My Mafia Mate: Escaping the Alpha

Cassie POV

“Show me your tits!”

The creepy middle-aged guy shouted again at me as I swung around on the pole. He picked up a shot and downed it before he slammed the glass down on the table, running his hand over his shiny bald head.

I ignored him, like I always did. The more wasted Gerald was, the more he'd shout and the quicker he'd get kicked out.

“Come on, sexy! I came to see your tits!” He shouted again, and I hid a smile when I watched Ms. Ho summon the bouncer.

Cue the shouting in three, two, one.

I flipped upside-down into the “Russian Layback” pose and held it as Gerald started shouting about the lack of flesh in the club.

“Third time this week. I don't know how many times the guy has to be told that he's got the wrong place,” Glitter said as she passed my podium with a tray of drinks for a corner table.

She was right about that. What he was needing was a hooker, not a stripper - especially not a stripper in a bikini bar where flesh was served tastily clad in barely there lingerie.

I flipped back over and landed in the splits, pouting provocatively as one of my regulars put $50 on the podium and winked at me. I blew him a kiss and picked up the money, bending over so he could watch me tuck it into my bejewelled bra.

He'd most likely jerk off thinking about me later, but he wouldn't be the first so what did I care? His tip just helped me pay my rent.

I slid off the podium, swinging my hips as I walked between the tables and smiled at the few patrons as I made my way to the change rooms.

“Hey, Crystal!” One of the other dancers called to me, using my stage name, as I sat down at the dressing table. “Your phone has been ringing non stop. I think someone is desperate to talk to you.”

I thanked her and grabbed my phone, seeing the twenty six missed calls from my best friend, Eliana.

“I'll call you back as soon as I can,” I said to the phone as I set it back down.

I was late for my weekly check in with her and she would probably be stressing. Motherhood had made her worry for nothing. It had been three years since I'd left my old life behind, running away from my past, my family and the man I'd been forced to marry. Only two people in the world knew that I'd gone to New York - my two best friends from university. The rest… well… fuck the rest.

Ms. Ho walked into the changing room as I was pulling on my black tank top, concern shining in her almond shaped eyes.

“That rude man is outside. He's waiting by the cars, drinking tequila straight from the bottle,” she started removing the clip-in blonde and pink extensions from my dyed black hair, her frown lost amongst the wrinkles on her face. “I asked security to chase him, but I don't think you should leave yet.”

I patted her weathered hand gently as she lay my extensions on the dressing table. She was like a mother to all the girls who worked for her - we all came into her strip club lost, without hope, and she made sure we got back onto our feet.

“I've got to, Ms. Ho. My shift at the nightclub starts in half an hour,” I smiled and shoved my sparkly outfit into my backpack along with my makeup.

“Let one of the boys walk you out, then,” she insisted, and I nodded at her suggestion.

It was probably a better idea than being attacked by a drunk.

Ms. Ho waved one of her grandsons over and, after a rapid spate of mandarin, the man bowed to her and took my bag from me, leading the way to my motorbike.

“I'll watch until you've driven off,” he mumbled, not very impressed that he had been taken away from his hobby of watching other men get hard-ons.

Thanking him, I put on my leather jacket and helmet before I took my backpack and threw it on. Mounting the motorbike, I revved a few times before I roared out of the parking lot, no sign of the creepy drunk in sight.

The city was chaotic, and dirty, and I hated it. It was worlds away from my hometown, the quiet Greek village in the middle of nowhere, where everyone knew everyone, and their whole lives’ stories. It was a great place to live - well, for the most part. The fact was that, no matter how much I tried to fit in, I would always be the outsider.

Hybrids always were.

You see, my dad is a werewolf who made a stupid, drunken decision and screwed a human woman who he had met at some bar. Nine months later, I was born… and quickly dumped on the doorstep of the packhouse.

No human would want to raise a halfbreed like me, so I didn't really blame the woman. Hybrids were unpredictable in their genetics - either mostly human or mostly werewolf. I liked to say that I was the best of both worlds, the heightened senses and improved immune system minus a crazy wolf hanging out in my head. Either way, I grew up as the only hybrid in the pack and was seen as a complete and utter freak.

The fact that my dad was actually the Beta of the pack and therefore basically second in command didn't help things. If anything, it made the other kids even more scared to talk to me. My only friend had been Alpha Dimitri Kythira's only son - and even that had dissolved like ice in a volcano when he turned eighteen. I was just fourteen at the time, and his abandonment had been my first and most lasting heartbreak.

“Move it!” some dickhead taxi driver shouted at an elderly woman as she crossed the street, pulling me from my thoughts. I had to remind myself why I'd even come to this hell-hole.

“It's harder to find you in a big city, Cass. So toughen up,” I told myself, holding my middle finger up to the taxi driver as I positioned my bike in front of the taxi and smiled encouragingly to the woman.

He hooted, shouting obscenities out of his window while I ignored him, moving only when the woman was safely on the other side of the road. Then, with a triumphant grin at the prick-driver, I weaved between the cars until I parked outside of Poison Nightclub in the gated staff parking.

“You're late, Cassie,” One of the bouncers, Greg, called to me as he carried a keg toward the bar.

“I know, I know,” I called back, heading straight to the staff bathrooms to change into the black minidress which was the general uniform for the women working at the club.

“The Boss has an announcement before we open so move your ass,” Greg returned without giving me a second glance.

I dressed quickly, rushing to join the rest of the staff who stood in a circle around Mr. Maretti - aka The Boss. He was just the manager, but we had never met the real owner and everyone just followed The Boss's orders.

“As you may know, the owner has been approached by someone wanting to buy this club. The man will be visiting this evening, so I want things to run smoothly. You hear me?” The Boss ordered in his raspy New Jersey accent.

There were echoes of “yes Boss” before we all went to our separate stations.

“I saw The Boss chatting to the potential buyer yesterday,” Jessie told me as we checked our side of the bar. “The guy is fucking hot!”

I giggled, tying my long black hair into a high ponytail. “You have pretty low standards when it comes to guys, Jess,” I teased.

She stuck her tongue out at me and I laughed.

“I'll point him out to you if I see him when he comes in, but I swear he's a ten on the hot-o-metre,” she swore, her big blue eyes widening as she spoke. “Maybe even an eleven. He looks like a golden god, I swear.”

I didn't say anything more, merely nodding as the DJ put on the opening music and Greg opened the doors to let the first group of patrons in.

By midnight, the place was packed, a mass of writhing bodies on the dance floor, drinking and dancing their troubles from the week away. Jessie, myself and two other bartenders were serving the waves of people crowding around the bar, not daring to take a break in the chaos - just the usual situation every Friday night.

I'd just passed a tispy patron her drinks when I felt his eyes on me. A tingle ran down my spine and I knew without looking up that I'd been found.

Vasilios Kythira had found me.