Chapter 7
Across the room, surrounded by a sea of half–naked, glistening muscles, who else could it be but Cara–the woman who had just audaciously booked eight strippers in one go?
I froze mid–step. My gaze locked on her.
My fists clenched by my sides, and something hot and ugly twisted in my chest. Without another word, I stood up abruptly, the force of the motion knocking my glass over. It
clinked and rolled across the table, ignored.
“Arthur?” Andy called out, surprised. “Where are you going?”
I didn’t answer. My feet were already moving, my strides long and purposeful, cutting through the club’s neon haze and pounding bass. My vision tunneled.
Cara’s POV:
Eight strippers. Eight.
They had encircled me like some sort of glittering, oiled–up reverse harem, and I had to admit–visually? 10/10. They were all smiling, laughing, flexing for attention like golden
retrievers on steroids.
One leaned down, his voice low and teasing in my ear, “Sweetheart, let’s play a game.”
Cathy, perched beside me in her red dress that hugged every curve, clapped her hands in
delight. “Yes! We’re playing. No backing out now, Cara!”
I raised an eyebrow, amused. “You’re the worst influence.”
She winked. “That’s why you love me.”
The first round was a drinking game involving dice and dares. Predictably, I lost. One of the
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The Alpha’s Shame Files:Scheduling His Emergency ED Consultation
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Chapter 7
strippers, blond, tall, with a six–pack that looked Photoshopped, brought a glass to my lips.
“Here you go, sweetheart. Drink for me.”
I smirked and took it, downing it without flinching.
But that only stirred the pot.
“Hey, hey, hey! Why’d she only drink from your glass?” one of the others whined with
exaggerated offense. “What about us, sweetheart?”
Another leaned in from my left. “Yeah, we wanna feed you too!”
They were like puppies fighting for attention–very sexy, half–naked puppies. It was honestly hilarious and overwhelming, in the most intoxicating way.
Being the center of attention like this–it was new.
Exhilarating.
God, is this what men enjoy all the time? This sense of being doted on, desired, catered to?
I couldn’t remember the last time anyone fussed over me like this.
This divorce was the best decision I’d ever made. I raised my glass again, tipsy but giddy. Being a housewife who tiptoes around a man’s moods? Who gives up her dreams, her time, her identity to serve someone who looks right through her?
Not. Me. Anymore.
Let Arthur rot.
Just as I reached for another shot, a large, calloused hand grabbed my wrist. Hard.
I gasped, startled. The suddenness of it sent my glass clattering to the floor, forgotten.
Before I could react, I was yanked to my feet as if I weighed nothing.
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Chapter 7
I looked up–and was met with a face I knew too well.
Arthur.
His eyes were molten steel, his jaw set, and every inch of his face radiated fury and restraint on the verge of snapping.
My heart jumped, and not in a good way.
“Arthur?!” I struggled, trying to pull away from his iron grip. “Let go of me!”
He said nothing, just hauled me off like I was a misbehaving child. The strippers looked confused. Cathy sprang to her feet.
“Arthur, what the hell do you think you’re doing?! Let her go!”
Behind her, Andy and a few other Alphas who had wandered over from the bar gawked in
disbelief.
“Wait… Cara?”
“Holy sh- She’s Cara?”
“Is that the same Cara who used to hide behind those ugly sweaters?”
“She’s gorgeous!”
“Damn, no wonder Arthur’s flipping out. I’d lose my mind too.”
Their voices buzzed around me like bees, but I couldn’t focus on them. Arthur’s grip was
firm and possessive, fingers digging into my wrist with just enough pressure to remind me
who was stronger. His long strides made me stumble behind him, heels clacking against the polished floor.
“Arthur, I said let go!” I shouted again, voice high with rage and disbelief.
We turned a corner, and he suddenly spun, slamming me against the cold wall with a thud. I gasped at the impact.
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Chapter 7
Then his body pressed in close, trapping me. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to look but up into his furious eyes.
He was so close I could see the storm in them.
“Cara,” he growled, his voice low and trembling with rage, “do you think I’m dead or something?”
I narrowed my eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“You come in here, dressed like that-” He flicked his gaze down to my silver sequin mini
skirt, the one Cathy had insisted I wear. “What the hell are you trying to prove?”
“Prove?” I laughed, but it was sharp and humorless. “Since when do I need to prove
anything to you?”
His jaw ticked. “Your skirt barely covers your
“What?” I cut him off. “My thighs? You mean these legs?”
He froze when I leaned back against the wall and lifted my right leg. Slowly, deliberately, I let the toe of my stiletto trail along the fabric of his tailored trousers, from his ankle up to
his calf.
It was bold. Sensual. A blatant act of seduction–and defiance.
His muscles tensed beneath my touch.
“What the hell are you doing?” he said, voice hoarse.
I smiled sweetly. “Tell me, Arthur. Between my legs and Lucy’s, which do
His gaze flickered–just for a moment–and I saw it.
That crack. That memory.
He wasn’t seeing me–he was seeing her.
you prefer?”
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Chapter 7
Rage burned in my chest. All this time, had I only ever been Lucy’s stand–in?
I leaned in close, our lips inches apart. “Did Lucy’s legs ever wrap around your waist?”
His breath hitched. A flash of something darker passed over his face, and then he snapped,
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” he spat. “You’re that desperate? Eight strippers?
Eight?”
He didn’t answer my question about Lucy.
Of course he didn’t. Because if he did, the illusion of his perfect, tragic first love might
shatter.
Lucy had him when he was young, vulnerable, full of hope. Their love had been wild and vivid–everything he never gave to me.
And even now, after everything, he still protected her.
He never once called her a slut.
But me?
Here I was–his wife, his partner for years–now labeled “desperate” and “slutty” for wanting attention, for daring to live a little after our cold, dead marriage.
Tears threatened behind my lashes. I blinked rapidly.
No. Not tonight.
I had spent two hours on this makeup. I looked like a goddess. I wouldn’t let him ruin that–not again.
I lifted my chin, wiped the emotion from my face like smudged lipstick, and forced a smile.
You’ll never see me broken again, Arthur.
We’re over.
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Chapter 7
From now on, I live for me.
From now on, I speak when I want, dress how I want, dance with whoever I want.
No more being a placeholder. No more waiting for a man who never chose me.
I am done.
I looked into the eyes of the man I used to love, and with a smile sharp enough to cut glass,
I said clearly:
“Yeah. Arthur, since your alpha body can’t satisfy me, of course I’m out looking for men who can. Let’s speed this divorce up, shall we? One man doesn’t work, I’ll just find another.
The next one will be better–and obedient.”
Arthur’s eyes darkened. With a low growl rumbling in his chest, he reached out and pinched my chin between his fingers. “Trying to provoke me? You that desperate to find out
if I’m ‘functional‘ or not?”
Author’s Words: Come on, show everyone what you’re really capable of!
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