Chapter 3
1187 Words
5 YEARS LATER.
I felt the chilly night air hit my face, and I mildly squinted my eyes. I gently pulled my fur coat closer to my cold neck, covering what's left of it. The night seemed impeccably dark and peaceful, but my ears still rang from all the sound back at the club house earlier.
As I watched the coffee that was going cold on the table right in front of me, I began to think back at the events that had happened yesterday. As a stripper, I shouldn't get privileges like this ; wearing fur coats that cost a fortune, wearing a red dress that felt just right under my skin and make up that felt so light on my face, I barely felt it.
"Go to the Mete Dior," the stripper club manager, Donovan had said to me yesterday after pulling me to a corner, a slim paper in his hands, pointing at me "call that number as soon as you leave. A makeover lady would pick you up. The boss wants to see you."
At the club, we weren't allowed to ask questions, so I just accepted the card, called the lady as soon as I reached my apartment, and was scheduled for a makeover. The following afternoon a woman was on my door steps with her make over team and in the next few hours, I was transformed into this beautiful woman seated at this table right now, waiting for a man I'd only ever heard about: Asher Stephens.
I tried to wonder about the possible reasons why my boss could probably want to see me, especially at a place like this, dressed like this, but I couldn't place it. So I waited, hoping every passing minute that he would appear and get this over with.
Without warning, I felt the presence of a man hovering over me from behind but before I could look to see who it was, Asher Stephens was standing in front of me, his eyes casually sweeping my entire body.
I watched him, words seemingly escaping me. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his ocean blue ones because somehow they seemed to have hypnotized me.
Still holding my gaze, his lips drew into a smile as he sat down in front of me.
"Did I keep you waiting?" His voice is beautiful and masculine, and it spoke volume."Go ahead and do whatever you want to me, I can't apologize enough."
A gentleman.
I'd expected him to be some nagging bastard who was just too rich to care about any other person's feelings, especially not his employee's.
I wanted to look away, but I needed to see him just one last time. He was tall, at least 6 feet. His chest was broad, and his arms muscular even though they were seemingly concealed by the well tailored dark suits he wore. His blond hair was neatly shaved at the under and gelled to one side, and his face was rid of mustach or beards. His face was wide, his jaw lined perfectly, his slim lips a shade of bright pink and his brows full and well carved. His masculinity wasn't one to miss.
And at that moment, I knew who Asher Stephens was. He was the type of man you walk past on the streets and stop to turn and get a second glance at. And a third. And fourth until you start feeling like a creep because people see you obsessively ogling at a fine man going.
Quickly looking down on my cold coffee, I chuckled nervously and replied, "No....no.....I just.... I just got here." I look up, and I'm met with his ocean eyes again.
"But I see your coffee is cold out." He pointed out.
"I like my coffee cold actually," I lied.
But he nods anyway like he was buying my lie.
He settles down on his seat, reaching over his stomach to unbutton his suits. I noticed four men walk to our table and set down foods of different kinds. I've never eaten any of the dishes, and I never made the order, so I assumed they were pre-ordered by Asher.
I watched him as he picked up a spoon as soon as the men left and leaned over the bowl of soup set in front of him, scooping it into his mouth. I couldn't get my eyes off the thin vein that lined his neck as he gulped down the soup. The sight causes the hair on my skin to stand. What was this feeling?
He looked up at me and said, "You're probably still wondering why I called you here. But i promise to tell you if you eat......please..."
I was stunned. I didn't understand why he was acting so nice and so casual with me. I gently picked up my spoon and stared to eat the food on my table.
After a shirt while, I heard his deep voice again. "i called you here today because I've had you on my mind for a while now......." I look up to see him now."I asked Donovan not to tell you anything. But i.....I have taken a great liking in you since the first day you started working at the club......."
He knows me?
"I know.......not to sound like a creep, but I've known everything about you since day 1, and i am here for two reasons. One, to tell you that I would really like to profess my undying feelings for you and two to ask you to be my contracted wife."
What? I couldn't speak. I was lost in his soft eyes.and.the. way his lips moved.
Being his contracted wife means agreeing to marry him for some amount of money. And he said that he knew everything about me. Did that include my past? This proposal of his also begs the question: where is his mate? And why did he need a contract wife when he could get any woman easily whenever he wanted?
Before I could speak, he reached for my hand on the table and pulled it gently. His touch felt soft and so unreal against my skin.
"I know this sounds all crazy but i would not force you to marry me. I would like you to give me a chance to get to know me better, Valentina Montane. "
I was never truly good at reading people, but as I watched him, I thought I saw something different in his eyes, his composure. I've never seen Asher Stephens until tonight, and I felt this strange connection to him. I looked down on his hand, which rested against mine and thought,'How long has it been, huh?'
This was it. This was the call I needed. I'd spent five years hoping Alpha Mikhail would come back looking for me and taking me back because he finally realized he couldn't live without me. But as the years passed, I'd come to accept my fate. But tonight, seating across from this gorgeous man, I've finally come to a conclusion.
'It is time to finally let you go, Mikhail '
- Writer
