6. Elena

It'sday two of no Ian, and honestly it's a lot easier than I thought to keep my hands to myself and other's hands off me. The girls were right, mostly all the members here are very respectful and understand our wishes. Though a part of me feels like I'm doing a bad job by following Ian's orders.

But then I remember my bank account and stop feeling guilty. I'm being paid for my time and, well, if Ian doesn't show, then I guess I just made a ton of money while not having to do anything.

So then, why do I want him to strut through that door and ask me to go to a private room?

The first guy I let touch me at this club, and I'm completely fucked over him. It's honestly embarrassing. Maybe I'm not cut out for this job, the man didn't even kiss me. Yet, here I am pining, hoping that he walks through the doors and starts paying me to touch him, when we both know I'd damn well do it for free.

The idea of leaving Vegas has gotten harder over the last few days as I get more and more comfortable behind these walls. So does my homesickness. I miss my bedroom, the hustle and bustle of the house, the home-cooked meals. Yet, I also love the freedom of being here and figuring out who I am. It's confusing, and I feel like I have more questions than answers when it comes to my future.

What is it that I want?I think to myself as my finger circles around the edge of the martini glass.

Do I want to be like Leisha?

As much as I look up to her and respect her, I don't want to be like her. I'm too fucking needy, and… well, I'm a hopeless romantic.

I was ten when my mama died, but she loved my pàpa, there was no denying it. It's nearly unheard of for an Omega to be with just one Alpha, but she was. They were each other's world, and I want that so fucking bad. She was a cocktail server at the bar he liked to go to. She'd worked there all of two weeks until he made her his. I'm sure their story is romanticized, and it was a lot more caveman-esq than I'd like to admit. But I know my pàpa was faithful to her all the years they were together. He treated her like a queen.

Though, I've been to enough functions to know that isn't the norm in our world. Even though he loved my mother, he still belonged to her in a way that most Alpha and Omega couplings would find extreme. Sometimes, I wonder if his love for her is what got her killed. She was his greatest weakness, and a rival family took advantage of that. That family line ceased to exist, and maybe it's because I grew up around violence, but it's kind of poetic in a way. Part of me knows deep down that my father's love for my mother is why he treated me the way he did and why he never pushed me into anything. I suppose when she passed, I was the last thing that truly reminded him of her, we look so much alike.

Maybe I made a mistake in running away, maybe the men Anthony was so ready to hand me off to aren't so bad.

I shake the thought from my head. We'd be from rival families. There would always be resentment. I could never love them, just as they could never love me. I swipe at the pathetic tear that falls from my eye, hating how lonely I feel in a crowded room. Is it so bad that I just want someone to choose me for me? Not because of my name or my designation, but because of who I am?

I shake my head, feeling stupid and na?ve as the alluring scent of rosemary and spearmint fills my nose. It soothes some of the self-deprecating feelings I was having, and a smile takes over my face. I leave the martini glass on the table and find him facing the opposite direction, looking at one of the Omegas dancing on stage.

Well, that fucking hurts.

I shake away the feeling and touch the center of his large back with my hand. His suit tonight is black and feels like butter under my palm.

Scenting him feels like a warm caress, like nothing can go wrong as long as he's with me. I'm not sure what this connection is with our scents. It can't be. No, there's no fucking way I'd meet my scent match at a sex club.

"There you are," I coo softly.

The man that turns around is nearly identical to Ian. Except his hair is a little shorter, he has tattoos on his knuckles, and there is a very significant deep facial scar that starts from his ear, spanning across his sharp cheekbone and over his bottom lip.

He's holding a tumbler of some sort of alcohol in his hand, and I find myself fascinated with the tattoos on his fingers. There's a cross on his middle finger, a squiggle I can't discern on his pointer, and a knife on his ring finger.

Deep forest green eyes that match Ian's meet mine.

"Wrong twin," he states, his voice nearly identical to the man who paid me fifty thousand dollars to touch no one but him.

While they might be twins, they seem slightly different in the way they carry themselves. Ian has a much more light-hearted nature about him while still exuding dominant energy. The twin in front of me? I almost feel like I should be running for the hills. The only energy rolling off of him is danger.

"I take it you're Elena," he asks. He almost seems bored, but his nostrils flare, taking in my scent.

"I am."

He appraises me, and a pang of self-consciousness rolls through me. I wrap a hand around my waist and shift on my heels, not knowing what to say. Do I ask when the nice twin will be gracing us with his presence?

I clear my throat and find my spine. "And you are?" I ask with an arch of my brow, shifting my hand to my hip.

It's quick, but the side of his face with the scar twitches.

"Finn."

I feel on guard with this Alpha, everything inside of me feels torn. I should be a good Italian girl and treat him with manners, but I also want him to know he's being a total dick. He's just as handsome, and his scent is just as alluring as Ian's, which makes me want to climb him like a tree, but his personality makes me want to back away slowly.

"I didn't know Ian had a twin," I sass, going with an easy medium.

"I suppose you wouldn't. He was probably too busy paying an unwarranted amount of money to simply touch your cunt."

My jaw drops, and I blink up at this incredibly rude man. How did he and Ian share a womb? This is the first time I've been disrespected since I started working at the High Roller, and I'm really not sure what to do.

"It certainly doesn't look worth—" He pauses and looks me up and down. "What was it? Fifty-five thousand dollars? But perhaps there's something I'm missing."

For the most part, I'm a good, docile Omega. But this stronzo just hit a fucking nerve, making my temper flare.

"If you can't afford quality, I suggest you ask your brother for a considerable donation or try your luck down on Fremont. Certainly, you have enough money for them to look past your charming personality."

He murmurs something I can't discern and licks that tempting little scar on his bottom lip. No gross, it's not tempting. I look at him with indifference as he stares down at me. His height is overwhelming, but I don't back down.

"I see you aren't quite domesticated."

Oh, this motherfucker.

I'm considering bringing my hand back and slapping him across the face when a warm hand wraps around my wrist. I already know it's Ian because the culmination of their scents together is nearly too much to handle.

Truly, this is beyond fucked up. I'd never really considered that twin Alphas might have the same scent or that it could overwhelm me this much.

"I see you've met my brother," Ian sighs. His exhausted tone lets me know he's aware of his lack of manners.

Finn tugs on his expensive dress pants and sits on the black leather chair, holding out a hand.

"Please, don't let me interrupt." He looks smug, and I hate feeling on the outside of whatever this issue between them is.

"Do you need another drink?" Ian asks, and I shake my head.

He sits down and tugs me onto his lap, his warm hands rubbing down my back as his nose rubs along the side of my face before he whispers in my ear.

"Sorry about my brother, mo stór. Ignore him, that's what I do."

Easier said than done, when a six foot-five man with piercing green eyes won't stop staring at you, not to mention the way you're sitting on his twin brother's lap.

"Is he mad about the money you spent?" I ask, looking up at Ian.

He shakes his head and smiles. How can his demeanor be the complete opposite of Finn's? There must be some major nature vs. nurture shit going on with these two.

"Money is not an issue."

"Then what's his problem?"

"I'm sitting right here," Finn says in a bored tone.

"Well aware," I grumble under my breath, and Ian's smile widens even further. It makes me wonder if people don't often stand up to his brother. I'd imagine they don't, with the tattoos, the scar, and the serious glare he has on his face right now.

Finn's finger is tapping impatiently against the side of his glass, and I realize he's focusing more on his brother than he is on me.

I decide to blatantly ignore the Alpha and turn my body on Ian's lap so that he has my full attention. I tug on the lapels of his suit jacket before straightening them out.

"I didn't know when you'd be back."

"Have you been good?" he asks.

"Very," I reply, wiggling in his lap.

His lips graze the shell of my ear again, no doubt so his brother can't overhear our conversation.

"Tell me, did anyone try to touch what belongs to me?"

That has me shivering. My disgraceful Omega nature wants to embrace his sense of ownership, while my newfound feminism wants to tell him to fuck off.

Omega nature always wins.

"Yes," I whisper. I was approached multiple times, but politely declined. I kinda like this whole jealous-irritated thing he's doing right now.

"Do you know their names?"

"No, and I didn't do anything."

"I knew you wouldn't," he gloats confidently.

He may as well have told me I'm perfect with those words, and I shift on his lap once more. I'm trying to enjoy myself despite his brother's piercing gaze against my back.

"Is he going to go somewhere else?" I ask, and Ian laughs, shaking his head.

"I'm stuck with him, I'm afraid."

"Since birth? That had to have been rough," I tease, and Ian laughs again.

His eyes track behind me as Finn gets up from his seat before leaning down to get into our faces, his hands gripping the side of the chair we're sitting in as he takes another inhale of my scent. I swallow thickly as I look at the agitated expression written on his face.

He looks at Ian, not me.

"I'll do this one thing for you, brother. Don't fuck it up."

He stands to his full height, looking down his nose at me before heading towards the exit.

"What was that about?" I ask Ian as soon as his twin leaves The High Roller.

"Just him being a grumpy bastard, ignore him."

I play with his tie, sliding my fingers under it and flipping the back to find the Dior logo. It seemed like more than his brother being difficult, but I don't feel like I have the right to ask.

I should return Ian's money and tell him this isn't going to work out. I thought I was an expert at hooking up with no feelings, but I realize now that my vagina and heart are conspiring against me when it comes to this tall Alpha with the addictive scent. If I end it now, I won't get hurt; this little crush will get squashed before it really ever started.

He wraps his hand around mine, the one that's still holding his tie, and he kisses me. His lips are softer than I'd imagined they'd be, but he isn't gentle; the kiss is searing. Ian's tongue enters my mouth, making me moan, returning the favor. The tip of my tongue touches one of his canines, and I nearly shiver.

He breaks the kiss, the left side of his mouth tilted up. "A deal's a deal, mo stór," he states.

I don't know how he already knows me so well, but something I don't do is go back on my word. I just nod and crash my lips back to his.