For a moment, I was sure he was going to kiss me.
His head came closer and my body trembled. The heat between us had turned molten. His head dipped closer, and my whole body trembled. The heat between us had turned molten. I could feel his bulge through his pants, could see the hunger in his eyes, and smell the desire thick in the air. I knew he could smell me too.
But then—
He stepped back. His hands fell away from my body, and I blinked in confusion at the sudden loss of heat. I staggered back trying to hold my balance. My chest rose and fell rapidly as I struggled to regain composure. Was he going to get a condom?
No. To my surprise, Gareth bent down, picked up my trench coat from the floor, and gently draped it over my shoulders. The gesture was careful. Too careful. His hands lingered, very briefly over my waist as he fastened the coat for me.
"Keep it on," he said, voice low but firm.
My stomach dropped. Was my body so repulsive to him that he couldn't bear to look at it for a moment longer? "What…?" My voice was thin. "You don't… want me?"
He sighed, stepping back again. The distance between us now felt like a canyon. "Wanting you isn't the problem, Jasmine."
I dug my fingers into the fabric of my trench coat, my face burning with humiliation. I couldn't meet his eyes. Shame crawled over my skin like fire. I felt naked. Stupid. Desperate.
"Then what's the problem? I'm offering you what you want," I whispered, trying to hold onto some thread of dignity. I couldn't walk out with nothing to show for it.
"I came here willingly. Why are you hesitating? Is it because you don't want us to do it in the office?" I asked, "I can wait for you at a hotel-" "
His jaw clenched. "That's not what I meant."
"Then what do you want from me?" I cried out, desperate.
"I want you to stop thinking you have to give yourself away to be heard." His voice was calm, but sharp. Like a blade cloaked in velvet. "You're young, Jasmine. You have your whole life ahead of you. Don't trade yourself for favors. Not for me, not for anyone. I'm disappointed and I thought you knew better."
It wasn't just rejection. He stood there like some father figure lecturing a girl who didn't know better. I flinched, pulling the coat tighter around myself as though it could shield me from his words.
"You don't understand," I whispered. "My dad is locked up. My mom is falling apart. I don't have time to be young."
His expression softened, but only a little. "There are other ways to help your father, Jasmine."
"No, there aren't!" I snapped. "I've tried everything. This is my last chance. Please, don't turn me away."
"I'm not going to take advantage of you," he said firmly. "Even if you ask me to."
I stared at him, eyes stinging. I had taken off my clothes for him. Offered myself. Told him I was a virgin. And he—
He made me feel like some foolish girl playing the whore.
"I thought you were different," I muttered.
"I am," he said. "I have daughters, Jasmine. I wouldn't want anyone using them when they're desperate. And I won't do that to you."
It should've made me feel safe. But it just made me feel small. Ashamed.
"There are other ways," he repeated, voice lower now. "You're smart. Strong. You don't need to sell yourself to get what you want."
Then he walked to the door and opened it silently, wordlessly sending me away.
I'd never felt smaller. Never felt more foolish. I was humiliated. I stepped out without a word, the weight of the coat around my shoulders heavy with shame. I didn't look back.
The moment the door shut behind her, Gareth stood in silence for a long beat, jaw tight. He sighed deeply as he fought for control. It took all he had to send her away. Finally he reached for the intercom on his desk.
"Lucas," he said, voice low and clipped. "I want you and Leon to quietly dig into the charges against Lowett. Use Council access. I want names, records, anything that doesn't add up."
"Yes, sir," came the swift reply.
Gareth leaned back against his desk, running a hand down his face. The scent of her lingered in the air, sweet, desperate, sad. He didn't like how much it affected him. He was old enough to be her father, for crying out loud. He's never gone for girls that young.
But something about that girl…
It was already too late to pretend she hadn't gotten under his skin.
***
"I can't believe you actually went to his office," Mindie said, her eyes wide as she tossed a skimpy black dress at me. "But listen—since that didn't work, I know another way to make good money."
"Mindie…" I caught the dress, already regretting asking for help.
"It's just waitressing. At a high-end club," she said, holding up both hands. "Rich clientele, big tips. You keep your head down, do your job, and we'll be rolling in cash before the end of the week."
The dress felt like a scrap of fabric in my hands.
I raised an eyebrow. "This isn't a uniform. This is lingerie."
She grinned. "Welcome to Club Lunaris."
***
The club pulsed with deep bass and soft lighting, everything sleek and expensive. The kind of place powerful men went to drink and forget consequences.
The boss, a tall, broad-shouldered man with slicked-back hair and eyes like steel, gave me a hard look.
"You mess up, you're out," he said, voice flat. "You start fights, disrespect customers, or draw trouble to my door—I'll fire both of you. No second chances."
"We understand," Mindie said quickly, nudging me to nod.
"I get it," I mumbled.
He eyed me a second longer, then waved us off.
My heels clicked across the hard floor as I walked into the lounge, the dress hugging my body in ways that made my skin crawl. I ignored the way heads turned, the whistles, the too-long stares.
I had a job to do. But then I saw them. Elliot's friends. I groaned under my breath
They were seated in one of the VIP lounges, drinks already in hand, eyes locked on me like wolves spotting prey.
"Well, well," one of them drawled. "Didn't think we'd see you here."
My spine stiffened. I forced a polite smile. "Can I get you anything?"
"Yeah," another chuckled. "How about a private dance? You can make a lot more than tips tonight if you're willing to… entertain."
The table erupted in laughter. I clenched my tray so hard my fingers ached.
"Come on, sweetheart," the first one said. "You want that money for Daddy's bail, right? Why not earn it the fun way?"
Their eyes raked over me..I wanted to slap them.
I wanted to scream. But instead, I smiled.
"I'm here to serve drinks," I said, voice steady. "Not sell myself."
"Come on, Jasmine," one of them sneered. "Give us a twirl."
"Yeah," another added, licking his lips. "You're already dressed for it. Might as well make some real money."
Their laughter felt like nails scraping down my spine. My hands clenched tighter around the tray.
I opened my mouth to tell them off—but Mindie was faster.
She stormed over, planting herself between me and the table of jackals.
"Back off," she snapped, her eyes blazing. "She's working. If you're not ordering drinks, then shut the hell up."
One of them stood, big and smug. "Relax, sweetheart. We're just having fun."
"She's not a toy," Mindie spat. "Neither am I."
"Then maybe you both need to be taught how to play."
Before I could blink, the man shoved her hard. She stumbled back and slammed into the edge of a table behind us. I heard the crack of wood, the sick thud of her head hitting it.
"Mindie!" I dropped the tray, glass shattering at my feet, and rushed to her side.
She was on the floor, groaning, blood trickling from her scalp. Her hand reached for me weakly.
My heart dropped. Everything inside me went quiet.
Then—
Red. Hot, blinding rage. I stood slowly, every inch of me shaking.
They were still laughing. Still smirking like nothing mattered.
My wolf surged up inside me, furious and wild. They had crossed a line. They hurt my best friend. And now?
With a growl tearing from my throat, I launched myself at them.