Chapter 8
8
M y pulse stutters, a mixture of anger and anticipation coursing through my veins.
Beside me, Raphael tenses. “Is this a new kind of interview process for your customers?”
“You’ve never purchased from my club before.” Vince rattles the ice cubes in his glass. “Indulge me.”
Raphael’s hand settles on the back of my neck, his thumb slipping beneath the nape guard to circle his Mark. “You heard the man, pet. Show him who you belong to.”
Mouth dry, I swallow hard. I know the role I have to play, but the thought of submitting to Raphael, even in pretense, while my team is listening…
I force back the surge of emotions threatening to take control. This is just another mission, another challenge to be overcome. I can do this.
Head bowed in a gesture of submission, I sink to my knees at Raphael’s feet. A rumble of approval comes from Vince’s direction, but I block out the sound, focusing on Raphael.
“Good boy.” His fingers thread through my hair, gentle pressure on the back of my neck guiding me forward. “You’re doing so well.”
Raphael’s pheromones fill my nostrils, thickening with arousal despite our current situation, and they awaken an answering desire within me.
I reach for the front of Raphael’s slacks, my fingers trembling slightly as I work his belt open.
His hand closes over mine, stilling my movements, and a single finger lifts my chin, amusement in his expression. “Beg.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks as I recognize the reversal of our positions from a few days ago, when I made him kneel at my feet and beg for my help. Now, with Vince watching our every move, I have no choice but to comply.
Swallowing my pride, I slide a hand up Raphael’s muscular thigh. “Please, Alpha.”
His grip tightens on my chin. “Tell me you need me.”
The words stick in my throat, but I force them out, keeping the promise of retribution off my face. “I need you.”
Raphael’s lips curve into a smirk. “Good boy. You can have your treat now.”
With shaking hands, I unzip his slacks, freeing his semi-hard cock. The heady scent of his arousal fills my nostrils, and I can’t suppress a shudder of desire. It’s been so long since I’ve had him like this, since I’ve tasted him, that worries about our audience slip away.
I lean forward and wrap my lips around the head of his cock, swirling my tongue over the velvety, heated flesh. A low groan escapes Raphael’s throat, his fingers tightening in my hair as I take him deeper into my mouth.
His cock comes to full hardness, stretching my lips with his girth. A needy whimper escapes as I lose myself in the familiar rhythm, hollowing my cheeks and relaxing my throat to accommodate his length. The weight of him on my tongue, the salty tang of his pre-cum, and the way his thighs tremble beneath my hands are all intoxicating, clouding my thoughts.
Slick leaks from my entrance, my inner muscles clenching and unclenching with the desire to be filled.
Raphael’s hips jerk forward, thrusting into my mouth with increasing urgency as his breathing grows ragged above me. With a final flick of my tongue, he comes with a low growl, his release flooding my mouth.
I swallow, throat working to take down every last drop. When he’s spent, I pull back, tucking him away before I open my mouth to show him it’s empty.
“Such a hungry boy.” Raphael’s thumb traces the curve of my bottom lip. “You did well. Now, stand up and let them see you.”
My legs shake as I rise to my feet, and the dress does nothing to hide my unfulfilled arousal.
Vince stands from the couch, licking his lips with a hunger that disgusts me.
“Quite the specimen.” He circles me like a shark scenting blood in the water. “I was wrong in my initial concern.”
Raphael’s jaw tightens, a muscle twitching in his cheek. “He knows his place.”
“I’m not so sure.” He reaches out to run a finger along my jaw. “This one might need a firmer hand.”
Raphael’s arm shoots out, and he grips the club owner’s wrist in a vice-like hold, ignoring the guards who pull their guns in threat. “Touch him again, and you’ll lose that hand.”
For a moment, the two men stare each other down, the tension in the room rising. I hold my breath, my heart hammering as I wait for the inevitable explosion.
Then Vince laughs, a sharp, humorless sound as he pulls his hand free. “Easy there, friend. I was only admiring the merchandise.”
Rage flashes across Raphael’s face, but he manages to keep his composure. “My pet is not for sale. Now, I believe we have business to discuss.”
“Of course.” Vince gestures to his guards, and the one closest to the door opens it. “Allow me to show you the available products. I look forward to seeing your pet find a friend.”
Finally, we’re getting to the main event.
We leave the private room, guards falling in behind us.
Vince walks three steps ahead, his shoulders squared with the confidence of a man who owns this small part of the world. I count each guard we pass. One at the top of the stairs. Two more at the landing. Another stationed by a water cooler who isn’t fooling anyone.
My dress whispers against my arousal with each step, and I will the stubborn heat to fade. It doesn’t help that Raphael’s hand rests at the small of my back, a possessive touch that’s supposed to be for show but feels all too right.
“You’re going to love what I have for you today.” Vince flashes a smile that leaves the rest of his face flat. “My finest selection yet.”
I keep my expression neutral, playing the role of the docile Omega. The submissive pet. My instincts fight against the pretense, but I stifle them. Five years of running my business alone has taught me the art of becoming whoever I need to be.
“I expect nothing less,” Raphael replies, his fingers pressing harder into my back in a silent prod to stay focused.
As if I need the reminder. I can compartmentalize the effect the Alpha has on my body, shift it to the back of my mind to leave the rest of me open to count steps, memorize the path, and note the cameras mounted in corners.
Fifteen steps down the main staircase. Hard right. Twenty-three steps down a narrow hallway with cinderblock walls that the thin wallpaper can’t disguise. The air grows thicker as we descend, heavy with fear-choked pheromones and limited ventilation.
No windows. No emergency exits. Just the staircase we came down and a service elevator at the far end of the hall that requires a key card.
If things go south, there’s only one way out, and it’s through at least six armed men.
“Is your pet always so tense?” Vince peers back at me. “Or is he just excited?”
Raphael’s thumb traces a small circle at the base of my spine. “He’s nervous about meeting his new playmate, aren’t you, pet?”
In answer, I turn my head to nuzzle Raphael’s shoulder and shove my reaction to his pheromones into the same compartment where my desire for him lives.
Vince purses his lips with disapproval. “You spoil him.”
“I believe in rewarding good behavior and punishing bad.” Raphael’s expression hardens. “He learned fast to be good.”
“The carrot or the stick.” Vince’s tongue skims over his bottom lip. “I like it when they choose the stick. It keeps things exciting.”
It takes everything in me not to draw my knife and stab him in his cocky face.
We pause at a heavy metal door at the end of the corridor. Two more guards flank it, both with semi-automatics held across their chests. They eye us with practiced indifference, but I don’t miss how their attention lingers on me for a beat too long.
Typical Alpha posturing. I fight the urge to show them what this Omega can do.
“We’ll need to verify the funds before proceeding.” All business now, Vince snaps his fingers.
A thin man in wire-rimmed glasses steps forward from a side room. He carries a tablet, his fingers tapping the screen with nervous energy.
“Standard procedure,” the man says, keeping his head down. “We need to confirm your… purchasing power.”
The guards shift their hold on their guns in a clear indication that this is not negotiable and what will happen if Raphael refuses.
“Of course,” Raphael’s voice drops to the authoritative Alpha tone that used to weaken my knees. It still does something to me, but I refuse to acknowledge it. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
The accountant—because that’s what he is despite the lack of an official title—holds out the tablet. “Account number and routing information, please.”
Raphael takes the tablet, his movements unhurried. His fingers move across the screen with practiced ease, inputting numbers for an offshore account we set up for this purpose. It contains enough money to buy a small island. The Rockford family’s resources have always been extensive.
Raphael returns the tablet. “Will that be adequate?”
His hand slides from my back to my hip, drawing me closer to his side. The motion is possessive, territorial, a silent message to everyone in the room that I belong to him.
For the sake of our cover, I lean into the touch, tilting my head to rest on his shoulder. I hate how my body responds to the proximity, how my heartbeat quickens and my scent shifts, becoming sweeter. Biological betrayal. Five years should have been enough to purge him from my system.
“Yes.” The accountant’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “More than adequate, Mr. Smith. I’ll just verify the transfer capabilities.”
The fake name sounds wrong on Raphael. He’s never been a Smith—too common, too ordinary for someone who commands attention simply by existing. Even now, playing the role of a wealthy Alpha looking for an Omega plaything, he radiates an authority that can’t be faked.
The accountant taps a few more times on the tablet, and the moment the transaction simulation completes, his posture changes, shoulders relaxing. He thinks no one will be dying today.
I make a mental note to take him alive. Money men always know more than their employers believe.
He turns to the club owner. “Everything checks out, Mr. Vince.”
Vince’s smile widens, showing far too many teeth. “Excellent. Then we can proceed.”
The guards move aside, one of them producing a key card. Is it the same one used for the elevator? Do all the guards carry them? The intel the Rockfords had gathered on the club hadn’t been able to verify that information, and I hate not knowing.
A heavy thunking sound comes from the door as it unlocks, followed by the soft hiss of a pneumatic system. More expensive security than I expected. Whatever’s behind that door, Vince values it highly.
“After you,” the club owner gestures with a flourish.
Raphael guides me forward with his hand still on my hip, his touch burning through the thin fabric of my dress.
“Remember,” he whispers, his breath a warm caress on my ear, “we’re only browsing. Don’t be greedy, pet.”
It’s part of our cover story of Mr. Smith, the wealthy Alpha, bringing his treasured Omega to help select a companion. But it’s also a reminder of our actual mission: reconnaissance. Find Jade. Map the facility. Get out. The real raid comes later, after we secure Vince when he leaves to go home.
As we step through the doorway, I take one last look back at the hallway, calculating distances and memorizing faces. Six guards in total. One accountant. Vince. The narrow staircase is our only exit. If anything goes wrong, it’s going to be a bloodbath.
Then the door closes behind us with a finality that raises the hairs on my arms.
We’re in.