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“Don’t worry, Kinsey. Your secret’s safe. I’m sure Bianca is just looking out for you. We all know each other’s business around here. It sucks that you were put in this position, but your pack was obviously undeserving if they couldn’t keep you safe. You’re better off.” Missy grasps my chin, turning my head back to her.
It takes Holly putting her hands on my shoulders to stop me from lashing out. I know I need to keep my cool, but I hate how she brushes off our kidnapping as if it’s our pack’s fault and not our kidnappers. That’s so fucked up. She is definitely brainwashed.
“Like I said before, you will be taken care of here. Madame Samara ensures that our clients respect us. It’s not some scary sex club or anything like that. We’re not forced into doing anything we don’t want. I have my favorites, too. You should see all the gifts I get. I can’t imagine any other life.” Missy strokes the makeup brush through a cream foundation and blends it across my face, ensuring my skin looks flawless and even.
I tune her out as she goes on, counting on Holly to drink in everything. I’m sure she’ll have questions later, but I’m not even sure I’ll have answers. All I want is for the day to be over, so I can return to my room with her for another night of crying.
What am I even thinking?
I need to spend the day figuring out how to contact the guys. If I can find a phone, I can call them. I’ve memorized Enzo’s number. How will I be able to? I will have to put on one hell of a performance, and the thought alone makes me sick to my stomach.
“There. Now be careful what you eat. I don’t want you smudging your ruby lipstick.” Missy swivels her seat and motions for Holly to take the one on the other side of her.
The two of them don’t say much to each other, and Holly just gazes around the room, looking at the other girls as they prepare to head into the club. I skip eating, my stomach too much in knots. I know that we’ll have lunch later. The alphas have free range to feed anyone they want. We have to accept drinks too. I just hope I can fake it enough to get close but not too close to some asshole to steal a phone. Or maybe I can sneak behind the bar. Risk looking for Madame Samara’s office.
All my ideas seem impossible. Most alphas who come to a club like this don’t just leave their phones lying around. They don’t make it easy to get caught. I’m sure many of them are supposed outstanding citizens and some even part of the different Pack Regimes across the country. I guess I’ll have to be creative.
“You’re all done, Bianca,” Missy says, calling Holly by the name she gave Madame Samara.
I keep repeating it in my head to ensure that I don’t accidentally call her by her real name. I wish I had the luxury of making up one of my own.
Missy turns back to the vanity mirror and touches up her lipstick once more before getting to her feet. Sliding into her stiletto heels, she sashays toward the hallway, disappearing behind the curtain. Only a few of us remain in the living area, and I fidget with the glittering beads decorating the leotard. Holly helps me buckle the sparkly stilettos, and I stand up and give myself a once-over in the full-length mirror.
Holly takes a couple of steps, obviously comfortable in heels, and I touch her hand, getting her to turn back to me.
“I had an idea that I wanted to run by you. There will probably be quite a few alphas wanting our attention, especially because we’re only servers and aren’t allowed to be their private entertainers yet. I thought that maybe we can steal a phone, but I’m going to need you to make a distraction. Or if you want me to do it, I can.” I keep my voice low, hoping Holly can hear the words. No one looks in our direction, not even the beta security guard, and it’s the only thing that gives me a bit of hope. I’m sure they think that if we do anything, it would be trying to escape. We’d be more successful to get our pack here. Especially if Madame Samara doesn’t know that it was a Gilded Sands prince who claimed me.
“I can distract. It’ll be easier for me to flirt, considering I’m unbonded. I know what it will do to you.” Holly slides her arms around me and hugs me for a second. “I’m not afraid. You taught me that I can do anything. My order doesn’t define me.”
I smile to myself, her words helping lift my spirits. I only found out that I could do anything because I had to. I wish it wasn’t the same for her, but I’m thankful that I have her in my life.
“Good. Because you’re amazing, Holly. Now let’s get this shit over with. Let’s get home.” Home. Saying the word out loud gives me the strength I need to stroll through the curtain and face the club.
I avert my gaze to the floor, ignoring the omegas dancing on stage, performing erotic stunts on poles for entertainment. There aren’t many alphas in here yet, but it looks as if Madame Samara serves brunch. A bartender makes bloody marys and mimosas. One of her omegas saunters from the kitchen, holding a tray with different breakfast foods, taking them to her.
She sits next to two unfamiliar alphas, just peering around the club. There is a pack in a velvet booth on the other side of the room, and a single alpha sitting at the bar. There are definitely far more omegas than alphas in the moment, and it’s probably why they’ve arrived early.
These must be the regulars and have first dibs on who they want to entertain them. And unfortunately, because there are so few alphas around, my plan to steal a phone might have to wait. Because everybody here already has a companion. I’m meant to serve only.
I remain by Holly’s side, strolling across the club in our skimpy outfits. Our gazes train to the ground, and we manage to make it to the bar without attention from anyone.
“New girls, you work for me until told otherwise. I want you to get your cute asses on the floor and offer everyone a drink. This is the early morning special. It’s included in the entrance fee.” The bartender motions to a stack of trays behind the bar. “If they’d prefer something else, let me know. These are our regulars and our best-paying clients. Make sure you get nice and close, so they tip.” I knew it.
I nod my head. “Yes, sir.”
The bartender sets a tray down and fills it with champagne glasses. “Don’t call me sir. My name’s Quinten.”
It’s only now that I realize he’s not a beta, but he doesn’t act like the usual alphas. He must owe something to Madame Samara. I can’t see why he’d be a bartender for an omega club otherwise.
I bob my head again, grabbing the tray of mimosas. Holly watches how I carry it, and mimics me, balancing it on her palm. She’s probably never served anyone in her life, but thankfully she manages to make do even in her tall heels.
“Head to the elite booth first. They’ll want to finish up soon to have a little performance from Missy and Becca.” Quinten motions to the velvet booth with a pack. “The leader likes to be called Daddy, but you’re free to call the others anything you find suitable. Don’t call them asshole, though. I know you’ll want to.”
I remain expressionless toward his comment. I wonder how much he knows, because he’s treating us nicer than I expect from an alpha who works for Madame Samara. She did mention that they treat their omegas well here, but I don’t trust that. Good people don’t buy kidnapped omegas. They don’t love bomb them and try to brainwash them.
“Thanks for the tip,” Holly says. She speaks with a sugary tone, her smile matching her bright face.
“Anytime, Bianca. We want you to be happy here.” The bartender flicks his bar towel at us. “Now shake your cute asses all the way there. Let’s get some money. Get me a good tip and I’ll buy you each something you want.”
