She Rogue

10. A New Proposal

Atria’s POV

At quarter to two, I heard the rumble of a car approaching, its sound cutting through the stillness of my secluded home. Out here, miles from civilization, the arrival of any vehicle was an event in itself. My enhanced wolf hearing picked it up long before it came into view, and I knew it had to be Mark.

I’d been ready for nearly an hour, pacing the small shack as I tried to shake off the lingering nerves from last night’s dreams and Aurelia’s insistence that we had to “play our cards right.” I wasn’t sure if I agreed with her plan, but the thought of Gabriel still sent a strange, confusing flutter through my chest.

The SUV rolled into view, its sleek black exterior gleaming in the midday sun.

Mark pulled up, stepping out with his usual confident ease. He wore the same casual leather jacket and boots, his grin, as wide and reassuring as ever, was the first thing I noticed. In his hand, he carried a bright pink bag that looked comically out of place against his hulking frame.

“Morning, sunshine,” he called, his tone as cheerful as if we’d known each other for years. “Slept well?”

I couldn’t help but smile at his cheery tone. “I actually did, thanks for asking. How about you?”

“Doing great, as always,” he replied, handing me the bag. “Here, try this on. Bamby insisted you check the fit before we head out, just in case she needs time to find another size.”

“Bamby sent this?” I asked, glancing sceptically at the bag. Its vibrant colour clashed horribly with my muted surroundings.

“She did. I think she has a soft spot for you already,” Mark teased, his grin widening.

I wasn’t entirely sure I believed him, but I took the bag and headed inside. “Would you like something to drink while you wait?”

“Nah, pumpkin, I’ll be fine. Take your time.” he said, leaning casually against the SUV.

The nickname made me roll my eyes, but I didn’t argue. Closing the door behind me, I opened the bag and pulled out the uniform.

To my relief, it was simple—black trousers and a crisp white shirt with a built-in corset. It was professional yet flattering, a far cry from the revealing outfits I’d feared.

The corset took some figuring out, but once adjusted, it fit well. Maybe a half size too big, but comfortable nonetheless.

I tied my hair into a ponytail and glanced at my reflection in the cracked mirror above the sink. The uniform gave me an air of sophistication I wasn’t used to seeing in myself.

When I stepped outside, Mark gave me an approving nod.

“Looks good,” he said. “Are you ready to go?”

“I am,” I nodded, still feeling slightly self-conscious.

The drive to the club was uneventful, though Mark’s light conversation made the hour pass quickly. I found myself relaxing in his presence, a rarity for me.

When we arrived, Bamby greeted me at the door, her warm smile instantly putting me at ease.

“Welcome back, Atria,” she said brightly.

“Hi, Bamby. Thanks,” I replied, that strange sense of belonging washing over me again.

“Gabs is expecting you,” she added. “He’s in his office.”

Mark led the way through the familiar corridor, his steps purposeful. As we approached Gabriel’s office, my heart quickened. I didn’t know if it was nerves, anticipation, or something else entirely.

Mark buzzed the door open, and I stepped forward, only to trip slightly over the threshold. Before I could fall, Gabriel’s arms caught me, steadying me effortlessly.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with concern. His strong hands steadied me, his touch sending a shiver down my spine.

“I’m fine,” I mumbled, mortified as I stepped back. My cheeks burned, and I avoided his gaze, knowing Mark was still behind me.

Gabriel didn’t let go right away, his hands lingering a second longer than necessary. His dark eyes searched mine, and for a moment, I felt like the world around us disappeared.

He finally released me, stepping aside to let me enter. The scent of burnt forest and expensive cologne enveloped me, the notes of cinnamon and orange chocolate teasing my senses. I kept my gaze low, trying to steady my breathing as he shut the door behind us.

Gabriel’s hand brushed my back lightly, guiding me to the chair in front of his desk. Even that small contact sent goosebumps racing across my skin. I clenched my hands in my lap, determined not to let him see the effect he had on me.

“Please, sit,” he said, his voice low and smooth, the way he said my name almost a purr.

I obeyed, struggling to steady my breathing.

I’d never felt anything like this before. My life had always been about survival—finding food, shelter, and avoiding danger. I’d never allowed myself to think about things like attraction or intimacy.

But Gabriel stirred something in me that I couldn’t ignore.

I caught myself staring at his desk, my mind wandering to forbidden thoughts.

What would his lips taste like?

What would it feel like to fall asleep in his arms?

What if he…

The heat rose to my cheeks, and I quickly looked up, only to find Gabriel watching me. His intense gaze locked onto mine, dark and unreadable

“You wanted to see me, Gabriel?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“Yes,” he said, his tone serious but soft. “There are a few matters we need to discuss.”

“A few?” I echoed, surprised.

“Firstly, I’d like to apologize for my behaviour yesterday,” he began, his expression earnest. “I genuinely thought you were one of the agency girls. It was a mistake, and I regret my assumptions.”

“Thank you,” I said quietly, unsure how to respond.

“Secondly,” he continued, his gaze sharp, “I was hoping you’d given my proposal some thought.”

I took a deep breath, bracing myself. “I did,” I said carefully. “I’m sorry, Gabriel, but I’m not that kind of girl. I appreciate the offer, but I won’t sell my body, not to you or anyone else.”

I paused, gathering my courage before continuing. “I’m happy to work the bar, waitress, or even clean while there’s work available, but once the job ends, I’ll move on. I hope you understand.”

Gabriel leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I feared I’d overstepped, but then he gave a slow nod.

“I understand,” he said, his tone measured. “In that case, I’d like to offer you a permanent position… as a Filler.”

“A what?” I asked, startled.