4. Elena

Tonight's the night.

I've spent three days observing and learning all the nuances of working at High Roller. My sleep schedule has been completely fucked, and I haven't had a chance to really socialize with any of the other Omegas. Leisha had a different man each night vying for her attention, and every night, I wound up going to my room early because she took them to a private room.

I walk into the bathroom, and I'm shocked to finally see the Omega I'm sharing it with. She's sitting at the double vanity, putting on her makeup.

"Oh, I can come back," I say lamely.

"It's a shared bathroom for a reason. Take a seat," she commands, and I sit down, unfolding my makeup bag to get started. "You're Elena, the new girl, right?" she asks.

"Yes, you're Jade?"

"The one and only," she replies, putting on her eyeliner with razor-sharp precision.

"How long have you been here?" I ask conversationally.

"A while, not nearly as long as Leisha."

"She seems to really have this all figured out," I comment.

Jade laughs and shakes her head. "It doesn't take much to get what you need here. Don't feel like you have to live up to Leisha. We all offer something different."

"It's my first night solo," I confess in a whisper.

"Just sit with some guy, ply him with drinks, and he'll hand you money."

She puts a deep shade of red lipstick on her lips, that contrasts against her red hair perfectly, and smacks them as she examines herself in the mirror.

"It's truly that easy?"

"Yup. I'll bring a member their drink, and they'll just casually hand me fifty dollars. Every single one of those Alphas or Betas are well off. Take what you want," she states, placing her things in a neat stack in the corner.

"See ya around," she tells me before going back into her room and locking the door.

I look in the mirror, giving myself a pep talk. I can do this. I'm great at speaking to rich people, I've done it all my life. There's nothing different between one of my father's parties and tonight. Just go in there and be yourself, and most importantly, make money.

I give myself a nod, placing the final touches on my face before putting on my dress for the evening. This one is silk, with a deep swoop around my breasts that clings tightly against my chest and hips.

I've got this.

"Can I have a shot of tequila?" I ask Glade over the bar top.

"Nervous?" she asks.

"Is it that obvious?"

"It's cute. They'll eat that shit up," she replies.

I grimace, I don't want to be cute; I want to be powerful and awesome and keep Alphas on a leash like Leisha does.

"Another one," I request.

"Nope. No more," Leisha cuts in, putting her hand on top of mine. "Now, you're gonna get your sweet little ass down by the poker tables and just speak to someone. You don't have to touch, you don't have to do anything. Just go down there and talk to a very hot man in a very expensive suit."

"Right, yeah, totally. I can do this." I glance back at Glade as Leisha walks away, and I'm about to ask her for another shot.

Leisha doesn't even look around as her voice booms. "No more shots."

"Fuck, fine," I grumble. "Can you put ginger ale in a martini glass?" I ask Glade.

"Sure thing."

She fills the glass and hands it to me; I feel like I'll do better with something in my hands. Otherwise, I'll just stand around looking like a fraud.

Will these people be able to sense that I don't belong? That my sexual experience is primarily based on quickies in the back seats of cars, or that one time I had sex with Carter in his parent's pool? I don't exactly scream seductress or that I have a single clue that I know what I'm doing.

I hold my martini glass in one hand and wrap my other hand around my waist. I guess I'll just wait for someone to approach me. I'm being mysterious. Or maybe I look like a girl who's in way over her fucking head and doesn't have a clue of what she's doing. I keep comparing myself, feeling like I'm not as strong and outwardly confident as the other girls.

That's when a tall man in a perfectly fitting navy suit begins to approach me, his hair is a tousled dark brown, and his eyes are a beautiful forest green. He doesn't smile as his eyes track me intently.

He gets closer and closer until he's finally a few feet away from me.

"There you are, mo stór," he says.

I tilt my head, not knowing the language, and plaster a smile on my face. "I'm Elena."

He pauses for a second and holds out his hand. "I'm Ian." He draws out his name slightly like he isn't used to saying it, which is odd.

I take his large hand and shake it, but he tugs me a little closer instead of letting me go. He's scenting me, so I do the same.

My mouth automatically waters at his fresh spearmint and rosemary scent. Has an Alpha ever smelled this good before? I'm not sure they have. I take another deep inhale, and my breath stills. He smells delicious, beyond delicious, he smells like nothing I've ever experienced before. Not to mention his looks and his jacket is clearly expensive; I think it's a Brioni.

Shit, when did I put my hand on his jacket?

I drop my hand, and my cheeks heat as I look up at him. He gives me a small smirk.

"You can touch," he jokes. "It's Italian," he boasts, drawing the word out.

"It's very nice," I reply, not knowing what else to say.

"So, she has an eye for expensive things," he drawls. His accent is barely there, definitely Northern Europe.

Okay, what would Leisha do?He's handsome, he smells addictive, so flirting should be easy.

"Would you like to join me for a game of poker, Elena?" he asks and holds out his hand, which I take.

Fuck, his hand is big. He could probably wrap the whole thing around my neck and choke me to death. Maybe choke me in a fun way? I've never tried that before, but Leisha swears by it. Well, she's the one doing the choking, but still.

"You smell like vanilla icing. Are you as sweet as you smell?" he purrs into my ear, making my scent thicken even more.

When I look up at him, his eyes are gleaming with mischief, and the smirk still rests on his face.

He might just be the hottest man I've seen at this club yet, and out of all the Omegas here, he approached me. He pulls chips out of his pocket, tossing them onto the table. My eyes get stuck on his suit again, but I can't help that I like the way he dresses or that I like fancy things. You can take the mob boss's daughter out of her confines, but you can't take away her desire for luxury.

It helps boost my confidence as he takes a seat at the table, his large legs spread wide. He taps his thigh in offering.

I take the hint, placing my drink on the table before sliding down the back of my dress and perching on his lap. His hand automatically wraps around my waist, and he squeezes my rib cage lightly. A gasp of air slips out of me, and I shift slightly on his lap, getting comfortable while trying to calm my nerves.

"Good girl," he whispers against my cheek.

Okay, so fucking members will not be an issue. Well, at least not this one. I want to straddle his lap and take what I want right now. Monica deals the cards, snapping me back to reality.

Ian holds me close to his body, his soothing scent bringing me comfort as he uses his other hand to briefly look at his cards.

"How long have you been working here, Elena?" he asks.

Why do I like that he keeps tacking on my name at the end of every sentence? And why do I want his deep voice saying my name in a different context? I bet this man has a very filthy mouth that he could put to good use. I've never really experienced much dirty talk, but I think I'd like it.

He's also older than anyone I've ever been with, he's got to be experienced. That thought irritates me, even though I have no right to be jealous. What is going on with me?

It's probably just been too long since I got laid. It makes me feel needy and maybe slightly greedy, which is a good thing; it will help me make the most out of this job. Which is proving to be easier than I thought if all of these Alphas are anywhere near as attractive and attentive as this one.

"Tonight is my first night," I answer honestly.

His hand slides down from my rib cage, squeezing my hip lightly.

"That's good."

"Why exactly is that good?" I ask him in a soft voice.

His cards are flat on the table as he looks at me and smiles.

"I like being first," he states.

"Oh, well, I'm not a virgin," I spew out like an idiot.

He takes a pause for a moment and grabs his low ball glass to take a drink before putting it back down. Almost like he's surprised, or maybe irritated, by the fact that I'm not untouched.

"Want to know a secret?" he taunts, whispering into my ear, and I nod. "Neither am I."

I laugh and shift on his lap again. His hold on me is strong, and he smiles as I gather my composure.

"You don't say, I would have never guessed."

"I know, I have an innocent aura about me," he jests.

He's playing poker, yet his focus is on me. I like it far more than I'd like to admit. But that's why he pays to be a member, right? He could gamble anywhere in this town but chooses to pay an exorbitant amount of money to gamble here.

I'm feeling bold as I play with the lapel of his jacket. I'm not sure what I want, or should it be more about what he wants because he's paying?

I clear my throat and look down at him. "And how long have you been coming here?" I ask.

It sounds petulant to my own ears like I'd possibly be jealous of this stranger being with other women—Omegas—before me. What is wrong with me? Maybe I'm not cut out for this. I never thought of myself as a possessive person, but then again, I'd never had a reason to be.

"My membership is new," he responds, to my relief.

"What do you do for work?" I ask, trying to keep the conversation going.

"I'm the vice president of an importing business," he answers.

"Oh, what do you import?"

"Expensive things," he replies with a smirk.

His answer is vague at best, but I suppose he owes me nothing.

He shifts me on his thigh like I weigh nothing, and I don't miss the undeniable press of his hard cock when he shifts me.

It makes me feel powerful and wanted, making me perfume again.

His hand leaves the poker table to slide up my bare thigh. His nails are manicured, and the veins on his hands are stark against his skin.

It's like I'm cocooned in his scent. Both his hands are wrapped around me as he leans in to speak to me.

"Would you like for me to take care of this ache, mo stór?"

I swallow, drowning in his scent, as I nod my head.

Wait, no.

Leisha always negotiated before she let one of the men touch her or she touched them.

My fingers wrap around his wrist, drawing his hand closer to my pussy, and I regret not wearing thicker underwear tonight because I'm more than likely leaving a mess on his very expensive pants.

"How badly would you like to touch?" I whisper, not even knowing if he's playing poker anymore or what anyone else around us is doing.

"Two thousand," he replies.

"To finger me?" I sputter back in shock.

"Five thousand," he retorts, and I swallow.

His eyes meet mine, and my scent goes mad. Five thousand fucking dollars for him to touch me, nothing else in return.

"Okay," I rasp out.

He goes to slide his hand up my skirt, and I finally take in my surroundings. Sure, people do things publically in the club, and I've gotten semi-used to it, but I don't know if I'm ready for that just yet.

His fingers tap the side of my ass twice, indicating for me to get up, and when I do, sure enough, there's a small circle of slick staining his pants.

He doesn't even bother looking at the mess I made, or worry about collecting his chips, or about grabbing his cocktail. He takes my hand, dragging me towards the hallway that stems from the entrance. It's dark and empty, and I don't let my nerves get the best of me as he presses me up against the wall, one hand at the side of my throat.

Ian doesn't kiss me, to my chagrin, but instead slides his hand from my hip and up under my dress. His long fingers swipe at the soaked material of my panties.

"So wet. Tell me, Elena, is it me who has you dripping down your thighs, or would any Alpha here have you making this much of a delicious mess?"

My breath stills, and I tell him what he wants to hear, the truth. "You," I gasp out.

His fingers dip under the hem of my panties, sliding through my wetness and rubbing against my clit.

"What would it take for you not to touch anyone else here besides me?" he asks. Two of his fingers slide inside of me as his thumb rubs my clit, making my legs shake and my brain shortcircuit.

His eyes are possessive, and his angular face is hard as he looks down at me. He's handsome, and he knows it.

"Hmm, mo stór? What would it take to keep this precious tight pussy on retainer?"

The words are so wrong but so fucking right at the same time.

"I-I-I don't k-no-now," I stutter. I just want to come. I just want his thumb to work a little faster and his fingers to curl inside of me just a little deeper. "I'm so close."

"Maybe I'll slowly fuck you with my hand all night until you agree," he groans into my ear.

I won't survive that torture.

Fuck this man for making me do math when he's torturing me this much. He was willing to pay me five thousand just for this.

"Twenty-five?" I moan out as his pace increases.

"Fifty thousand, and you touch no one else. You don't sit on anyone else's lap, you don't let them touch this pussy. Only me."

It's wrong, I know it's vain, but I like that he has money. I like that he can toss around that amount on one simple thing—me.

"For how long?" I somehow manage to ask.

"Beautiful and smart. I'm so lucky," he hums, his pace increasing, and I'm nearly there. "Two weeks," he finally answers.

My mouth parts in surprise, which makes him smile until I compose myself. I'm supposed to be a bad bitch. I nod my head, and he grins, fucking me with his hand.

Two weeks of only touching him seems more than worth fifty thousand dollars. If I really wanted to, I could use that and go wherever the fuck I want. But could I really do it, could I leave Vegas—the only place I've called home all my life. Could I walk away from how fucking good I feel right now? It's never felt like this for me, and he's just using his hand.

"Good girl, now show me what a five thousand dollar orgasm looks like."

I break apart, and he holds me firmly against the wall as he finger fucks me, not letting up for a single second. I know I'm contracting around his fingers as my thighs shake and the back of my head hits the wall. I'm moaning loudly, not a single care in the world about who hears or sees us. It feels so good, so fucking right.

The suction of my pussy around his hand is obscene, and I love it. I find myself wanting to mark him up with my scent more than I want the five thousand dollars. What the fuck is wrong with me?

He glides his hands along my inner thighs before bringing them up to inspect my sticky release coating his fingers.

"Open," he commands, and I do. Immediately, he presses his fingers into my mouth, letting me taste myself.

His eyes dart between my lips and my eyes as he watches me suck his fingers clean.

"I'll transfer the money into your account. No touching, no exceptions."

I nod my head, and his thumb and pinky squeeze my jaw while the rest of his fingers are still in my mouth.

"Do not disobey me, Elena. Do you understand?"

I nod again, his fingers slowly sliding from between my lips. He's bossy, and I find myself liking it more than I should. I was supposed to be on a mission of self-discovery and becoming a bad bitch, yet all I found out is he can make me come in under three minutes, and I hopelessly want him to do it again.

"Where are you staying?" he asks.

"Apartments," I'm somehow able to rasp out, pointing down the hall.

"Go back to your apartment and get cleaned up. I'll come back as soon as I can," he directs me, and I blink wildly at him.

What the fuck just happened?

He goes to reach into his inner pocket but stops himself. He grabs my hand, leading me towards the stairwell with the onsite apartments and gets Roger's attention.

I'm honestly in a state of confusion as I stand there with my legs crossed. Ian takes a hundred-dollar bill out of his wallet and writes on it.

"This is my number. If you need anything, you tell me immediately, you understand?" he asks.

His tone is no bullshit and firm, and I like it. Gah, what happened to my fantasies of being some badass dominant Omega? All I can think about is Ian telling me what to do and how much I would like it.

"Elena?" he repeats my name, his hand back to grasping my chin. I don't answer, and he wraps me in his arms, giving me a tight hug.

I try not to cry.

I haven't been hugged in so long. His scent wraps around me, and for the first time in a long time I feel safe, how is that possible? How can this stranger and his scent make me feel so comforted?

Sure, he just made me fall apart in the hallway of a high-end brothel, but this somehow means more.

"Promise you'll call if you need anything." His voice is softer this time, still demanding but somehow also reassuring.

I nod against his chest, and he kisses the top of my hair.

"Straight to your room to get cleaned up," he instructs sternly.

I finally find my voice. "When will you be back?"

"As soon as I can," he replies with a smirk before Roger opens the door for him, and he leaves the club.

I don't think I could have imagined a more interesting first night on the job. How the fuck am I supposed to not let anyone touch me until he comes back?