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Fear?No, that can’t be it. What could she possibly be afraid of?
“I was actually hoping to talk to you about that,” she says.
“Oh?” My eyes fall down her form to her feet and climb their way back up again. Everything seems to be in order with her outfit. Did she have trouble finding something? Was there not enough on the gift card I left for her?
“Sure. What questions?”
Her gaze flicks briefly toward the hostess, who immediately gets the drift. “I’m going to go make sure the sections are clean and ready for the dinner rush,” she says before sweeping away, leaving us alone.
Immediately, my pulse picks up, but I clear my throat and think about dirty socks as a distraction. Getting a boner in the middle of the dining room would be a bit rude.
“I wanted to thank you,” she starts off timidly.
“It’s not a problem,” I assure her. “Everyone needs a little help from time to time, but that’s not a question.”
I hear her audibly swallow, and she shifts nervously back and forth. Clearly, there’s something bothering her about the uniform situation, but I’m not sure what it could be. I was subtle about delivering it. I didn’t even let Damon know what I was doing. It’s our little secret. Not that it’s a big deal; I’d give her whatever she wanted if she asked for it.
“What do you want me to do with the rest on the gift card?” she asks, uncertainty in her eyes.
I shrug, unsure why it’s even a question. “Keep it.”
Her eyes pop wide, and she shakes her head. “I can’t do that.”
“What? Why?” My disbelief is evident, and I immediately collect myself. She can’t know how flustered she makes me. It wouldn’t bode well for either of us.
“There’s over a hundred dollars left on there,” she blanches, her reply a hissing whisper. “I can’t accept that.”
“It’s just a hundred dollars.” I shrug, not sure what the big issue is. I get that she’s broke right now and doesn’t have much, but a spare hundred dollars isn’t hurting anything. It’s certainly not hurting my bank account.
“That’s a lot of money for me, Alex.” Her eyes narrow on my shortened name, and I know I’ve struck a nerve, but I’m still not sure why. “I don’t take handouts. I’m willing to work for my money.”
My jaw hardens at her defiance.
Not that I don’t enjoy it, but I’ve never had anyone reject a gift from me before. Most would be over the moon to receive an alpha’s attention, let alone a gift from one.
It’s different, unsettling, and so fucking hot, it’s all I can do to keep a leash on my self-restraint.
Her disobedience makes me want to wrap my hand around her throat like a necklace and splay her across one of these tables, rutting into her until she submits.
Dirty socks, Damon’s grandma–sorry Barbara–sour milk.I think of anything other than Jessa bent over for me, my hands gripping her ass as she begs for my cock, but I can feel the tension swelling in my knot.
“When an alpha gives you something, I suggest you take it,” I say, lowering my voice. “Just say thank you.”
Fire lights in her eyes, which intensifies the throb in my knot and nearly brings me to my knees. What fucking witchcraft is this?
I can tell she still wants to argue with me, but I straighten up taller, shoulders back. I don’t assert my alpha dominance often–after all these years, threatening people to bend to my will has lost its appeal–but it’s always there, hovering just beneath my collected surface, waiting to be unleashed.
The authority. The power. It isn’t something I ever want to use on Jessa. I hate that I’m using it now, but I can’t comprehend why she doesn’t just accept my generosity and move on like any other beta.
Even the most defiant of betas don’t ignore direct orders.
“Thank you,” she says finally, ending on a groan. She crosses her arms over her chest.
“Perfect. You’ll be training with Sara tonight. She’s going to show you the table order and how to seat guests. You’ll be putting in to-go orders, and maybe taking a table or two if she feels like you’re up to it. Then, you’ll help her close the front end.”
“And you?” she asks, tilting her head to the side. “Are you leaving again?”
Yes. Yes, I’m definitely leaving. In fact, I shouldn’t be having this conversation; I should already be gone. The answer she’s looking for is yes.
