Page 7 of No Strings Attached
It doesn’t help that Warren Hart is sitting in his car a few feet away, blasted by delicious AC while he downs an iced coffee. His eyes blaze every time I move or flex, like the man’s trying to eat me. He’s definitely a powerful Alpha but the kind that I would avoid rather than respect.
“Elias!” The Beta calls out again before waving toward the ramp I’m supposed to take off up.
I fucking told them that I didn’t know how to ride a bike and that miraculously making a jump like that within the first hour or two of learning would be impossible. No one’s listening to me and it only frustrates me more that I haven’t been able to pick this up as fast as I do everything else.
Revving the engine, I focus on trying to drive forward a few feet again, my legs shaking as I swallow down my nerves. The bike stalls out and cuts off, the crew groaning as I just slump forward a little, defeated. Tristan isn’t having it, though, as per usual but, this time, I think it has more to do with the money he was paid. He slaps me across the back of the head, drawing a growl from me. “Focus, Elias! We don’t have all fucking day to get this right. It can’t be that hard.”
I would dare him to try any of the stunts I have done over the years. “I told you I couldn’t ride a fucking bike. There’s so many things we could do for this damn commercial, but this isn’t one of them.”
“You’re going to ride it, you damn Omega.” Before I can react, he pulls out a roll of black tape and starts wrapping it around my right hand, pinning it to the handlebar. My heart stops, fearspiking in my chest as the tape tightens, trapping me to these two death wheels.
When he pulls out a longer stretch of tape to start on my left hand, I don’t think. I swing first, my fist connecting with Tristan’s jaw. He stumbles back, the audible crack of my knuckles against bone making his brows furrow with anger.
Pain explodes through my hand as I shake out my fist, tears welling up in my eyes as I start scratching at the tape, trying to free myself. No one else moves as I start yanking my hand back, crying out when I can’t get free. That fear heightens, adrenaline mixing in with it before I tear my hand from the tape and scramble off the bike.
It flops over onto the ground, something popping off of it but that’s the least of my worries, my breaths kicking up as I glare at my boss. “Don’t you ever,everfucking trap me again like that,” I say, my voice shaking with rage.
Tristan straightens, his hand still on his face, blood trickling from his lip. He opens his mouth, but I shake my head, my fists clenched, every part of me warring with the urge to hit him again. “I’ll be at the damn gala this evening but don’t call me until then.” I start off toward the parking lot, Nander calling after me.
“Elias! Get back here!”
I turn to face him, Nander nearly running into my chest, the Alpha having to look up to meet my gaze. “I get that you all own my goddamn future in this business, but there’s a fine line drawn in the sand of what I am contracted to do and can fight back on, and I will not fucking die for my passion because you tell me to.”
The set quiets completely, a quick glance over at Warren Hart telling me that he’s more intrigued by my reaction rather than put off by it. I hate it. I hate all of this.
Without giving Nander a chance to throw more bullshit at me, I pull out my phone and call up a ride from the local service app,blindly typing in my destination. Not even five minutes later, I stuff myself into the car, shock starting to settle in from what Tristan almost had me do. With my hands taped to that bike, it would have been a disaster—most likely deadly, but I would have absolutely sustained injuries.
I don’t understand that man.
I don’t know why it’s so important for me to submit, to listen, to give him what he needs. Maybe it’s an Alpha thing, I have no fucking clue. All I know is that I can’t stop shaking, my hands throbbing from hitting Tristan and pulling away from the tape.
The driver catches my gaze in the rearview mirror. “You sure this is where you wanted to go?” he asks, his voice cautious. “Not to a hospital or something?”
I blink, my vision blurry, and look out the window. My stomach drops as I see the motel across from Cuppa Joe, the faded sign staring back at me. This is where I was supposed to meet Monroe_86, the couple from the app. I sigh, my head falling back against the seat, exhaustion pulling at me.
Why the hell did I give this address? I meant to go home, to my cabin, to crash and forget this whole day. “Yeah,” I mutter, not looking at him. “This is it.”
I climb out of the car, only then realizing I left my stuff at the last location. Tristan will retrieve it, for sure, and then find some reason to have to drop it off at my cabin and berate me for my attitude. That’s a problem for later.
Right now, I need to grab another ride but of course, my card declines. I curse under my breath and check my wallet, staring at the few crumpled 20s from my last paycheck. If I had been a town over, it would be enough for a taxi but they don’t come out this far.
Well, fuck.
My body is still buzzing with adrenaline, slowly morphing into shock as the driver leans out his window. “You sure you’reokay?” he calls. “I recognize you. My son watches your videos, and you don’t look all that good. I promise the world will still be there if you step back.”
I force a smile, the one I’ve used a thousand times for the rest of the world. It feels like a lie, but it’s all I’ve got. “Thanks. I’ll be fine.” But I’m not fine. I’m falling apart.
Still, without a way to get home other than walking, a few hours at the motel will give me enough energy. I just need a quick shower before I can pass out and then get home in time to change for the gala.
Stepping inside, I immediately notice how quaint the place is. It’s changed a bit since I last came here with someone from the app, soft greens making this place seem more like a bed and breakfast rather than a place to fuck for a few hours.
The lady at the front desk throws me a surprised look as I glance around, my attention falling on the Alpha lounging in an armchair across the room. He’s slim, dressed in a loose gray suit with white frills around his neck, like he walked out of some old old painting. His long blond hair’s pulled into a ponytail, his beard full and soft, and one leg’s crossed over the other, a casual but confident air flowing from him. Our eyes meet, and his hazel ones light up, a grin spreading across his face.
He pops up from the chair and crosses the lobby in a few quick strides. “I didn’t think you would show. Well, Olivia told me you would, but I… she’s upstairs.”
I open my mouth to explain the situation as he tugs me gently away from the counter, his hand light on my arm. Once we’re out of earshot from the front desk, his face shifts, turning to worry as he places a soft hand on my chest.
“Oh, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he says, his voice gentle, almost too kind. “We don’t have to do this, okay?”
