my way across the floor of the club, I can feel the weight of a fiery gaze settling upon me, though I can’t quite pinpoint where it’s coming from. 

     Men start to approach me from all angles–they’re clamoring and shouting incessantly, all ridiculous, all utterly beneath me. I weave between them with a practiced elegance, then pause and reconsider. It has been awhile since I’ve gotten any genuine attention from a man, and wasn’t the point of being here to have some fun? Don’t I deserve that much, after everything Alexander has put me through?

     One of the men stands out from the rest–tall, broad-shouldered, and neatly dressed. He’s clean-shaven and his brown eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles at me. Something in the set of his jaw almost reminds me of Alexander, but that’s hardly important. I walk towards him, slipping my phone out of my pocket with every intention of giving him my number. 

     He’s grinning now as I approach him, and I find myself smiling, too. This is what I need, after everything. My heart starts to flutter in my chest with all the excitement and anticipation of a high school crush.

     Just as I open myself to speak, though, a strong pair of hands grabs my shoulders and yanks me backwards.