Chapter 1 In which I receive an exclusive invite

It is a truth universally acknowledged that my mother is a twat.

Not the opening line you were expecting? Well, tough shit. Just like the shit spewing over the phone into my ear from her twat shaped mouth. “You were fired?” She shrieks. “How could you get fired, Sadie? That job was so fucking easy a monkey could do it.”

I frown, but don’t interrupt her to say that the job is not easy. It’s actually pretty complicated selling drugs to doctors and hospitals and pharmacies. Especially when the company you work for is Apex Pharma and they’re quietly under investigation by the FDA.

“I got you that job! Do you know how this reflects on me?” There’s a pause. One that’s long enough that I realize she’s waiting for a response from me.

“I’m guessing, poorly?” I say like it’s a question, when I know for a fact that’s what she means. Even though she did not ‘get me’ the job. Sure, she mentioned I was looking to my old physician, Dr. Schwab, and then got me in contact with the hiring rep, but I’m the one that actually landed the job, and did it well enough that I’ve worked there for years.

“Poorly?” My mother’s voice rises in octaves until I wince and pull the phone away from my ear, glancing around the cafe I’m sitting in to see if anyone else can hear the high-pitched string of bullshit spewing out of my phone.

They can’t.

Thank god.

As she continues to go off on a tangent to berate me, I pick up my cappuccino and take a sip, then raise my eyebrows as I look down at it. Damn. That is fantastic. I can see why this place is Sylvie’s favorite. I eye the selection of pastry in the case, and kind of wish I’d gotten one of those too.

“ Poorly !” my mother repeats, her voice rising to an octave that makes me cringe. “Yes, Sadie. Poorly. Disastrously. Catastrophically. I cannot believe you would do that to me.”

I take another sip of my coffee. “Mother, I didn’t do it to you. I honestly didn’t think it would affect you in the least. Besides,” I say, cutting her off when she would have continued on with her tirade. “I wasn’t fired, and I didn’t quit. I’m on a leave of absence. A paid leave of absence.”

“Because you fucked your boss and they’re afraid of a sexual harassment suit.” Anyone else might flinch at their mother’s using such crude language, but for me, it’s just a normal everyday occurrence.

“Exactly,” I agree, beaming at a man who eyes me with interest. I don’t really blame him. I’m not dressed for a quiet cup of coffee. No, I’m ready for a night out. Tight black dress, sky high heeled booties, large diamond fishnet stockings, cropped leather jacket. My light brown hair is pulled up into a loose bun, strands of hair artistically frame my face, and my lips are bright red.

I drove the two hours into town dressed like this. Though I have a pair of hard sole slippers in my car for driving. I could have gone to wherever Sylvie is staying and got ready with her, but she’s dealing with a lot of shit and didn’t offer. I didn’t want to intrude. Besides, I like being looked at like a prize. Like being admired. A beta has to stand out somehow amidst the alphas and omegas looking for a pack.

Especially when she wants to get laid.

Which is the plan for tonight.

Well, no. The plan for tonight it’s seeing one of my best friends and supporting her while she goes through a hard time, make sure she relaxes a bit and then find some dude with an enormous dick to lay me down and ruin my pussy.

Even if that rarely happens.

They try. Of course they do. But sometimes I just need… More.

More than what they can give me. More than a quick five-minute romp in the sheets.

Unfortunately, that is why I’m in this current situation of being momentarily unemployed. Not unemployed, I remind myself. On a forced sabbatical.

I’m going to quit. Eventually.

When I find a new job, to keep me occupied. But for now I’ll milk my former company, boss and the two dudes I was fucking for all their worth. Once again, I know how it sounds. But If they want to pay me to keep me quiet about just how easily not one but two of their high-ranking managers fell into bed with a subordinate, I won’t complain.

“I’m not going to sue,” I say grinning at the man with my red painted lips. Heartbreaker Red. “I was as much at fault as they were. Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a paid vacation while I look for another job.”

“How are you going to get another job, Sadie? This is the only one you’ve had. This is the one reference on your entire resume. Do you think they’re going to give you a glowing recommendation?”

My stomach sinks at her words. She’s not wrong. I wasn’t well enough to work during high school or college. Focusing on my coursework was hard enough as it was. The medications that they pumped into me made me feel loopy and untethered, dizzy and tired.

They still do when I take them. If I take them.

Which I don’t. Not anymore.

I’ve honestly never felt better.

I just might end up dying a lot sooner than anyone else thinks.

I push that thought aside.

“I gave them so many orgasms, they better have a glowing recommendation for me,” I mutter, pulling my eyes off the man who had been checking me out. This is the problem with my mother. She ruins fucking everything, even some casual eye fucking from across the room.

“As what, Sadie? A hooker? You going to go find yourself a pimp and sell yourself on the streets? What a proud mother I am! My daughter can’t hold down a job, but at least she gives good blowjobs.”

And I’m out.

“Well, as always, your maternal concern is heartwarming, but I’ve got to go. Lots of cocks to suck.” I pull the phone from my ear and hit the hang-up button before dropping the phone face down on the table and ignoring it when it buzzes again. I know from experience that she’ll call twice more, leave an angry voicemail and then promptly forget about me until I fuck up again.

Never have I met a woman less into being a parent than she is, but with the insane urge to berate me every time I make a mistake. Not out of worry for me, but because of how my fuck ups reflect on her.

I used to care about her opinion, but now I realize life is too short to cater to anyone else.

Ignoring the curious looks I’m getting from the other patrons of Bonheur , I pick up my cappuccino and take a sip, groaning at the flavor. Yeah, probably one of the best cappuccinos I’ve ever had. And if the coffee is this good, I’m sure that the pastry is going to be fucking epic. Better get one just to be sure.

Leaving my phone and drink on the table, I head to the counter.

The first bite of the kouign amann hits my tongue like a freaking symphony of flavors. The flaky, buttery puff pastry, the layers of vanilla sugar, the slight bite of sea salt. Deceptively simple. But I’m pretty sure it would be so easy to fuck it up. As is the way with most French pastry.

But damn if I don’t want to try. I take another bite, then eye the case full of baked goods, halfway wishing I’d bought more than one, but no. If I’m going to be drinking my calories tonight, then I can’t eat my weight in butter, flour and sugar, no matter how much I might want to.

I’ll just have to make this one last.

With that thought in mind, I set the pastry down and pick up my drink again, cradling it in both hands and turning my head to people watch out the window. I have a few hours until I need to meet Sylvie. Enough time for a second cup of caffeine to keep me going.

I should spend this time looking for another job. I should scroll through the help wanted ads. My mother is right. I haven’t had any other jobs besides the one I’m currently leaving, and although I totally kicked ass at it, leaving under these circumstances is definitely less than ideal.

Maybe I need to do something like Sylvie does, become an accountant and work from home with just a handful of clients. Or maybe Sorrel will hire me for the summer. I’m sure I could learn how to fry up hamburgers in her restaurant, The Snack Shack , up on Kilrose Lake. At the very least, I could bus tables and do the dishes.

Maybe be in charge of the little bar that opens on the dock behind the restaurant on the weekends. I can mix a mean margarita.

Sorrel never hires enough people. Always thinking she can do it herself. That she has to do it herself, even though she never wanted to own a restaurant in the first place. Slinging burgers is not her dream.

It’s not mine either, but I’d like to help out my best friend. Well, my other best friend.

“You need a cock to suck? You can call me Katniss, cause I volunteer as tribute.” A low voice says from right next to my table. Right. Because I said that out loud. Of course, someone is going to take that as an invitation. Probably the guy who was eye fucking me earlier. I sigh and turn my attention away from the window, a frown already pulling at my red lips.

But it melts right along with my panties as I take in the man standing next to me. Did I say ‘man’? Because I meant God . He’s a fucking god. Pale white blond hair long on the top and shaved at the sides, falls over a golden forehead. Dark eyebrows slash over gold eyes. I mean actually gold eyes. I don’t know if they’re contacts or what, but holy hell, I’ve never seen eyes that color. He’s got high cheekbones and a plush mouth I want to lick and he’s tall and wide, but not too big. Big enough that I’ll feel small compared to him, but not that’s it’ll be uncomfortable to fuck him.

I blink as I battle the image of us having sex right here in this freaking cafe on this very table, in front of all these people like a claiming, and then shake the image away. I’ve already ruined my panties just by looking at him, I don’t need to ruin the chair I’m sitting on, too.

As a beta, I don’t pay a lot of attention to scents. I don’t have a scent match. Not like bonded packs and their omegas. The most I do is make sure whoever I’m planning on hooking up with doesn’t smell like rotting fish or burned popcorn or something equally as stomach churning. But this guy, this alpha, smells so good my mouth waters after the faintest inhale.

Coconut and sun and sea salt, a faint hint of rum. A boozy day at the beach. That’s what he smells like and I am here for it. So fucking here for it.

His gold eyes are watching me intently, as intently as I’m watching him, flitting from my messy bun to my tight dress over the diamond fence fishnet thigh highs and down to my black ankle booties.

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” he murmurs, his mouth pulling into a wide grin. “Like really fucking pretty.”

Usually, if a man approaches me about a blowjob before we’ve even exchanged a greeting, I’ll tell him off. But something about this guy has me tipping my lips into a smile, unusually flattered by his easy compliment.

“Thank you. You’re pretty too.” And good lord, is that fucking true.

He preens under my compliment, shoulders straightening just the slightest bit. “I know.”

I laugh and shake my head, brows arching as I wait for him to continue. But he doesn’t say anything else, just stands there staring at me with those gold eyes of his. Under normal circumstances, I might have felt… unsettled by such intense regard, but with him? It feels fucking natural that his eyes should be on me.

And then he leans down, one hand going to the table, the other to the back of my chair, until his nose is on my neck. Goosebumps ripple over my flesh as he takes a big inhale, then groans. “You smell good too.”

My fingers tighten on his shirt—wait, when did my hand move to his shirt?—and I pull him closer. Burying my nose in the hollow behind his ear to breathe him in the way he’s breathing me in. This is… fucking inappropriate as hell for a coffee shop in the late afternoon. But I can’t seem to get myself to stop.

The alpha chuckles and slides his cheek along mine, scent marking me.

It’s startling enough that I pull back from him.

A complete stranger just scent marked me.

That… that shit is even more inappropriate.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, grinning down at me. “You’re meant to be mine, anyway.”

Something about the gleam in his eyes as he says it makes my heart thud heavily in my chest. And, even though I know it’s not true, some part of me wishes it was. A really large part of me does.

“Is that so?” I ask, arching a brow and his grin just widens.

“Yep.”

I hum and toy with my plate. Why am I toying with my plate? Am I nervous? What? No. I can’t possibly be. I’m never nervous around men. Ever. Or at least not since I was a teenager.

We linger there in silence for a moment, and just as I open my mouth to ask his name, his phone rings. He doesn’t pull it out, but his smile morphs… it turns from beaming into something a little more feral, dangerous. “I have to go,” he says, gold eyes still fixed on me. “But I want to see you again.”

“Does this qualify as ‘seeing’?” I ask, pulling my hand from the plate and shifting to face him more fully.

“We’re looking at each other, aren’t we?”

I laugh and his face lights up. “I suppose we are.”

A second later, he slides a black card embossed in gold on the table. “Give this to the bouncer at the door. He’ll let you into the VIP section. Free drinks on the house. Good for tonight only.”

I don’t look at the card. I’m honestly not sure I can look away from this beautiful alpha standing in front of me. “You’ll come?” he asks, sounding hopeful as hell.

“I’ll come,” I agree, without thinking. Something about him just makes me feel … That’s it. He makes me feel, which is a hell of a lot more than any of the other guys I’ve been with, including the two asshats I just got fired over.

“Fuck yeah, you will,” he growls in a tone that tells me he means I’ll be coming in bed on his cock. And just like that, I’m wet between my legs again. His nostrils flare, like he can scent my arousal, which isn’t possible for a beta, but the look he gives me tells me he knows what just happened in my panties.

He leans down and rubs his cheek on mine again, presses a soft kiss there and then strides away from me, singing along with the song playing over the sound system. Heartbreaker by Marina.

My lips curl into a smirk at the coincidence because the shade of red on my lips is called Heartbreaker. Kismet.

As the door closes behind the pale-haired alpha, I pick up the card, running a thumb over the raised text. It feels fucking fancy as hell, which I suppose is the case if it’s an invitation to the VIP section of the club.

Still grinning like a loon, I pick up my phone and send a text to Sylvie to see if she’s up for a change of plans.