“Damn it.” Isabella puffed out an exaggerated sigh. As she tossed her phone to the side angrily, she almost yelled, “Great. Just fucking great.”

She slammed her glass on the bar, which cracked into two pieces.

‘How can she do this to me?’

She couldn't believe what that woman just put on Instagram. Why is this happening yet again?

“Whoa, don't do that.” Blaze, the usual barkeep, looked at her with a knowing eye and a warning glance.

“Temptress, what's got your panties in such a way that you start breaking glasses, messing up my bar top?” he shook his head and picked up another glass to fill.

“Well, for starters, I'm fucking alone again.”

Fighting back a few tears of pity at this point, Isabella breathed deeply and continued.

“Alpha Dale and I are over; I called it quits last week.”

Isabella’s hand waves as if to blow off a bug flying about. She would certainly not be seen tearing up over that festering asshole.

She swallowed hard and pushed forward with what had her undies twisted tight.

“Now, I find out that Claire is knocked up and tying the knot, making me the last of our collective group to find love and settle down.”

She dropped her head to the top of the bar. She covered it with her hands and tried not to let a monstrous wail escape her lips.

What made everything change? They were the last two, and now it's just her. All her friends have married and are having babies.

‘Why not me?’ Maybe there’s something wrong with her. Perhaps she was too demanding… too picky. She got this principle that she won’t let that mate thing decide whom she will love. Because not everyone with mates loves each other, she should find that love.

They all promised to be single in college for as long as they could, but she guessed that’s come to a close. Quickly.

Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.

Isabella had wondered why Claire didn't drink at all the last time they went out. Life happens so fast that you don't even see the rug going out from under your feet.

“C'mon now, don't be that kind of friend,” Blaze said. “Jealousy is a terrible disease that can take root quickly.”

He nodded his head as she forced herself to look up at him. She rolled her eyes and replied sarcastically.

“I'm not jealous. As her best friend, she could have told me in person instead of just announcing it to the world.”

Isabella plopped her head and covered it again, hoping Blaze wasn't right.

But he is.

She missed her girls so much. Having a group of girls to hang out with and share your woes and successes makes life bearable. Especially when you call one at three in the morning because some dick just left you in a parking lot, and you know they'll be there.

When Grace moved to Metropolis, they lost touch. That was the start of the group's undoing.

She lifted her head and took another deep breath, groaning loudly instead of shrieking in shame. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders, caressing her open back as she turned to browse the club and its patrons.

It's evident that there’s no party to attend tonight.

This is where all the magic happened. They all loved to hang out there, partying and dancing all night.

She breathed a satirical laugh and remembered being so excited to get here, have a couple of drinks, and just dance away the stresses of daily life—no pack or shifting problems.

Isabella was constantly stressed and pulled in many directions as the CEO of Twilight, a famous jewelry company. It was hard work being at the top.

Being able to deck out in sexy dresses, get out, and leave it all on the dance floor is so refreshing and relieving. She sighed again, moving her body back toward the bar to see Blaze staring at her.

“Can I get you another drink?”

Blaze walks over to her, drying a glass. She didn’t answer, instead shooting him a glare.

“As a bartender, one of the best things I've ever learned is when to keep my mouth shut,” he set the glass down, pouring her another bourbon on the rocks.

“Is that so?”

He slides the drink to her with a wink.

---

The lights and sounds of the club are blinding and deafening. You’d think it’d make for a terrible meeting spot for deal-making, but personally, it’s Alpha Hugo’s favorite.

It serves the same purpose for those on the dance floor. It’s liberating and entrancing. The chaos of music and fluorescents dancing around them creates a dreamlike atmosphere where inhibitions are to be cast aside like a suit worn on a long workday.

Sadly, his would-be business partner is unfazed. Alpha Paris Logan has cultivated a reputation in white-collar circles. The man is ruthless to the point where it borders on sociopathy.

In fact, he had heard a few people within his reach have a quiet bet that there’s some ‘American Psycho’ shit going on behind closed doors.

Seeing him now, Hugo can understand the rumors- though they seem to have been made by people who are shit at judging character. Deep in his eyes is an unshakable will, with the quiet fury of a war general.

The man’s gaze barely shifts from him as they sit across from each other. They may as well be sitting inside the stagnant sterile air of an office. Still, he needed to cut a deal with this man.

“Paris, I’m sure you’re well aware of the steady decline of your industry,” Hugo said as if trying to give him some friendly advice.

In truth, it’s a gentle threat. Hugo was unsure if Paris even blinked.

“More and more shopping is taking place online. You need to give them a reason to leave the quiet comforts of home. I’m currently in possession of many retailers, luxury retailers, and entertainment companies. Things that just can’t be captured in a picture with a blurb next to it.”

For the first time since their initial handshake, the man spoke.

“So, what are you proposing exactly?”

Hugo cracked a smile. “A partnership.”

“You let me rent a few stores in your malls at a discounted rate. I will have my market researchers scout out each of your malls and find the most appropriate attractions; then, we renovate your malls into entertainment centers. Your malls will return to being the primary pillars of entire counties. We will immediately establish them as a premium experience.”

Hugo rethinks his proposal. The pitch is solid—it’s a classic win-win. Paris gets the increased profits of a new consumer base, and his companies get secure, guaranteed work for the near future. On top of that, his market share expands- and he does so at a cheaper rate than if he did so through their subsidiaries.

Paris’s expression remains solid as he answers.

“You’ll pay the usual rate. Each shop you wish to set up will be individually approved, and the same will go for any of your renovations.”

Hugo stared at the man, dumbfounded. “Then what would be in it for me?”

Paris’s counter-proposal is ridiculous. It removes any and all points of Hugo even agreeing to a deal. Transactions going case-by-case take time, putting Hugo at the mercy of competitors.

Theme parks have already begun moving into outdated malls, taking advantage of the quickly dying industry. The practice is only going to become more common over the next decade.

“I don’t know, Mr. Adams; you arranged this meeting. You tell me.”

The balls on this guy. He’s straight face-fucking him and acting like he was the one asking for it.

“I believe my initial proposal is more than rewarding enough for both of us. Yours takes away almost all of the advantages I seek to gain,” Hugo said, fighting to keep his cool.

“You’d get the standard revenue you’d expect from the stores plus attractions you hope to build,” he stated coldly.

“Paris, I…”

“Mr. Logan,” he chastises as if Hugo was some underling.

Hugo doesn’t give him the satisfaction and continues as if he weren’t interrupted.

“You and I are both aware of the logistics of what you’re proposing. I’m offering a large-scale revamp of your entire industry. You’re asking me to build a skyscraper, but I must negotiate every floor as we go.”

“Again, Mr. Adams, you’re the one approaching me,” Paris said.

He and his team rise to leave.

“Don’t fault me for your poor presentation,” he asserted as they walked away from Hugo and his own team.

They all give Hugo the cliché yes-man words of support, but it all falls on deaf ears. He was irate. The fool either thinks he was in bad faith or he’s blind. He was the one trying to save his enterprise.

Either way, the man isn’t a partner. And frankly, it isn’t even worth trying to make him one. He’s a rival. A competitor in the way of his long-term goals.

Hugo felt a throb in his temple and prayed it wasn’t a migraine.

‘Damn it! I need a drink and a woman.’

Thankfully he was in a club that’s chock-full of both.

Hugo scanned the club and the writhing mass of partiers. He could see the usual lot, drunk frat types, and more than a few too-easy-looking she-wolves in cocktail dresses. The idea of going to the hoard crosses his mind, but the thought doesn’t excite him.

He looked away from the dance floor and bar to the dining tables. At this point in the night, they’re usually empty. The normal occupants are good and drunk and want to dance or fuck.

Tonight, however, there is one occupant.

The club may as well be empty. Hugo’s eyes are locked on her, and he quickly makes his way down to her. As he strode closer to her, he noted her impressive stature.

Her eyes rise from her glass, and her gaze nearly locks him in place.

‘Who is this woman?’

“May I help you?” She asked as her eyes ran unashamedly up and down Hugo’s body.

Hugo simply smiled. “I’m not sure yet,” he replied, holding his hand out to her. “Hugo.”

Her eyebrows arch, and a smile spread across her face.

“Feliz.”

“I hope you’re not sitting here because you can’t dance,” he teased.

She snickered before knocking back the rest of her glass. She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet.

“Can you?” she asked her face inches from his.