Page 1 of Queen of Diamonds

1

GLADE

Black coffee was a shot of adrenaline to sleepless veins.

The first sip was as bitter as it was necessary as I peered down through the broad breakroom window. Below me was an opulent club with the spotlights that lit up a dance stage.

I was a bartender at the High Roller where rich patrons came to watch Omegas dance—Omegas with a thousand times more confidence than me. But that didn’t stop me from admiring them from my little table in the breakroom that overlooked the floor.

The building was nothing to scoff at. It was cavernous, with lavish velvet drapes lining the walls, and gleaming fixtures that cast golden pools on the kingdom below. The floor was busy with wealthy guests of all kinds who were milling at bars and casino tables, but in the centre was a massive stage, and Jade drew the eyes of the whole room as she began to dance.

This place was more than just a job to me; the High Roller was my home. Literally—since I lived in suite four beneath the club—but there was far more to it than that. The people here were the only family I had.

Tallow, the other bartender tonight, was covering for me—which delighted him, since one of his favourite packs was here, and lavishing him with all the attention he absolutely didn’t need.

He could keep the tips.

I needed caffeine.

I always settled here to watch the floor on my breaks, not just to admire the dancers, but I was proud of what they had claimed.

Something I never would.

The Omegas here were all breathtaking. With every movement it was as if I watched them reclaim something from this world—and so many of the women who worked here deserved that.

I couldn’t catch her scent from here, but by the state of the Alphas in the firing line (who were leaning forward and practically drooling on their shirts), she was wielding it with as much skill as her dance. That’s what the Omegas here were like: world-stoppingly beautiful and able to command a room full of Alphas with such authority that packs might step out of this club and be shocked to find there were other Omegas left on the planet.

But that wasn’t the part that made me envious—not that I would ever admit to that; it wasn’t a good look. I loved everyone who worked here, even if some of them kept their distance. I wasn’t good at showing people I liked them, never had been. I’d been trained to walk and talk like a mafia princess, as lonely as she was deadly. It was a protection I couldn’t shake, but sometimes that put people off.

But Jade… I could see it in her eyes. In her smile that lit in the brief seconds that the music lulled. I think she loved dancing as much as the Alphas loved to watch. I was so fucking proud of what she’d done for herself here. I knew, because she was a talk-out-loud kind, and would chat my ear off at the bar without the slightest concern that I’d never quite figured out how to act like friends were supposed to.

But that was the true secret to how she drew every eye—the reason it could never be me, no matter how long the club left the offer on the table. No matter if I sometimes came back to the room below after the doors shut. Even if I sat on the edge of the stage in the dark, staring up at vacant lights, empty casino tables, and shadows of huge drapes.

I would never have the confidence the others had.

“So. How did the date go?”

I contained my wince as a drink was set at the table beside me, ripping me ungracefully from my self-pity. I think it was the years of dancing that gave Leisha the uncanny ability to sneak up on people with such ease.

Shit.

“Date,” I said with a side eye, “Is a strong word.”

Her dirty blond hair was loose, long enough to frame both her pretty face and generous cleavage. She was unbelievable on the stage and she had a presence that made me think she was a female Alpha in another life. I might struggle to get close to people, but from the first time Leisha had smiled at me, I felt like she was the older sister I’d never had. It was impossible not to trust her.

She sipped on her drink, waiting quietly.

“It went well,” I lied, glancing down at my nails. They were mismatched, one painted with a muted lilac I had on hand instead of the silver I’d got at the salon. I’d patched it after it had snapped last night.

I’d arrived early to the restaurant.

The bustle of servers and fellow diners was nothing but white noise as I stared at the Alpha dressed in a smart suit three tables down. I hadn’t realised how hard I was clutching my handbag until a nail snapped against it.

I shook it off, focusing instead on the Alpha waiting for me—Kent Warner.

Except, when I’d walked up to the table, I’d panicked and hurried on by, dropping into this seat instead, grateful it wasn’t a reservations only kind of place.

What if he wanted to come home with me?

---