CHAPTER 74: DIDN’T REQUEST THIS

Eleanor’s POV

The bass thrummed right through the floor and up my spine, a relentless beat that matched my racing heart. I sat stiffly between Mira and Roxy at a table, feeling like a neon sign in the dim, pulsing club.

Mira had, of course, made sure I stood out. The "underwire draped mini dress" she’d forced me into was red in color, and I was desperately trying to pull the hem down, convinced it was riding up to an indecent level.

"The dress is great, Mira, really," I said, my voice straining to be heard over the music. "It’s just... a bit short."

Mira rolled her eyes, leaning in so I could hear her. "Eleanor, if your dress is really short, what do you call what other women are wearing here?"

I reluctantly dragged my gaze from our table. All around us, women were laughing, dancing, and drinking, their outfits leaving very little to the imagination.

Sequins, lace, and skin were the dominant themes. Compared to the woman at the next table whose dress was essentially a belt, my red mini dress was practically a ball gown.

She’s right, you know, Beatrice chimed in, her voice a smug purr in my head. You’re just sensitive because you haven’t worn anything shorter than a floor-length skirt in forever.

I sighed, knowing she was right. I felt exposed and hyper-aware of every inch of my skin.

A server approached our table, pulling me from my thoughts. He was one of the dancers, glistening under the club lights with a physique that looked carved from marble. He offered us a dazzling, professional smile. "What can I get for you lovely ladies tonight?"

"Vodka cranberry for me," Mira said without hesitation.

All eyes turned to me. "Um, just a soda water with lime, please," I said.

The collective look Mira and Roxy gave me could have curdled milk.

"She’ll have a glass of the house white," Mira told the server firmly.

"And I’ll take a vodka soda," Roxy added.

The server smiled, nodded, and melted back into the crowd. As soon as he was gone, Mira turned her full attention back to me. "You need to relax. By now, I guarantee you the triplets know you’re here."

A fresh wave of nerves, entirely separate from my dress anxiety, washed over me. The club was one thing, but the thought of the triplets’ reaction was a whole other level of terror. My palms felt clammy.

Would they be angry? Of course, they would. But how angry? They wouldn’t... physically harm me, right? They were powerful, ruthless men. I tried to push the thoughts away, clinging to the slim hope that the rumors were just that—rumors. But the knot in my stomach tightened. This might have been a very, very bad idea.

I can’t back out now. The thought was a frantic drumbeat in my head, matching the club’s bass. I looked down as my phone lit up and vibrated on the table before going dark again. I’d put it on Do Not Disturb, but I didn’t need to see the screen to know who was calling. It was them.

The plan was simple. They would come here, see me, be disgusted, drag me out, and finally accept my rejection. Piece of cake, right?

No. This was a stupid, terrifying idea. But it was the only one I had.

The glistening waiter returned with our drinks, but he placed an extra cocktail in front of me—something bright pink with a tiny umbrella.

"We didn’t order that," Mira said, her voice sharp.

The waiter gave a slick smile. "That one is from the gentleman over there," he said, nodding towards a group near the main stage. "For the gorgeous woman in red. He’s very interested in giving her a private show later." He gestured, and we all looked.

A muscular stripper, currently gyrating for another table, caught our eye. He looked directly at me, gave a slow, deliberate wink, and then turned back to his current audience.

My face burned. I immediately looked down at the table, my entire body screaming with embarrassment. I grabbed Mira’s arm under the table, my grip desperate.

I bet my face was giving "I don’t want to be here. I want to disappear." This was a situation so far outside my experience I felt completely paralyzed.

Mira smoothly plucked the pink cocktail from in front of me and handed it back to the waiter. "The gesture is nice, but we’ll have to refuse."

The waiter frowned slightly but took the drink and left. I sagged with relief, my shoulders dropping from my ears.

"Thanks," I mumbled, finally picking up my own glass of wine. I took a small, nervous sip while Mira and Roxy started drinking theirs with more enthusiasm.

They soon got distracted, leaning their heads together and whispering, their eyes scanning the room. I caught snippets of their conversation—something about "measuring" the dancers and debating sizes in their tiny stripper shorts. I focused very hard on my drink, wishing I could sink into the floor.

Suddenly, a wave of excited screams erupted from a group of women behind us. "They’re coming today!" one shrieked.

"Finally! I’ve been coming every night hoping to see them again!" another replied, her voice shrill with anticipation.

Mira turned around, annoyed. "What’s going on? What’s making you all want to bring the building down?"

One of the women looked at Mira like she was stupid. "Don’t you know? The special VIP strippers are performing tonight!" Her eyes then landed on me, and they widened in recognition. "Hey! I know you!"

My heart skipped a beat. Know me from where?

"You’re the one!" the woman continued, pointing a finger. "You’re so lucky! You’re the only one those VIP strippers have ever danced for! What was it like? Tell us!"

The other women with her crowded closer, their voices a chorus of jealous coos. "Oh my god, it’s her!" "I’m so jealous!"

My face was on fire. Those strippers... the ones who danced on me... they were coming?

Mira asked. "So, are they performing tonight?"

The woman’s face fell. "No, we heard they only accept private sessions now. But I have been booking! I hope they accept mine one day."

A wave of disappointment washed over me so strongly it startled me. So, I wasn’t going to see them. The thought was a letdown, a hollow feeling in my stomach that made no sense.

Then Mira said exactly what was in my head. "What a shame they aren’t going to show themselves tonight, then."

Those masked men... they had made my body feel things I’d never felt before, a thrilling, terrifying heat. A secret part of me had maybe, just maybe, wanted to experience that again.

What the heck is wrong with me? I shouldn’t be thinking like this. I have three fated mates. Doesn’t this sound like I’m cheating on them?

But... I’m not. I’m not in any relationship with the triplets. They don’t even want me. So... I’m free to think this way. Right? The thought felt both liberating and...wrong.

Before I could untangle my own messy feelings, a group of male strippers approached our table. My stomach dropped when I recognized the leader—the same one who had sent the pink cocktail, his slick smile now looking far more predatory.

"What are you doing here?" Mira demanded, her voice sharp.

But his eyes were locked on me. "I know how nervous you are, sweetheart," he said, his voice a low purr meant only for me. "That’s why I’m taking the first step. Just like you requested."

Requested? My blood ran cold. "I didn’t—"

I didn’t get to finish. In one swift movement, he scooped me out of my chair. I was frozen stiff, a statue of pure shock.

"Hey! Put her down! We didn’t request this!" Roxy shouted, stepping forward.

But two other strippers immediately moved to block her and Mira’s path. "Relax, ladies," one of them said, holding his hands up. "She paid for the full experience."

Paid? The word finally jolted me out of my stupor just as the man deposited me onto a long, velvet-covered bench near the stage.

"Relax," he crooned, his hands on my shoulders, holding me in place. "I know you want this. You wouldn’t have paid such a huge amount of money for this session if you didn’t want a little thrill."

Panic clawed its way up my throat. "No! You have the wrong person! I don’t know what you’re talking about!" I insisted, my voice trembling. I tried to push his hands away, but his grip was like iron.

I couldn’t breathe. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of my chest. The man’s hands were still on my shoulders, pinning me to the velvet bench, and no matter how much I squirmed or pushed, he didn’t budge.

"No, stop! This is a misunderstanding!" I cried, my voice shaking. "I didn’t pay for this! I swear, I didn’t!"

But he just smiled and leaned in closer. "Oh, come on, sweetheart. You’re telling me you don’t like this? Really?"

His breath was hot against my ear, and I shuddered, disgust rolling through me. I tried to stand up, to get away from him, but he pushed me back down with a force that made my stomach drop.

"Stop!" I shouted though the loud music made it seem i didn’t. "Get away from me! I’ll report you for harassment!"

He laughed. "You won’t do that," he said, his voice dripping with confidence. "I’m just here to fulfill your fantasy. The one you requested."

My hands balled into fists, anger bubbling up inside me. How dare he? How dare he ignore me, dismiss me, act like I was just some toy for him to play with?

Beatrice, my wolf, growled deep within me, her rage mirroring mine. I was ready to punch him, to make him regret ever laying a hand on me.

But before I could move, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back. I gasped, pain shooting through my scalp as he leaned in and started licking my neck. Bile rose in my throat, and I thrashed against him, trying to pull away, but his grip was unrelenting.

"Get the fuck off me!" I screamed, my voice raw with fury. "I’m serious! I’ll—"

Suddenly, he was gone.

One moment, he was on top of me, his hands in my hair, his mouth on my skin. The next, he was being yanked away with such force that he stumbled and fell to the floor.

I blinked, my chest heaving, and looked up to see who had intervened.

And then I froze.

It was them. The three male strippers with their masks and blonde hair. They stood there, their bodies tense, their eyes locked on me. But they weren’t looking at me with concern or relief. No, their expressions were hard, their eyes burning with something that made my stomach twist.

Anger.

They were angry...at me?