Page 1 of Claimed By the Boss

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The scent of Alpha pheromones seeps past the edges of my mask as I weave between the tables at Velvet Oasis, a tray of drinks balanced on one hand.

A flush creeps up my neck, despite the suppressants I took before starting my shift. Pushing out pheromones in public spaces is illegal, since it affects two-thirds of the world’s population, but there’s no way to stop what naturally leaks out.

With the poor ventilation in this place and how long it’s been open, pheromones saturate every surface from the grimy carpet to the cracked plastic booths, to the peeling wallpaper.

Stupid Tony only gives his waitstaff cheap paper masks and only allots one mask per shift before we have to pay out of pocket. By the third hour, the moisture from my breath nearly cancels out its effectiveness, but anything is better than breathing the pheromones directly.

Despite the dancer on stage doing his best to hold customers’ attention, hands still reach out to grab and grope me as I pass. I grit my teeth and keep walking, mindful of the full drinks on my tray. If they tip over, refilling them comes out of my pocket.

Just get through this shift, I chant in my head as I lock my eyes on the table near the stage that my drinks belong to. The tips are shit, but I need the money.

A sharp slap on my ass nearly makes me drop everything before I set the tray safely on the table.

The hand on my ass moves, fingers digging into my crease. “When are you going to stop waiting tables and come be my boy, Leo? I’ll give you everything you need.”

Richard Ballcrest. VIP member of Velvet Oasis and one of Tony’s highest-paying customers. He’s also a giant asshole, and the dancers call him Dick behind his back, but never to his face. He throws around too much money to risk losing him as a customer.

“Not tonight, sir.” Glad that the mask hides my disgust, I shift away from his touch. “Please excuse me while I deliver this order.”

Before my hand can touch the tray, he grabs my wrist, yanking me close.

His thick, sandalwood cologne mingles with the blast of pheromones he sends at me, potent even through my mask.

Rich was already here when I clocked in for my shift, and hours of drinking have left his bulbous nose red and his inhibitions low.

“Don’t play coy, boy.” He massages my ass. “You’re just working here until you can find a wealthy Alpha to pay your way and breed you. I’m offering to do that.”

The loud music in the club prevents the people at the surrounding tables from hearing the conversation, but they have to know what’s happening just from our body position.

When I glance around, though, no one meets my eyes. I’m on my own.

Stomach tight, I turn back to Rich. “Please let go.”

“Or what?” His thick lips curl into a sneer. “Gonna run and beg Tony to help you? Who do you think he’ll side with? A little bitch like you? Or the man who bankrolls this place?”

Frustrated helplessness floods through me. Tony takes care of his staff, but he won’t risk upsetting Rich unless the Alpha pushes things too far. And a little groping isn’t too far in a place like this.

I try to pull away, but Rich’s grip tightens like a vise while his hand on my ass presses my slacks against my entrance. “Have you ever had an Alpha take proper care of you here? You feel tight. I’ll pay extra if I’m the first to break this seal.”

Panic rises in my chest, and I reach back to push his hand away, but the man’s strength overpowers me.

“Is there a problem here?”

My heart leaps as Nolan’s familiar voice cuts through the noise in the club. Finally, someone to save me from this brute. Tony may let Rich do what he wants, but Nolan owns this place, so his word is law.

I peek up through my lashes, taking in Nolan’s tall, broad form as he approaches. The crisp lines of his tailored suit stand out in contrast to the dingy decor of the club, and the clean lines of his jaw look like he just shaved, despite it creeping up on nine o’clock at night.

Cold, green eyes land on Rich’s hand on my ass, and Nolan’s nostrils flare. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Just having a little fun.” Rich squeezes my ass for emphasis, and I wince in pain.

“Waitstaff are not entertainers in this club.” Steel hardens Nolan’s voice. “Let. Him. Go.”

Rich scoffs, but releases me.

I rub my wrist, a bloom of red in the shape of his fingers marring my pale skin.

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