“Damn it.” Isabella puffed out an exaggerated sigh. As she tossed her phone to the side angrily, she almost yelled, “Great. Just fucking great.”
She slammed her glass on the bar, which cracked into two pieces.
‘How can she do this to me?’
She couldn't believe what that woman just put on Instagram. Why is this happening yet again?
“Whoa, don't do that.” Blaze, the usual barkeep, looked at her with a knowing eye and a warning glance.
“Temptress, what's got your panties in such a way that you start breaking glasses, messing up my bar top?” he shook his head and picked up another glass to fill.
“Well, for starters, I'm fucking alone again.”
Fighting back a few tears of pity at this point, Isabella breathed deeply and continued.
“Alpha Dale and I are over; I called it quits last week.”
Isabella’s hand waves as if to blow off a bug flying about. She would certainly not be seen tearing up over that festering asshole.
She swallowed hard and pushed forward with what had her undies twisted tight.
“Now, I find out that Claire is knocked up and tying the knot, making me the last of our collective group to find love and settle down.”
She dropped her head to the top of the bar. She covered it with her hands and tried not to let a monstrous wail escape her lips.
What made everything change? They were the last two, and now it's just her. All her friends have married and are having babies.
‘Why not me?’ Maybe there’s something wrong with her. Perhaps she was too demanding… too picky. She got this principle that she won’t let that mate thing decide whom she will love. Because not everyone with mates loves each other, she should find that love.
They all promised to be single in college for as long as they could, but she guessed that’s come to a close. Quickly.
Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.
Isabella had wondered why Claire didn't drink at all the last time they went out. Life happens so fast that you don't even see the rug going out from under your feet.
“C'mon now, don't be that kind of friend,” Blaze said. “Jealousy is a terrible disease that can take root quickly.”
He nodded his head as she forced herself to look up at him. She rolled her eyes and replied sarcastically.
“I'm not jealous. As her best friend, she could have told me in person instead of just announcing it to the world.”
Isabella plopped her head and covered it again, hoping Blaze wasn't right.
But he is.
She missed her girls so much. Having a group of girls to hang out with and share your woes and successes makes life bearable. Especially when you call one at three in the morning because some dick just left you in a parking lot, and you know they'll be there.
When Grace moved to Metropolis, they lost touch. That was the start of the group's undoing.
She lifted her head and took another deep breath, groaning loudly instead of shrieking in shame. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders, caressing her open back as she turned to browse the club and its patrons.
It's evident that there’s no party to attend tonight.
This is where all the magic happened. They all loved to hang out there, partying and dancing all night.
She breathed a satirical laugh and remembered being so excited to get here, have a couple of drinks, and just dance away the stresses of daily life—no pack or shifting problems.
Isabella was constantly stressed and pulled in many directions as the CEO of Twilight, a famous jewelry company. It was hard work being at the top.
Being able to deck out in sexy dresses, get out, and leave it all on the dance floor is so refreshing and relieving. She sighed again, moving her body back toward the bar to see Blaze staring at her.
“Can I get you another drink?”
Blaze walks over to her, drying a glass. She didn’t answer, instead shooting him a glare.
“As a bartender, one of the best things I've ever learned is when to keep my mouth shut,” he set the glass down, pouring her another bourbon on the rocks.
“Is that so?”
He slides the drink to her with a wink.
---
The lights and sounds of the club are blinding and deafening. You’d think it’d make for a terrible meeting spot for deal-making, but personally, it’s Alpha Hugo’s favorite.
It serves the same purpose for those on the dance floor. It’s liberating and entrancing. The chaos of music and fluorescents dancing around them creates a dreamlike atmosphere where inhibitions are to be cast aside like a suit worn on a long workday.
Sadly, his would-be business partner is unfazed. Alpha Paris Logan has cultivated a reputation in white-collar circles. The man is ruthless to the point where it borders on sociopathy.
In fact, he had heard a few people within his reach have a quiet bet that there’s some ‘American Psycho’ shit going on behind closed doors.
Seeing him now, Hugo can understand the rumors- though they seem to have been made by people who are shit at judging character. Deep in his eyes is an unshakable will, with the quiet fury of a war general.
The man’s gaze barely shifts from him as they sit across from each other. They may as well be sitting inside the stagnant sterile air of an office. Still, he needed to cut a deal with this man.