Chapter Five

As a child, I used to love dancing. So much so that I pleaded with my parents to take dancing lessons back in the Winter-Hill Pack. When I danced, I became one with the music. In a way, it was freedom.

Not anymore.

Now it was no more than a performance. It was me trying to be something I was not.

My heels clicked against the tiled floor as I made my way to the sound system. The song I’d selected was slow, gentle—but it had an edge to it, the perfect song.

I started on the pole, going through various routines. And I had his full attention, but his eyes remained unreadable, leaving me unable to tell if he was actually enjoying this. I’d never wanted to be in a man’s head so bad as I wanted to be in his. And so, throwing caution out the window, I made my way to where he was seated, then lowered myself down on his laps.

There it was, the glint in his eyes as he cocked an amused brow.

“Scared?” I questioned, not minding the fact that I was the one with the heart in her throat. I’d never felt this intimidated by a client before, and perhaps boldness was exactly what I needed to counter that.

“No,” came his answer, just when I thought I wouldn’t be getting one. 

I leaned in, so my lips were inches away from his ear. “You should be,” I whispered.

Slowly, I rocked my hips to match the music, running my hands up my cleavages as I did, and then…

I felt it. His hardened member. This was supposed to be the moment I stood up, after all I’d won, I’d ‘learnt’ him, just as I’d promised myself I would. But for some reason I couldn’t explain, I didn’t.

The music had stopped playing, I should put on something new and begin my next routine, but I did none of that. I felt his hands, against my hips, and then he pulled me closer so I grinded against his hardened member.

A sound escaped me, one I’d given to many other clients before, but this time… it wasn’t an act.

Faking it was the only way I remained in control, it was the only way I remained a step ahead, while giving my clients the illusion that they were. But this…this changed everything, and it scared me.

Yet, I couldn’t shake off the need rising in me, it was a feeling that had gone numb for a very long time, well ever since Jefferson.

Jefferson. 

“Stop,” I whispered beneath my breath, but the word never did leave my lips. “Stop!” I cried out and to my surprise he instantly let go, and I rose to my feet.

How had I let this happen? How had I let the thoughts of Jefferson get to me once again?

I’d believed I was way past this, and I was. I was one of the most sorted after workers in The Bishopp Establishment, and I had a reputation to maintain. But for the first time in years, I'd slipped. 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, “I… need a minute.” With that I sprinted for the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I leaned against it, taking a deep breath.

What the hell was that?

I should have stuck with my routines, why did I feel the need to prove something to a man who was no more than a stranger?

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

I couldn’t hide in here forever, I had to get back out there, and make things right.

I took one glance at the mirror and quickly fixed up my hair and make up, before heading out.

“I apologize—"

My words were cut off when I was met with an empty room. He was gone.

Well, I was totally fucked.

***

I’d only managed to put on my coat when the Bishopp barged in.

The Bishopp was a man in his late fifties. He had completely white hair which he’d always gathered at the nape of his neck. His signature color was black and in the two years I'd worked here I'd never seen him wear anything else.

I knew exactly why he was here. My client must have reported his dissatisfaction, and he was here to punish me for my failure. I’d plead for his mercy if I thought he had any to spare. The Bishopp was a man of rules and when even one of those rules was broken… Well, it never went on well.

“Sir,” I called, quickly rising to my feet.

What would my punishment be this time?

I couldn’t even bring myself to think about it without feeling sick.

“Ruby,” he acknowledged, his coffee brown eyes settling on me.

“To what do I owe this visit?” I questioned, choosing to play the fool.

“I’ve only come to check on you.”

I blinked. Did I hear him correctly?  No, I doubted it.

“To… check on me?” I blurted out in disbelief.

His gaze returned to mine, they were cold as always, but they held no anger.

That could only mean one thing. He didn’t know.

The man—whoever he was, hadn’t said anything to him about my incompetence.

Relief flooded through me at the realization, and I silently thanked the heavens for whatever had been his reason behind that decision.

“I should have given you some kind of warning before… sending you to him.” The Bishopp went on, and I thought I heard a tiny hint of guilt in his voice, but I must have been mistaken. “Alpha Cassian isn’t exactly known for being a gentleman.”

Wait, did he just say… Alpha?

Alpha Cassian. The name instantly struck a bell, but I couldn’t quite place where I’d heard it.

Suddenly, it made a whole lot of sense. I’d had that feeling that the client was a man in power and I was right.

Only then did I realize the Bishopp was waiting for me to say something.

“I—I’ve learnt to always expect the worst,” I said, and while that was true, I couldn’t exactly say my time with Cassian was my worst experience.

The Bishopp nodded, looking slightly impressed.

“He’d known my name,” I blurted, unable to mask my curiosity, “My true name,” I added.

The Bishopp didn’t look surprised to hear it. “The Netherlands Alpha knows everything.”

It clicked. I knew exactly where I'd heard the name from. It was from Jefferson.

I could still remember the resentment in his tone when he’d spoken to me about the Netherland’s Alpha, but beneath the resentment I'd sensed his envy. Still, I’d imagined the Alpha to be much… older. Not a man who looked barely in his thirties.

“You need not worry, Ruby. Last I heard, the Alpha and your ex-mate weren’t on very good terms, and I doubt that had changed in the years past.” The Bishopp said, misinterpretting my silence.  

A single thought. That’s all it started with. For so long, I’d waited in hopes I’d one day come up with a plan that was going to grant me the vengeance I desperately sought for, but I was only realizing now how impossible that was. Jefferson was an Alpha, and I was… wolfless. He had all the cards and I had none. The only way to win was by getting on the same level as he was.

I needed an ally. Someone powerful, someone who could even out the odds… and I think I might just have found that person.

But there was a limitation. After how badly I'd performed tonight, the chances of the Netherlands Alpha returning here was…well, zero.

That meant I had to find him. Now.