The Arrangement (Omegas of Hunter's Point Book 1)

Chapter 4

Von was already regretting having agreed to go out. She tugged at the dress for the third time in as many minutes. It was as if she'd been swallowed by a snake and was slowly strangling in its belly. How the hells did Fancy wear this stuff without suffocating? She smoothed down the shimmery pink material. Despite it being at least two sizes too small, Fancy had insisted. She'd taken one look at the skirt and blouse combo Von had intended to wear and had immediately refused to let her leave the house looking like she'd just come from an especially dowdy funeral.

She allowed Fancy to sit her down in the bathroom and fuss with her hair and make-up, only requesting that Fancy go easy on both. She'd doused herself maybe a bit too liberally in Fancy's favorite perfume, but when it came to hiding her scent, overkill trumped underkill.

Rule #3.

She'd borrowed a sparkly pair of starburst earrings of pink rhinestone but couldn't fit her feet into the vampy red heels Fancy had given her. Instead, Von had settled on a pair of black heels that she had purchased to attend, ironically, a funeral. They were pinching the holy hells out of her toes by the time they'd exited the Metro station across from the club.

Outside the relatively nondescript gray façade was a hot pink neon sign, which, in elegant script spelled N-V. Whoever named this place must have been a pretentious a-hole. That didn't seem to dint its popularity, though. A line of people at least four deep stretched from the front door to disappear around the side of the building. The idea of standing in that line in heels for most of the night was not at all an attractive one.

"Fancy, look at that line! We'll never get in!"

Fancy reached back to grab Von's hand. "Oh, ye of little faith! The gods are on our side. Think positive!"

To Von's surprise, they were passing right by the line and heading straight for the door, where the bouncer waited.

The guy was all alpha, massive and musclebound. His shirt was almost as tight as Von's dress and outlined bulging pectorals and biceps that looked fit enough to tear a vehicle in half. Holding a sausage-like finger to his headset, he paused when Fancy came to a stop at the rope, Von trailing in her wake. He looked down at Fancy, obvious approval etched into the chiseled marble of his face. Then, his attention fell to Von, and a subtle crease appeared between his sculpted brows.

There's no way he's going to let us in, Von thought. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"Heya, Stan," Fancy cooed.

The man-mountain offered a restrained, close-lipped smile. "Heya, Fancy. I didn't think you were ever gonna show. Who's this?"

"Stan, this is my roommate, Von. Von, this is Stan."

Ah, that explained it. This guy was another of Fancy's conquests. She wondered just how long this one had been going on, or how much longer it would last. Von offered up a timid wave.

Stan gave her a curt nod in return, unhooked the velvet rope, and stood to the side. "See you for lunch tomorrow, Fancy?" he asked.

"You know it, handsome." She stood on her tip toes to give him a kiss, then bounced through the door into din-laden semi-darkness, dragging Von like a mother with a reluctant toddler.

The place was packed, the collective body heat of so many people crammed into a confined space making the atmosphere overly warm and mildly humid. Couples and groups crowded tables and booths, drinking and talking, as music thudding with bass worked to drown them out.

Von's first impression was that the person responsible for N-V's interior design would not be seeing the Havens when he died. Recessed, multicolored lights reflected off far too much glass and polished steel, centered on a dance floor that lit up in pastel shades beneath undulating bodies. It was half industrial loft space and half kitsch nostalgia, neither having been executed particularly well.