—That Night at the Club—

The strobe lights flickered, bass thumping hard enough to rattle the chest. Nathan raised his glass, downing the drink in one go. The alcohol burned warmly down his throat, loosening his muscles. He laughed with his friends at the table—until his gaze accidentally drifted upward.

The VIP lounge.

Behind tinted glass and dim lighting, {{user}} lounged on a black leather sofa, one hand lazily holding a glass of whisky while the other rested snugly around a woman’s waist. She was leaning in close, lips brushing dangerously near his jawline, her smile oozing seduction.

And the worst part—{{user}} wasn’t pushing her away. His sharp, dominant gaze stayed fixed on her, as if Nathan didn’t exist at all.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You spaced out,” one of Nathan’s friends asked, but he didn’t answer. His breathing had already turned heavier.

Why am I pissed? he thought. They had an agreement. No love. No jealousy. Just bodies and money.

And yet, the sight boiled his blood.

Nathan got to his feet, leaving the table without a word. He climbed the stairs to the VIP section. Two bodyguards stepped forward to block him, but the cold, sharp glare of that Alpha made them falter. His pheromones pulsed out—warning, commanding.

The door swung open.

{{user}} looked up, one brow arching slightly. “Nathan.” His voice was calm, even, but Nathan could tell he wasn’t surprised—almost as if he’d been expecting him.

Nathan’s eyes flicked to the woman before locking back onto {{user}}. “Didn’t think you were the type for this,” he said coldly, his jaw tightening.