Revenge with my Fiancé's Billionaire Brother

Sama Arthur

"Can I get a vodka and grapefruit?"

Sama's hands moved with relaxed habit, grabbing the glass and the Grey Goose bottle. She flashed a swift, confident smile at the Beta female across the bar. "Coming right up."

"You always make them perfect, Sama," the woman said, praising her, leaning a bit closer. "Timothy really knows how to pick 'em."

Sama laughed, pouring the vodka. "Glad to hear it. Keeps the tips coming, right?" Working at Delights had become her groove. The pace, the quick decisions, the endless stream of faces – it kept her on her toes, kept her grounded. She was grateful Timothy had hired her, Alex Henry's word good enough, no questions asked, no papers necessary. The tips themselves were more than sufficient; she didn't even bother with a salary.

"Absolutely! And these Omega clubs? They're just. electric." The Beta gestured to the packed room, where Alphas and Betas alike mingled, their eyes often drifting over to the Omegas behind the bar and on the stage. Sama smoothed the glittery fishnets that peeked out from beneath her little skirt, pulling at her corset top. The outfit was a uniform, a costume, and a statement all rolled into one. It was showtime, and they all had parts to play.

"It's a good kind of crazy," Sama agreed, sliding the drink across the polished wood. "Everybody goes home happy, wallets a little lighter." She loved it. Every single loud, crazy minute of it. It was the complete opposite of the stifling eighteen years prior. Freedom. She could sleep when she wanted, wear what she wanted, just be. The liberty was a thrill, though she was only mixing drinks and not yet dancing on stage. The bar was full tonight, and thirst was an imminent peril.

A hand brushed the base of her spine, and she jumped slightly. "Behind you, slowpoke," Alex Henry whispered, a teasing glint in her blue eyes as she reached for a bottle of tequila. "You alright tonight, Sama? You're a bit… distracted."

Sama smiled, a genuine, unburdened smile. "Better than good. Feeling free."

Alex winked, her voice dropping conspiratorially. "Good. Because there are some seriously hot Alphas stalking tonight. You better work that charm, girl."

"Oh, I intend to," Sama said, already turning to a new client, her smile honeyed and her humor swift. All of those stodgy etiquette lessons her father had insisted upon her were finally working, just not in the way he'd ever imagined. Her purse was getting fatter by the second.

Delights wasn't just any Omega club. It had a reputation, but also rules.". Everyone had to show proof of suppressors or scent blockers. Odor eliminators were sprayed through the vents every thirty minutes, so the air was neutral, with no overwhelming combination of Alpha and Omega hormones. And security, burly men with serious guns, were everywhere, a steady, visible force. Sama felt, in a strange, perverse way, safer here than she ever had in her gilded cage at home.

It was almost midnight when Alex elbowed her again, her own eyes shining with mischief. "You got this one," she whispered, a wide, wicked grin growing on her face. "Far end. Go get 'em!"

Sama followed Alex's gaze to the bar's darkest corner. She started to smile, a customer-service smile she knew so well, and then she stopped.

A scent rose to her, in spite of the filtered air: earthy, rich, unmistakably male. Not overpowering, but certain, it caused her stomach to clench. And then her eyes located him, and she forgot to breathe.

His eyes – blue? Green? A incredible, shifting color in between. Dark brown hair, slightly wavy and gloriously mussed, fell to his shoulders. High cheekbones merged into a sharp, hard jawline. He was heart-stoppingly handsome. And dangerous.

He was completely out of place in a perfectly tailored dark grey suit, almost glowing in the dim light, an illusion of a man who belonged to the shadows. And he was staring directly at her, a slight smirk playing on his full lips.

All the warning bells in her mind screamed, but she kept the smile pasted on her face, pressing on. "What can I get you tonight?" she cooed, pleased her voice didn't tremble.

He didn't answer immediately, his gaze unwavering, studying her as though trying to read her deepest secrets. It was as if he could look right through her.

No. No. No.

"Whiskey," he finally responded, his voice a low, gravelly growl that sent shivers down her spine.

His eyes didn't leave hers until she finally broke the stare, turning to prepare the drink, her movements almost frantic. He was staring at her as if he knew her, and that frightened her to her very bones.

No, please. She couldn't leave this little town. Not yet. She wasn't ready to have to make another dash for it, though her packed bag, with its stash of cash to keep her going for a while, was never out of reach. No one would ever suspect she was here, in the middle of Nowheresville. Her dad hadn't sent anyone for her that she knew of. It was just her imagination, wasn't it?

She almost collided with Alex, who was getting ready to perform a flaming shot. "Please, Alex, get him to drink this instead," Sama whispered urgently, beckoning secretly toward the man in the corner. If Alex was glance-ing, she'd see the terror in Sama's eyes, the anxious catches in her breath.

Alex, though, was already captivated by the shouting crowd, focused on her performance. Sama's plea was lost in the noise.

She forced herself to take a deep breath and return to mysterious Alpha. It's all right. She was being ridiculous. Not everybody was looking for her. The guy wasn't from around here, okay, but that didn't mean that he'd drag her back to the East Coast kicking and screaming. Security would prevent him anyway.

All was well.

But when her eyes locked with his again, there was a shock, a wild tremor, that coursed through her. He was even more beautiful up close. She was immobile as his full lips touched the whiskey glass, and for a ridiculous moment, she wished she were that glass. She could almost feel those lips on her, tracing a path down her neck—

"Thank you," he murmured, setting down the glass. "You can put this on my tab." He offered a card, his fingers brushing against hers as she accepted it. The contact shocked her, a powerful, magnetic tug that was both repulsive and compelling. Was he trying to employ Influence? Her mind raced. She could utter the word, and the bouncers would throw him out. Exerting Influence on employees was a lifetime banishment offense, not to mention a good ass-kicking. But there was no warm, tingly feeling that came with actual Influence, only attraction.

"Something the matter?" he taunted, a slight smirk back in place. She simply stood there, frozen, her mouth half open.

"No," she finally got out, shaking off the spell. Screw this. She hadn't traveled so far to be rattled by some suit-wearing stranger, no matter how good-looking. Those alarm bells in her head wouldn't quiet. She let her flirtatious bar persona drop, her eyes cooling. "If there's anything else you need, Alex Henry will take care of you. She's the blonde."

She shoved his card back across the counter, the chilled metal a solid pressure on her palm. His smirk faltered, replaced for a moment by a scowl, but it was over before it began.

His scent still lingered, a phantom presence, but when she glanced over to the corner of the bar, he was no longer there. She could breathe again.

And in case he did come back, well, she'd be ready. It had all been her imagination, anyway.