Of course an Alpha like Hendrix would have a pack.
I drop my eyes to hide my disappointment, but he doesn’t let me hide for long.
“They would welcome you with open arms, I know it.” He says it simply. And for an outsider, someone who doesn’tunderstand my family or the duty I have, life could probably be that simple.
“You already know I have a pack too. You’ve even met my Alpha.” He narrows his eyes as I answer him, truth for truth. “It is what it is, Hendrix. You’re the owner of a sex club, so I have no doubt you’ve seen and heard it all.”
“And what does that have to do with you breaking it off with him.
“I won’t do that.”I can’t do that.
“I don’t get the angle you’re coming from,” he says calmly, but in his eyes, I can see he’s having trouble getting past the fact I won’t end things but am trying to start things too.
Considering he can’t separate the two, and since I’ve got a pocket full of his money, I’m struck by another possible scenario that might work better. It’s cheeky as heck, but it might make it easier for him to accept. “We could always set this up as a paid relationship, like your staff do with their regulars.”
He misses the tone, and my teasing smile, getting caught on the words only. “I don’t work the floor,” he hisses.
“I’m not asking for public displays,” I answer quietly, looking at the glass fronted display cabinet rooms set up along the side of the room for that very reason. If he listens better, he’ll see I just want him, no matter how it happens.
“I don’t fuck other people for money, Simona,” he bites back.
And before I can temper my hurt, I snap back, suddenly frustrated at him. “We probably won’t befuckingeither.”
“Excuse me?” he asks, exaggerating each word.
“No vaginal penetration or knotting is allowed.”
He stands straighter, crowding me as I share with him my other condition. His scent is starting to build and roil around us, exactly like storm clouds gathering on the darkening horizon.The features on his face harden, his green eyes becoming brittle like broken glass, and I prepare for the inevitable pain that’s to come.
“What else do you want out of this very one-sided arrangement you’re so graciously offering?” He lashes out like I betrayed or tricked him, which is the complete opposite of what I wanted to do.
I had hoped, naively it seems, that he would see I was desperate for anything and that we could come to some sort of agreement. But now I’m coming face to face with the venom of his anger. I was foolishly hoping it wouldn’t happen, but it seems as though Hendrix is the same as all the other Alphas in my life.
I push out of his space before taking a step further away from his warmth. I’d rather be cold and alone than deal with someone who won’t listen to me.
“I knew I was asking a lot. It was always going to be a hard ask but nowhere in that did I ask you to be spiteful or hostile. A simple no would have been enough.”
I’ve been here—in this space where the power shifts. I’ve also been locked into awful situations because of it. I won’t do it, no matter how much I ache for anything to do with Hendrix.
From my handbag, I unpack his watch and phone, the rest of the cash along with his black Amex. The gesture speaks clearer than any words I could find.
“Simona,” he hisses, “we need to talk about this.”
The way he speaks my name—sharp edged and unyielding—is a sign of his anger. Whether it’s directed at me or the situation is irrelevant. I’ve already been the victim of an Alpha’s emotions, the scars etched deep into my soul, with the awful reality of my future still looming because of them. I don’t need to endure anyone else’s emotions. Not now. Notwhen I’m already drowning in the anxiety of knowing I’ve screwed this up.
I’m running out of spoons, and the few I have left need to be for me.
This time my throat constricts as my chest fills with a well of sadness. “Sorry for wasting your time.”
His hand reaches out to stop me leaving, but I keep walking despite his hold. And he lets me leave. But the way he’s holding my arm means our fingers glide together. The way he moves is at odds with his words. Instead of being comforted, I only find the gesture more hurtful.
I realise I’m being demanding, and he wasn’t wrong saying this arrangement was one-sided. I really thought the connection we share would be enough to make up for the difficulties any situation involving me would include.
Walking away without giving him the chance to explain doesn’t feel like a cop-out either. Each step I take toward the exit becomes easier and his influence falls away completely by the time I’m walking down the stairs, although the ache in my chest amplifies with each passing second.
There is no grand, dramatic scene where he chases me down the street. I’m not living between the pages of a romance novel. Sadly, I learnt long ago I never would be. Even as a little girl growing up, I knew my life was not my own.
I just hoped I would have had this chance. But that is on me clinging to hope, even knowing how futile that is.
