Chapter Two
Charlotte
Cleveland Club was one of the trendier places in the city, and Charlotte realizes she had no idea how she was going to get in.
As she trudges up the stairs from the subway station, she looks up to see a neon sign in front of her advertising that the line began around the corner.
There were already people lined up around the block to get in, betas and alphas all dressed in fashionably skimpy clothes, chatting with their friends and one couple even making out against the building.
She doesn't have to worry long, though. Near the main entrance, she spots a familiar blonde figure waving at her from the door. Gwen was waiting outside for her, shooing her past the people in the lineup.
"Don't worry, we're on the list," she tells Charlotte. The beta looks down at the outfit she had landed on, her eyes flicking over her lack of curves quickly with a little frown on her pretty, perfectly made-up face. "You're cute, but a little formal."
"It was all I had," Charlotte mumbles, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. Gwen's outfit fit in perfectly, the beta wearing a pair of figure-hugging jeans, impossibly high heels, and a silk crop top with thin straps that showed off her toned arms and stomach.
The bouncer nods once at Gwen and opens the door for them, not even bothering with checking the list or their IDs.
Inside the club was loud, louder even than Tim's Bar, with a deep pounding bass that echoed through her racing heart. It was packed with people dancing and drinking. The overwhelming alpha scents nearly knock her over, but Gwen keeps a firm grip on Charlotte's hand, winding her through the crowd.
"They're in a booth in the back," she shouts in her ear. "Don't worry, it'll be quieter. You'll be able to chat and get to know each other."
And true to her word, as they make their way to the back of the club and through another door guarded by two huge alpha bouncers, the music quiets as the doors shut, leaving only the distant sound of the bass.
Soundproofed, Charlotte guesses distantly.
Her head is spinning from the loud music in her sensitive ears and all the scents that still tickle her nose.
It seems like a different world back here, more like a small trendy restaurant than a night club.
There were multiple semi-private booths set into the wall and a sleek bar at the end.
She sees a few pretty beta servers tending to their patrons and sashaying their hips as they walk, lips quirked in flirtatious smiles as they deliver bottle service to the tables.
"Over here, doll," Gwen says, her voice quieter now.
She leads Charlotte to a booth in the back where three alphas are sitting, tumblers of amber liquid in front of them and seemingly deep in a private discussion.
Their designation is undeniable by their size, broadcasting alpha before she can even scent them.
"Here we are," Gwen announces, her arm around Charlotte now as if presenting her to the group like she's a prized pony.
"Gentleman," Gwen greets them with a smile. "May I introduce you to Lottie. Lottie, this is Silas, Tomas, and Alex."
The three alphas freeze when they see her approach the table, and her heart stutters in her chest as she halts before them, the scent of her terror filling the space around them.
There is a horrible, awkward silence that descends on all of them that feels like it might shatter in a thousand splintering shards.
The air itself turns tense and brittle, burning her lungs with every inhale.
Silas Sterling is the first to break out of his shock. His tone is polite and cautioning, every bit the professional she knew he was. "Good evening, Miss Hines. We were not expecting to see you here tonight."
"Mr. Stirling, Mr. Butler, Mr. Front," she greets them, her voice sounding oddly strangled.
She suddenly fights the urge to pull her skirt down, so it covers more of her legs.
She misses the cardigan and opaque tights she usually paired with this dress when she wore it to the office to make it more appropriate.
Hell, maybe she could snatch a tablecloth to hide under?
There is a desperate need to cover herself in their presence, to make herself presentable even while shame and horror fight for dominance inside her chest and nausea threatens to turn her stomach.
How could this be happening? Was this a joke? Was she being pranked? The kids in high school used to love to prank her, but these three couldn't be so cruel, could they?
"Do you guys know each other?" Gwen's voice is shocked and confused, eyes flitting between the four of them.
Silas Stirling, Alex Butler, and Tomas Front. The namesake founders of the publishing firm she had been fired from. The three alphas who she had had a crush on for the past year.
She doesn't know how to answer Gwen's question. They did not strictly know each other, as the powerful men in the c-suite weren't her friends or anything. She was surprised they even remembered her, considering she was just an intern. A nobody.
And now she was standing before them, being offered to them as a sugar baby.
A mutually beneficial arrangement. Basically a prostitute.
Shame takes over the horror inside her, blossoming up her throat.
Or is that vomit? It could definitely be vomit, considering the way her stomach is still churning.
"We've met," Tomas takes over in a clipped voice, his voice commanding as he regains control of the situation. He dismisses Gwen without a second glance. "Thank you, Miss Pratchett, that will be all. Miss Hines, sit."
Gwen's eyes shoot between them, meeting Charlotte's stunned gaze before nodding and backing away at the unspoken order in Tomas' statement.
"I'll email you tomorrow," she tells Charlotte, and then she's gone, and Charlotte is left alone with them.
∞∞∞
Tomas waves a hand to the empty bench across from them in the booth and Charlotte sinks into it at his second silent command, wishing the earth would swallow her up whole.
She's unable to stop her arms from wrapping around herself now, her hands clutching tightly to her sides as if that might hold her together.
"Miss Hines," Tomas says again, after what feels like an eternity. "Can you explain to us why you are here?"
Her breath catches and she looks anywhere but at them.
Looking at Tomas is like looking directly into the sun. He's blinding in his intensity. She's pretty sure if she looks straight at him, he'll burn her retinas in the process.
His silvery blonde hair is swept back in a devastatingly casual way and there is a light dusting of a beard on his face that's longer than it was last time she saw him.
His blue grey eyes are still just as piercing as she remembers, the weight of his gaze stabbing holes directly through her tattered omega soul.
"I'm um—" her voice stutters. "I guess I'm looking for a sugar daddy," she mumbles to the table. The words echo in her ears, shameful and foolish. She wishes she could take them back, swallow them all from where they hang in the air between them and run back to her nest and never leave.
The men look between each other, although she can't make out their meaning, still unable to look at them as she is. They're probably horrified. Disgusted to see her like this. Ashamed they ever hired her in the first place.
She fixes her gaze on the table in front of her, a dark raw wood that she itches to run her fingers over, to feel every divot, anything to distract her from this new hell she's found herself in.
"Do we not pay our interns enough?" Silas asks finally. "That you would need to seek out... something like this? Gwen said you needed help with your university tuition."
"I-I do," she says, answering them but not giving them anything more. She once more fights the urge to run out of the room and straight back to her nest. "I'm uh—I'm not an intern anymore, though."
"You quit?" Alex asks in surprise.
She squirms in her seat uncomfortably. "No," she says, her voice trailing off.
They're all silent. When she peeks up at them, she sees them looking varying degrees of impatient and confused.
She realizes she needs to give them more information to work with or risk angering them with her short responses, even though her brain can barely generate anything other than shock and horror and vomit, apparently. "I was let go. My visa expired."
That stuns them. Once more, they say nothing for what feels like several long minutes. When she finally, finally finds the courage to peek up again, she sees all three of them staring at her with furrowed brows, each of their gazes equally calculating.
Something about their stares seems to eat right through all her reservations and she cannot stop the feeling welling up in her that urges her to unburden herself on them.
With a great sigh, Charlotte can do nothing to prevent the words spewing out of her mouth with rapid succession.
At least word vomit was better than actual vomit, right?
"I could only get a one-year student visa without a guardian's permission.
I'm an unbonded omega, so the rules are stricter.
I don't have a guardian because my parents died when I was a baby, and I haven't perfumed yet, so I don't have a mate.
Without my visa, my scholarship is expiring, and a very nice lady from your HR department let me go from the internship.
The university hasn't expelled me yet, but I think that's just because they haven't realized my visa is expired, or maybe they just don't care as long as I pay the tuition somehow.
"I worked so hard to get into this program and I don't want to quit now, and I have no one else to turn to and nothing waiting for me back home if I go now, since there aren't really any job protections—or any protections, really—for omegas up north, so I was hoping if I just finished the degree, maybe I could get a job with a visa, and everything would be okay and I could stay here.
The laws here don't restrict unbonded omegas from working at least."
She was babbling in a great rush, she knew it, but she couldn't make herself stop talking.
"I understand if you're not interested, though. I'm sure you were looking for someone else for this... arrangement."
To her absolute horror, she feels her lip starting to tremble as tears well in her eyes as she finishes her tirade.
The men who had been shocked into silence now looked at her with something in her eyes that she couldn't place. Pity probably. She had received a lot of pity in her life. Poor little orphaned omega. She can't even hit puberty properly or find a mate.
Poor broken little omega.
"I'll go," she says quickly, making to stand up and scoot out of the booth, willing the tears to reabsorb into her eyes so she could get out of here and find the nearest hole to crawl into and lick her wounds in peace.
"We didn't say that." Tomas' voice is low and slow like a crouching predator. His gaze is somehow scalding and icy all at the same time. "Who said we weren't interested?"
At his words, she feels something flutter inside her and she freezes. It is deep in her belly—deeper than she had ever felt anything before—and she feels a buzzing warmth bloom between her legs.
"You um—" she stutters. Her voice is barely more than a whisper. "—You're interested? I know my tuition is expensive, but I only work four nights a week, and otherwise I'm yours. I mean—"
She was babbling again, words tumbling out but she couldn't seem to stop them. Whatever their presence did to her, it seemed to have removed all of her verbal filters which usually kept her nearly mute around anyone else.
"You're ours, huh?" Alex grinned, saving her from herself before she can dig herself another grave with another tirade. "I like the sounds of that."
"The money isn't the problem," Silas continues, ignoring his packmate. His face is earnest and kind, just like she remembered. "You just need help with tuition? Not your rent or living expenses?"
"No," she says quickly, "I have a job. I'm okay for that. I can take care of myself. It's just the tuition, now that I've lost my funding."
Tomas' gaze is unwavering as he stares her down, his finger flicking back and forth against his lip as if in thought. She squirms under the weight of it, her own lip igniting with sensation as she can't help but imagine what it would feel like if he touched her lips with that finger.
"Come to our house tomorrow. We'll discuss this more in private," he says finally.
Silas looks at him as if seeking confirmation and then pulls a card out of his wallet and slides it across the table to her. It has their personal contact information on it and an address.
"Noon."