Page 3 of The Ballerina

Standing, I turn to walk away but Jana wraps her arms around my middle, stopping me in place.

“Do you have to tell her about me?” she whispers in my ear.

Shock courses through me. “You still want to be with me even if I have a mate?”

I turn to face her. I need to see her every reaction to gauge if she is being serious. It won’t be ideal, but it would work. Except for the initial mating, after the damn ceremony on Saturday, the only time I will have to be with my mate intimately is when she goes into her heat. The only issue is I know in my heart Jana won’t be able to handle something like that. She is built to be loved, cherished, and protected. She isn’t built to be the “other woman,” no matter how badly she wants to be. She won’t be able to handle being left on her own for days on end while I tend to my mate.

“I can’t stand the thought of you with anyone but me,” she says earnestly. “But if this is the only way to be with you, I want to try. She isn’t your fated mate either and I am the one who holds your heart, Atlas.”

“Jana,” I say sadly. “Your heart wouldn’t be able to bear it.”

“It’s my choice, Atlas. And I want to try.” A spark of anger shows itself.

I should tell her no and walk away. But like the petulant, spoiled child my father constantly accuses me of being, I think this will help me get my way.

“Whatever you want, Love. As long as I can still have you.”

Chapter Three

The Ballerina

I haven’t told Quinn that I need to quit. I know departing from the club will leave her short staffed, but I am hoping I will be able to keep my job. If I’m lucky my newhusbandwon’t have any interest in me besides the perfunctory breeding. If he doesn’t want me to be underfoot, I can keep doing what I love even after this ridiculous mating ceremony is over.

Sitting in the back, I touch up my makeup after finishing my routine. I have already gotten all my effects in order for tomorrow. In my cupboard, I have a pretty white sundress with a lace overlay that I will wear for the ceremony. I may not want to go through with this, but I know if I make anything less than the full effort, my father will lose his fucking mind.

He is not a good man, or a good father. He is prone to violent outbursts that can run for minutes or days. I have been on the receiving end of his punishments before and would prefer to avoid doing that again.

“Ballerina,” Quinn calls out as she makes her way through the other dancers. “I have a bachelor party that just watched your routine and have requested a private dance. Are you up for it?”

“How many guys?”

“Three.”

“Give me five minutes to change and I will be out.”

Quickly I drop my robe and find a different outfit. Neon pink lace underwear, black-and-pink plaid schoolgirl-style skirt with a matching tie, and white thigh-high stockings with black stiletto heels. I purposefully undo the top three buttons on the shirt to show off the lace from my bra before I make sure my hair is perfectly in place.

Making sure to put an extra sway into my hips, I step outfrom the back and stride toward the bar. Chin up, breasts out, I strut like the proud peacock I am. I can feel the eyes of the other patrons as I walk to the table, smiling at some of the regulars, and it has pride surging through me. I work hard to stay in shape and keep my appearance perfect and it shows.

“Sam,” I call out to the bartender. “Give me a bottle of Fireball and three shot glasses.”

He laughs loudly while gathering the items I requested. “You love doing this, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir. I wouldn’t want it any other way.” I bat my eyelashes at him as I steady the black tray on my left hand before striding away. All the hours of ballet have helped me perfect my balance.

At the entrance to the private room, I knock loudly, count to three, and push the door open before striding in confidently. Three men dressed in suits stare back at me, each of them assessing me with various levels of interest.

“Gentlemen,” I purr seductively. My name is Ballerina, and I will be your entertainment for the next hour.”

“Entertainment?”

The question comes from the man with jet-black hair and icy-blue eyes. Depositing my tray on the coffee table I take a seat beside him on the tan leather couch. His scent hits me, and heat floods my core. Peppermint and coffee.

Thank God for my suppression patch. The males will assume I am simply aroused. If I wasn’t wearing the patch, my omega scent would be filling the room and the club, driving every male mad. The scent of an unmated omega in a state of arousal is enough to drive betas insane. Alphas will rampage and tear this place brick from brick to get to someone like me.

“You are paying for my time and as long as your request falls within the rules we uphold here at Dark Side of the Moon, the sky is the limit. Dancing, talking, drinking, whatever youwant.”

I run my fingers along his thigh, trying to entice something, except a frown from the man has me enraptured. Interest shines in his eyes but he holds himself back, spreading his thighs and resting his arms along the back of the couch. More comfortable in his own skin than any man I have ever met. He knows he is attractive and the smell of my arousal hanging in the air is only making him cockier.

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