CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 2

Cynthia

As usual, Norman is late.

The lawyers and I are waiting in the lobby for him as he strolls in, an hour late. He blinks when he sees us. "Why’re you nitwits standing here? What, did Dad kick you out?"

He bursts into laughter at his own joke, and I grimace at the grating sound.

Even as a child, Norman was not the most attractive one of the lot. Where his personality and attitude could have made a vast difference, the ugliness inside him is always on the surface.

"We have the acquisition talks with Maril Food Inc. today." One of the lawyers steps forward, barely hiding his annoyance. "We were supposed to be there twenty minutes ago. We’ve been waiting for you for over an hour."

Instead of looking mortified for delaying what is supposed to be such an urgent matter for the company or even pretending to be embarrassed, Norman just sneers, "So what? It’s just Adam. He should be grateful that we’re even interested in his pathetic little company. Just you watch. I can bet you he’ll be waiting for us, desperate for us to buy him out and save him."

I look down at the floor, pressing my lips together to keep from laughing. Norman doesn’t have an ounce of business sense in him. The only thing he’s good for is spending his father’s money on women and alcohol. I’ve never met a more deluded fool.

"Either way," the lawyer, Tom Anvil, says sharply, "we need to be there, or we risk losing the acquisition. Maril Food is right now one of the top groups there is. We cannot afford to miss the acquisition talks. Do you know what will happen if another company bids––"

Norman got in Tom’s face, suddenly snarling, "Didn’t you hear what I said? Adam needs us! Nobody’s going to want to acquire his pathetic little business."

I can see that Tom wants to say something, but he’s one of the last few staff members Norman has not yet managed to drive away, and I can’t let him fire someone like Tom. I immediately step forward, my voice hard. "Fine, I’ll call Jonathon and tell him you feel the acquisition is not worth it."

I’m already taking out my phone when Norman grabs my wrist, squeezing it painfully hard. "What the hell do you think you’re doing?"

I meet his gaze, refusing to flinch from the pain. "Exactly what you said. You don’t think the acquisition is worth your time and effort, so why should we be paying all these lawyers per hour to simply wait around for an acquisition you don’t even think is worth it?"

He tightens his grip and I stare back at him, impassively. "I’ll also let him know that I’ll be taking a couple of days off work since you seem to be intent on breaking my wrist. You can explain to him why he doesn’t have his PA around."

Norman’s face contorts and I smile pleasantly. "Want to let go now or should I call your father?"

His eyes move around and he drops my hand, disgust on his face. His voice is low. "I’ll deal with you later."

I scoff.

"Let’s go," Norman growls, and before we can get into the cars that are waiting for us, he grabs my wrist again. "You’re with me."

I snatch my hand back, lifting a brow. "I have to discuss the acquisition details with Tom. You’re welcome to join us. Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two."

Norman’s got perhaps two brain cells that he can rub together at a time, but even he knows what will happen to him if he acts like a brute towards me in public. The pack seems to be under the impression that I’m an important member of the Moore family. Questions will be raised, and Jonathon may not be able to answer them without implicating his own family.

He just shoots me a nasty look and drops my wrist.

As Tom follows me to the black car waiting for us, he asks, "Are you okay?"

I rub my wrist absentmindedly. "Nothing I can’t handle. Let’s discuss the acquisition details in the car. How much are we willing to offer?"

The entire ride, Tom is sharing the details as I keep fine-tuning them.

However, when we reach the company headquarters, I look up at the glass building and stare in awe. There is no doubt in my mind about how successful Adam Moore is. But clearly, he likes to flaunt his wealth, as well.

I have few memories of Adam, and since there are no pictures of him in the family home anymore, I don’t remember his face. It’s not surprising because, until my teens, I was severely traumatized. We barely crossed paths. The only memory I have of him is one that makes me tremble in anger. That was the first day I understood what hate truly was.

I stare up at the building.

I’m not looking forward to seeing Adam again. I doubt he remembers me, though, or cares.

Norman chooses to barge into the lobby, demanding loudly, "Where is Adam?"

I close my eyes briefly, horrified.

This man is going to cost me my freedom!

"Hi." I approach the receptionist. "We’re here from KDL Foods. We have a meeting with Mr. Moore."

The receptionist nods. "Please wait."

As she picks up the receiver to check, Norman scowls. "Just tell Adam we’re here. I don’t like waiting."

"I’m sorry, sir," the receptionist says politely, "but I can’t let you through until I have confirmation from above."

"Listen, you little bitch––" Norman begins and my eyes widen in horror.

"Norman!" I hiss. "Watch it!"

He shoves me back, and I go tumbling into Tom, who catches me before I can fall onto the ground.

Uncaring, Norman sneers, "This company’s going to be mine, anyway! Let me in, or you’ll be the first to lose your job!"

There is an unfriendly look in the woman’s eyes now, and she says, tightly, "Do I need to call security?"

"No, you don’t." I try to salvage the situation. "Please let Mr. Moore know we are here for the acquisition talks. This is his brother, Norman Moore."

The woman gives me an equally disgusted look and makes the call.

"There’s a Norman Moore here to see you, with his team. He claims to be Mr. Moore’s brother and says he’s here for acquisition talks."

After a moment, she nods. "I see. Okay. I’ll let them know."

She puts down the receiver, looks at Norman with great relish, and says, "Mr. Moore is busy today. He won’t be seeing you. Please make another appointment and try to be on time."

Norman’s face turns red and when he opens his mouth, I grab him by the arm. "Let’s go."

"Let go of me!" He shakes me off, tossing me onto the ground. This time, I’m caught by someone else. As Norman storms off, I look up to see a man with a terrible scar on the left side of his face.

"Are you okay?" His voice is kind, and I blink.

"Um, yeah. Sorry about that."

Steadying myself, I look at Tom. "Let’s go."

However, before I leave, I find myself looking over my shoulder at the man watching me.

I’ve never seen him around before.

Turning my head, I focus on the current problem on hand, whose name is Norman.

Catching up to him, I grab his shoulder, swinging him around to face me, "Have you lost your mind? Do you think anyone will want us to acquire their company if you behave like that? This isn’t a game, Norman! If you want to become Alpha, then you’d better start acting like it instead of like a spoiled brat!"

I never speak like this to Norman. I don’t have a death wish. But if he doesn’t get this merger, I don’t get my freedom.

"You’d better watch your mouth," he snarls, getting in my face.

I don’t back down. “If you had been on time today, we would have managed to make some headway. You showed up late, and on top of that, you acted that way in his company’s lobby. You think he’s going to want to go ahead with the acquisition now or even hear us out?"

His hand lifts, and before I can so much as blink, it comes crashing down on my left cheek.

"Norman!" Panicked gasps from the lawyers have me gritting my teeth. The pain doesn’t bother me, but I know Jonathon will blame me for his outburst, and he’s already pissed at me from this morning.

I can only imagine what he’ll do to me.

I watch Norman get in his car and drive off, furious.

I close my eyes, resisting the urge to throw up.

Me and my damn big mouth!

"I’m okay." I lift a hand when the rest of the team runs up to me. "Not a word to the CEO."

"But he slapped you!" Tom growls. "Even if he’s the Managing Director––"

"Not a word, Tom," I reiterate, wearily. "Trust me. It’ll be worse if he finds out."

I let out a shaky breath before steadying myself. "You guys should go. I’ll talk to Jonathon."

"There’s no way we’re going to get past the door," Tom mutters, shooting me a worried look. "Not after the stunt Norman just pulled. Why is the Alpha not seeing any of this?"

"Tom––" There’s a warning edge to my voice, but he doesn’t seem to care right now.

"You know I’m right, Cynthia," Tom spits out. "From the moment Norman came on board, everything has been screwed up. The whole company is going under and Jonathon has been blaming you."

"Tom!" My voice is sharp as whiplash as I glance at Tony, who is still in the driver’s seat, listening in.

Tony is the one who drives me anywhere I have to go. It’s another power move by Jonathon to keep me in check. He’s already witnessed what happened, and there is no doubt in my mind that he’s going to spill the beans to Jonathon, who’s going to take it out on my already burning back.

Hollow exhaustion fills me.

Sometimes I just want to sink onto the ground and scream. I want to scream and scream until my throat is raw. My heart is a tattered thing, my soul refusing to give up, determined to fight back. But for what? This void is endless. No matter which way I turn, no matter where I go, pain and suffering are waiting for me at the end of the road. I already know what Jonathon is going to do to me, and the fear is choking me up. He has never once held Norman responsible for his actions. He’s always found another scapegoat. And for the last couple of years, that scapegoat has been me. With each worsening mistake that Norman makes, I have to bear ten lashes.

I open the car door, my body feeling heavy.

"Go home, Tom. Just go home."

Tom gives me a worried look. "I’ll talk to Jonathon. None of this was your fault."

"It doesn’t matter." I want to close my eyes and just sink into the abyss. "I’ll deal with it."

Tom presses his lips together and then shuts the car door for me. I meet Tony’s gaze in the rearview mirror.

"It didn’t go well?"

I give him a dry smile. "You don’t need to snitch to Jonathon. We’re heading to him now."

However, Jonathon must have already gotten wind of the situation because we are still stuck in traffic when he calls me, furious. "What the hell did you do, you useless girl?"

I bite my tongue. "Norman showed up late."

"You should have called him to remind him," Jonathon shouts at me over the phone.

I let out a shuddering breath, rubbing my temple. "I sent him an email and a message. He got aggressive with the receptionist. I’m trying to––"

"What’s the point of sending you when you can’t even control a situation?" he snarls, and it takes everything within me not to whimper at the fury in his voice, the fury which is going to come out on me soon enough.

"I tried, sir."

"Clearly not hard enough!"

"He physically attacked me,” I burst out. “In front of everyone! I still tried to stop him, but––"

"Don’t give me your bullshit excuses. He’s getting drunk in his usual bar. Go stay with him. Make sure he doesn’t get in any trouble. And I’ll deal with you later."

I open my mouth and then snap it shut. I’ve run it enough for one day.

"I understand."

He ends the call abruptly, and I stare down at my phone. After letting out a few uneven breaths, I look up. "Drop me at the Devine Bar."

Tony doesn’t ask questions, simply changing lines.

It takes me five minutes to reach there, and once I get out, I tap on Tony’s window. "You can go home. I’ll be with Norman."

Tony hesitates for the first time. "I can stay in case things get out of hand."

I stare at him before saying, slowly, "Do you really want to wait outside the whole night? You know how he gets when he’s angry. He’s not leaving that bar until the sun rises. Go home.”

Tony finally nods. “Alright. Call me when he’s ready to leave.”

I watch him drive away before I head into the bar. It’s less of a bar and more of an elite strip club.

"Hey, Rock." I nod at the bouncer by the door. "Where is he?"

I’m a familiar face here since I’m often tasked with picking Norman up when he’s drunk out of his mind. Rock gestures with his shoulder to the bar, and I glance over to see Norman sitting with two women pressed against him.

"Norman." I approach him and he turns his head. He’s had quite a few since he doesn’t look angry anymore. However, he doesn’t look too pleased to see me, either.

"I’m busy." He scowls, turning his attention back to the women by his side. I have to wonder how much they charge a night and whether human women are even allowed in shifter-run establishments. My lips purse in distaste. If Jonathon finds out his son has been sleeping around with human women, he’s going to lose his fricking mind. Unlike shifters, where female shifters can only get pregnant after receiving the mating mark, human females aren’t confined to the same rules.

"Jerry," I look at the bartender in concern, "please don’t tell me you have human female escorts in here. Since when––"

"Don’t worry about it." Jeremiah, another wolf shifter, and part owner of this bar chuckles. "We let in a selective few."

"Selective?" I frown.

He grins. "Infertile. They can’t bear offspring. Since the only option for female companions comes from the slums, Brad and I decided to try something different. We feed them and house them, and in return, they give us a fifty percent cut."

"So, basically, you’re johns now," I say, dryly.

He blinks. "Not at all. If you look at it––"

I lift my hand. "No thanks, I really don’t want to look at anything. I have to get Norman home."

"He just got here twenty minutes ago." Jerry gives me a sad look. "Why do you want to take away my best-paying customer? Have a heart."

I roll my eyes at him. "Alpha Moore wants him home."

That’s enough to make Jerry fall silent.

I turn my attention back to Norman. "Come on. Your father wants you to come home."

He turns to leer at me. "Fine, I’ll go. Provided we make an hour’s stop at a motel nearby."

His meaning isn’t lost on me, and I grow rigid. "The Alpha wants you home."

"Well, I’m not going. In fact," he leans toward one of the women who has red hair, "Leia and I plan to get very busy in a few minutes. Why don’t you join us? After all, once I’m Alpha, this is all you’ll be good for."

My hand curls into a fist as Jerry makes a surprised sound.

"Go on!" Norman raises his voice. "Take off that shirt my father paid for. Let’s see your melons."

A few people around him titter, and my face grows hot in humiliation.

"I think you should leave, Cynthia," Jerry murmurs quietly. "He’s had more than a few."

Norman gets to his feet, laughing now, and when both women wrap their arms around his waist.

"We’ll take the private room, Jerry. Keep the drinks coming!"

As he stumbles away, his wallet slips out of his pocket.

I watch him walk away, my blood boiling. After a moment, I pick it up, trailing after him.

There is no use in sticking around. I’ll ask Jerry to keep an eye on him and call Tony when he thinks Norman needs to be escorted out. I follow him to hand him the wallet, but I stop around the corner.

Opening Norman’s wallet, I count his money before pocketing more than half of it.

"Good luck, you slimy creep," I sneer. "Babysit your own ugly ass."

I knock on the door of the private room, and one of the women opens it.

She blinks. "Are you really joining us?" Before I can answer, an ugly expression forms on her face. "We’re not sharing our money with you if––"

"Hand Norman his wallet. He dropped it."

I see the greed flicker in her eyes and I tell her, "The private rooms have cameras that are used in case of theft, just so you know."

She scowls, proceeding to take the wallet before she slams the door in my face. I just roll my eyes and head back out toward the bar.

"Call Tony once he’s out of it. I’m heading home,” I say to Jerry.

As I walk out, the adrenaline fades and humiliation and pain sets in.

There is a park across the road, and I drag myself there, grateful that it is dark now. Sitting on one of the empty swings, I grab the steel chain and stare across the road at the bar. In the eyes of the Moore family, I am no more than a dog. In fact, dogs are treated better than I am. I put on a strong front, but inside, there is an emptiness, an agony that nothing can fix.

Jonathon thinks Norman has what it takes to become Alpha? Is he really this blind?

His son is useless.

He is the scum of the earth, and the pack is more than aware of it.

Sometimes I wonder if just ending myself would be a kindness. This is the first time I’ve sat in a park in years. I can’t even go to a bakery or anywhere without being monitored and controlled. Today is the first time I’ve had a few minutes to myself.

But soon enough, I’ll have to call Tony and––

My hand pauses on its way to my bag, and I blink.

Why do I have to call Tony?

He thinks I’m at the bar with Norman.

My eyes narrow, and I pat my pocket, which has at least a couple of hundred dollars. There’s a lot that can be done with a hundred dollars.

I get to my feet.

The night is still young, and for the first time in years, there is no one watching over my shoulder.

My smile broadens.

*** **

My silver hair is easily recognizable, so if I want to enjoy myself, I need to first disguise myself.

The woman staring back at me in the salon chair is unrecognizable. Her hair is midnight black, and her icy blue eyes are filled with childish excitement.

“Now, don’t you look fine, honey?” The woman fixing up the wig sighs. “Although, your natural silver is so rare and gorgeous. I don’t know why you would want to hide it.”

“I just want something different.” I smile.

She’s put the wig hair in a beautiful knot and, pairing that with the small black dress that I bought at the thrift store not twenty minutes ago, I don’t look like Cynthia Rose in the least. I doubt even Jonathon would recognize me if he saw me right now.

Pleased, my heart stops, trembling with anxiety. I’m taking a risky step going out on my own, but this might be my only chance to experience some freedom. I don’t even know what I want to do. I just wanted to look pretty for once.

Leaving the human-owned salon, I walk to the closest train station and get a locker, stuffing my belongings inside. With my wallet and phone with me, I take the train, getting off a few stops later only to find myself in a brightly lit street. Bars and clubs litter the street, crowds of young humans moving about, some drunks, some heading off to get tipsy. I don’t smell any of my own kind here, and my body relaxes. Besides, with the human stench, my own scent is bound to get drowned out.

I decide to follow a large group into a bar that looks like it’ll be a little fun if the music coming from it is any indication.

Most of the shifter-owned establishments are quiet places, if you don’t count the clubs that have been popping up all over Seattle. The clubs are mostly underground and are strictly controlled because of how wild young shifters can get when they’re drunk. Human alcohol doesn’t give us anything more than a buzz, and only selective brands can accomplish that much. I kind of want a buzz to get rid of the tension coiling in my stomach, so I order a glass of scotch, making sure to ask about the brand of the bottle first.

The bartender gives me an odd look but shows me the bottle before pouring me a glass.

"I’d also like the fries." I study the menu. I didn’t know you could order food in bars. Shifter bars don’t have food on the menu.

"Sure." The man nods and puts in the order.

Sipping my drink, I turn around on the stool and look around. The place is not as dimly lit as I expected, and at the back of the room, I can see a few people dancing along with the music. I watch them, finding myself relax as the minutes go by and no one comes barging through the door screaming at me.

By the time my order arrives, I ask for another glass of scotch and dig into my food. I have to ration my food at home because I usually get a specific amount of groceries delivered to me. It’s rare for Jonathon to let me get groceries by myself. I’m allowed to eat at his house, though that’s something I avoid. Therefore, making fries at home is a waste of oil and potatoes.

I bite into the crispy fry and close my eyes in pure happiness.

Nothing beats fast food!

There’s the sound of a glass clinking on the counter, and then a deep gravelly voice from beside me, a hint of amusement in it, says, "I’ve never seen someone enjoy fries like that."

My eyes pop open, and I see a man standing beside the stool next to me. His gray eyes are piercing, in a well-formed face that the Gods clearly took their sweet time with. He’s got a head full of black wavy hair and he’s wearing a suit. His jacket is missing, only the vest remaining, and my eyes are drawn to how his body fills the suit, stretching in all the right places, his defined forearm muscles more than obvious with his sleeves rolled up.

He looks to be human, but with all the human scents in this room, it’s hard to figure out if he’s one of them. But I don’t remember seeing someone like him at pack events. A majority of the pack gets together for bonding events, so I would have seen him.

I guess I must have been gaping at him for far too long because his lips quirk. "Mind if I sit here?"

"S-Sure." I nearly choke on the fry in my mouth and then quickly swallow it, coughing. "Sorry."

"So, what’s your name?"

He’s so ridiculously handsome that my heart is pounding. The fact that someone like him would show an ounce of interest in someone insignificant like me has me shaken inside. However, I remember my disguise, and a pang of sadness overtakes me. I had to look like somebody else to get male attention of any sort, but I’m determined to make a night of this yet.

I just smile at him. "I would rather not say."

He blinks, not at all deterred. "And why not?"

I shrug. "You’re never going to see me again, so why bother with names?"

"You seem very sure of that fact." He looks even more intrigued. "Would you like to know my name?"

I shake my head, and his smile broadens. "This is all so mysterious."

"You’re welcome to leave." I bite into another fry, watching him. "I don’t mind."

He leans back, his elbow on the counter, his chin resting on his hand. "I don’t think you would mind. Which just makes me more curious about you?"

"Curious about what?" I shrug. "I’m literally just sitting here, eating fries and drinking scotch."

"Exactly." The handsome stranger grins. "Why is a beautiful lady like you sitting by herself in a bar all by yourself?"

I stare at him, wondering if this is his way of flirting with me. I’ve never had anyone show the slightest amount of interest in me, so this is new to me.

Faced with my silence, the man raises his brow. "How about this? It’s going to be strange talking without knowing each other’s names, so why don’t we come up with fake ones?"

"Fake names?" The idea makes me grin. "I always wanted to be an Anna."

Fake names, being flirted with by a hot stranger in a small bar, and enjoying a nice meal. A wave of excitement rushes through me. "What would you like to be called?"

He’s smiling for some reason, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Why don’t you pick?"

My food all but forgotten, I beam at him. "How about Adrian?"

He blinks. "That was very quick."

I grin. "I saw the name in a magazine once. I really liked it."

"All right, Anna." Adrian leans forward. "So, what do you do in real life?"

"Grunt work." I shrug. "I work for a corporation."

"You don’t sound very happy about that." He clicks his tongue. "What would Anna be doing?"

I blink slowly, looking down at my plate of food. Anna?

"She’d be a florist," I suddenly say. "I love flowers, and I can make really good arrangements. I can name nearly every flower in this city, even their actual names."

I’m rather proud of this fact.

"Oh, really?" Adrian looks interested. "What else do you like to do in your free time?"

I have to remember that he’s asking Anna, not Cynthia.

"I like reading novels," I murmur. "Adventurous ones, or slow romances."

"When was the last time you read a book?"

My smile fades at the memory his question invokes, and my hands curl into fists, an instinctive attempt to hide my knuckles.

You’re a thief!

Don’t you ever touch my books again, you little tramp!

"Anna?"

My lips tremble as I try to speak, and when I do, my voice is a little raspy. "I was eleven when… The last book I read was when I was eleven. I never got to finish it, though."

Adrian’s eyes are on mine. "Why not?"

It’s hard to answer these questions, knowing that an ordinary person wouldn’t have trouble answering such.

"The person it belonged to took it back."

"What was the book about?"

"It was…" I blink. "It was about a girl who was raised by her aunts, and she fell in love with an archaeologist who was also the son of the man her aunt cleaned for. I never knew how it ended."

There’s a familiar tightening in my chest, and I force my lips to curve. "What about you?"

We share the plate of fries as the conversation flows. It’s easy to talk to him, and my wolf rumbles happily, bathing in this attention. He must be human because he doesn’t take more than one drink, probably because he doesn’t want to get drunk.

I try not to share too much about myself. Cynthia is little more than a slave. Anna is a free woman. While Cynthia is boring and dull with no personality, Anna is alluring and charming, and she smiles all the time.

However, everything has to come to an end. As the evening grows longer, I realize it’s nearing midnight and I should get going. I still have work tomorrow.

Adrian has not touched me once, and although I can feel the heat between us, I also know that it could just be my imagination, part of the fantasy in my head. I really shouldn’t be greedy, though.

"I have to get going." I pick up my wallet to pay for my drinks when Adrian lifts a hand.

"I’ve got it."

Before I can say anything, he’s handing a card to the bartender who just seems to understand.

"Are you heading home?"

Adrian gets to his feet as well.

"Yeah," I nod. After a pit stop at the locker room in the train station to get my stuff.

He follows me outside. "Tired of my company already?"

I let out a small laugh. "Never. But we have to end our meeting just like it started: on an edge of mystery."

He takes a step toward me, and I find myself catching my breath. So far, he’s kept a polite distance from me, so to have him approach me like this, a hunger in those sharp gray eyes, it does things to my heart.

"Y’know," his voice is huskier now, "I’ve had a very hard time keeping my hands to myself all night."

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I don’t know how to respond. Anna would know, but he’s looking at Cynthia now, and Cynthia has never had a man speak to her like this or look at her this way.

Adrian doesn’t give me a chance to speak. "I never thought I would run into such a charming woman tonight, and the night’s still young. Will you still not give me your name?"

I shake my head mutely, my heart beating so loudly that I’m afraid he might be able to hear it.

"I can’t," I finally manage.

"You can’t," he echoes thoughtfully, his eyes darkening.

My wolf feels strange. My body is tingling all over, my nipples tightening.

Is this desire?

"Alright." He takes another step toward me until our faces are mere inches apart. His hand comes to cup my cheek as he lowers his mouth to mine. "Then would Anna like to go somewhere with me?"

"W-Where?" I can’t help but stammer. His lips are nearly touching mine!

"Somewhere we can be alone." Adrian’s mouth swoops down on mine in a kiss that makes my toes curl. "Somewhere where I can take off your clothes, one by one, and ravish you until you forget everything but my name?"

Say no. Say no!

The voice in my head is clear. I can’t do this! I’ll get caught! I’ll––

The second kiss makes me want to rub my legs together.

"I’ve never… I don’t…"

How am I supposed to tell him that I’m a virgin? That I just had my first kiss and it was with him!

However, he seems to realize what I’m saying because his eyes widen in understanding and shock. The heat in his eyes is replaced by a maddening hunger. "You’ve never been touched before?"

His voice is low, a soft velvety caress that makes me want to whimper.

I shake my head.

A wicked smile forms on his lips. "Then, I’ll teach you."

My ’no’ just flies out of the window, just like that.