Chapter 5

Sloane's POV

I spotted him before I was ready.

Crystal chandeliers. Champagne fountains. Omegas in designer gowns dripping with diamonds, Alphas in tailored suits comparing pack territories like they were trading cards. The whole estate smelled like money and perfume and ambition.

Then I looked up, and Dorian was standing by the marble fireplace.

Charcoal suit cut to every line of his body. Hair styled back, jaw clean-shaven, shoulders filling out the jacket in a way the boy I'd known in school never could have. He was talking to the host's father, nodding at something the old man said, and every line of him was polished and deliberate and expensive.

A group of she-wolves near the champagne table were whispering.

“Moon Goddess, look at him. He’s even better looking in person.I couldn’t help envying Colette for getting engaged to someone like him.”

“But I heard he hasn’t even acknowledged their engagement. Colette’s the one who keeps chasing after him.”

“Who cares? I’d let him do unspeakable things to me and thank him for it.”

I set my tray on the nearest surface and wiped my palms on my apron. Five years ago, I could have stood next to him in a dress that matched me. Now my nails were chipped quickly and my uniform smelled like bleach and cheap soap.

The distance between us wasn't just a ballroom. It was everything I used to be and wasn't anymore.

——

The after-party was a different world — dim lights, louder music, open bar. Staff were told to change into the uniforms Ella had distributed last week.

I pulled mine on in the service corridor and looked down.

"What?"

The skirt barely hit mid-thigh. Every other maid's uniform fell to the knee. Mine was a full four inches shorter — short enough that bending at all would cost me my dignity.

I tugged at the hem. It didn't budge.

I checked the storage closet. No spares, no extra fabric, nothing I could pin or wrap around my waist. Ella had said one per person, and I'd been too distracted by Dorian's name on that invitation list to check it beforehand.

Three omegas walked out of the changing area, took one look at me, and burst out laughing.

“Oh, look at her.” One of the Omega maids covered her mouth with her hand, eyes glittering with malice. “Did you get lost on your way to the red-light district?”

"Isn't she the one who loves showing off her chest when she walks?" One of them swung her hips in exaggerated mockery. "Tonight the whole room gets a free show."

My face burned. I smoothed the hem down one more time, picked up my tray, and walked out. Every step was small and careful. The fabric crept up with each one, and my free hand pressed against my thigh, holding the line.

The room was dim enough that I'd hoped to disappear into its edges. I was wrong.

"Well." A voice to my left, low and lazy.“I was told the service here was excellent,” he said. “But I didn’t expect dessert to be included.

A tall Alpha stepped into my path. Green eyes that caught the low light like a cat's, dark hair pushed off his forehead, a grin that had never once been told no and found the concept entertaining.

He plucked a glass from my tray without looking at it. His gaze slid down my legs and back up, slow enough to make sure I noticed.

"Those legs are something else." He tilted his head. "I'd love to leave my teeth marks on them."

I stepped back. "Thank you for the drink, sir. If you'll excuse me —"

He moved sideways, blocking my way. "I didn't catch your name. Or which pack you belong to."

"I have a child." I met his eyes. "I'm not looking to get involved with anyone. Please let me pass."

His grin stretched wider. "Single mothers are my favorite." He leaned in, and the whiskey on his breath hit me full in the face. "They know what a man's good for. One night with me — I guarantee you won't forget it."

Guests nearby were turning to stare. A server didn't start fights with guests. A server smiled and poured and disappeared.

"Sir." My knuckles went white around the edge of the tray. "Move."

Dorian's POV

From the far side of the hall, I'd been watching since the moment she walked out in that skirt.

Why is she wearing that? The question had been circling since I first saw the hem. Is she trying to attract —

She's NOT happy! Ash slammed against my ribs so hard I nearly flinched. Look at how she walks. She keeps pulling at it. Someone did this to her.

You always take her side. Traitor.

Then the green-eyed Alpha stepped into her path, and every muscle in my body went rigid.

Ash went from irritated to murderous in half a second. I watched the man lean toward Sloane. Watching her step back. Watched her chin lift the way it always did when she was holding herself together by her fingernails.

Bring her back. Ash's fury burned through my chest. That wolf is standing too close to what is OURS —

I set my glass down. "Sloane."

My voice cut across the noise. She turned.

Her fingers went straight to the hem of her skirt, tugging it down. Our eyes locked for half a second — then she looked away and walked in the opposite direction, slipping between guests to serve another table.

She wouldn't even come to me. She'd rather put up with that green-eyed bastard than take a step in my direction.

My jaw tightened until my teeth ached. I stood.

Sloane's POV

I'd barely reached the far wall when several omegas closed in.

"First one Alpha, now another?" One of them sneered. "Quite the busy evening."

Before I could answer, Ella's voice sliced through. "You." She pointed at a cluster of dirty tables near the center of the floor. "Those need wiping. Now."

The tables were low. The room was full. Every guest within ten feet would have a direct line of sight.

"Ma'am, could I take the bar to the station instead —"

"Did I ask what you preferred?"

I set my tray down. Picked up the rag. Walked to the first table.

The omegas had gathered along the edges, arms folded, faces bright with anticipation. I could feel their stares on the backs of my thighs.

I bent forward. The hem rode up. Laughter rippled behind me, and heat crawled from my neck down through my chest, all the way to my fingertips. I kept my eyes on the rag and scrubbed, trying to make my body as small as the space allowed.

The second table was even lower.

I reached for it — and something heavy and warm settled across my shoulders.

A black suit jacket. The scent hit me before I could turn around. Pine and clean soap and something deeper underneath that my body recognized before my brain caught up.

Dorian stepped past me and faced the room.

"Who is responsible for her uniform?"

His voice dropped the silence like a blade. Every head turned.

Ella straightened. "Just a small mix-up among the staff, sir. These things —"

"I asked who gave them the right to humiliate her." He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. His gaze swept the room — slow, unhurried, the look of a man who expected answers and would wait exactly long enough to make everyone afraid of giving one.

"Whoever tampered with that uniform. Step forward. Now."