The Princess & Her Alphaholes by Renee O’Roark

Chapter Three

Fallen Stars

Joely

I can’t believe what’s happening to me.

That’s the thought that keeps playing in my mind like a broken record as I get escorted out of the building.

To add insult to injury, I’m manhandled out of the rear entrance to the building, where the emergency exit to the theater, that we share with a record label, is located.

While the front of our building is all glass and modern glamour, the back is a narrow alley with fire escapes and a couple of dumpsters.

It looks as desolate as I feel right now; last night I felt like I had the world at my feet, this morning I’ve lost everything.

Literally everything, because all I have are the clothes on my back and my duffel bag with some extra dance clothes to get me through the day.

Oh, and Don’s hoodie.

New tears start pushing their way out of my eyes, as hot and bitter as the ones I hate myself for shedding in that fucking meeting.

My eyes already feel swollen and sore from all the crying but I can’t help it. I don’t know what hurts more, the fact that Don lied to me about our relationship, or the way he wouldn’t even meet my eyes and try to explain or apologize, too concerned about saving his own ass.

I’d never have gotten involved with someone who was dating another woman and I hate Don all the more for making me “the other woman.”

To be fair, I can’t really blame Daniela for having me kicked out of school if she thought that I knew that we were cheating on her even though she began sleeping with Don when she was still married.

So I doubt that reaching out to her to explain my position would do any good right now.

Especially because I bet that Don must’ve spun the story in a way that makes me look as guilty as he is in all this.

Hot, burning rage surges through me and I struggle out of Don’s hoodie. I don’t want anything to remind me of him, I think as I drop the hoodie on the floor, feeling sorry for myself.

I look at the cracked cement that paves the street, letting my tears flow freely and regretting everything I’ve ever done; from getting into ballet to please a parent that’s impossible to please, to falling in love with someone who didn’t deserve me and exploited me all the way to this bitter end.

I’m so lost in my own misery that I don’t even notice the two men who approach me and stand so close to me that I’m backed up against the brick wall of the building that up to ten minutes ago was the key to my future.

“Give us all your money, bitch!”

I lift my gaze and I know immediately that this is bad as soon as I notice their dirty clothes, wiry but strong builds and especially the vacuous look in their eyes.

It’s as if they have no irises, their gazes not focusing on anything, not even on their prey.

They look like drug addicts in search of money to score their next fix.

I know that any attempt to reason with them is useless but I tell them that I have no cash on me anyway, hoping that they’ll move on and look for a better target. But I should have known that this day could only become shittier than it began.

I see a flash of metal as the shortest of the two men takes a knife out of his pocket and points it at my neck, the contact with the cold metal making me shiver.

“That was the wrong answer. Bob, search her!”

These two must be already high as kites if they think I could be hiding any money in a skin tight leotard, but the tallest of the two guys steps closer and starts dragging his hands down my body.

His acrid stench of stale sweat and alcohol invades my nostrils and I flatten my back against the wall, trying to put some distance between us.

The probing hands skim all the way past my hips when Bob finally realizes that I really have no cash on me.

“She has nothing, Brad.”

The knife presses harder against my skin.

“You fucking useless piece of shit! You’ll pay with your life for having no money!”

And when I see the dead look in his gaze, I know that he means it. That this is it and I won’t get out of this alleyway alive.

I close my eyes and the scariest part of it all is that while I’m terrified, I’m also partially relieved that this is over.

That I won’t have to worry about how to rebuild the pile of smoking rubble that my life has just become and that I won’t have to face my mother and hear her say, “I told you so.”

But the pain never comes and I’m suddenly able to move again.

I hear my savior before I see him, he has a deep, almost sumptuous voice but it isn’t a smooth voice, there’s a husky, almost gritty finish to his drawl.

“What the fuck is going on here? Let the girl go!”

I open my eyes and I see the tall, dark angel that grabs Bob and shoves him to the side, focusing his gaze on the skinny guy with the knife, Brad, I think.

My attacker stumbles backward probably realizing that the odds of this fight have suddenly turned against him as my black leather clad savior takes another menacing step toward him.

My two attackers disappear as quickly as they materialized and once my adrenaline ridden mind realizes that the immediate danger is gone, my body refuses to support me and I collapse onto the cracked cement of the alleyway, wracked by tears and unstoppable tremors as I’m drenched in cold sweat.

Two strong arms lift me back up on my feet and I find myself staring back into the purest ice blue color I’ve ever seen.

The guy who just saved my life is the owner of a stunning pair of blue eyes, so light that they’re almost crystal clear.

He has high cheekbones, a perfect square jaw and a faux-hawk of raven black hair that fall defiantly on one side of his forehead.

He’s at least six foot four and has a strong, muscular body.

I can make out the outline of his six pack through the white t-shirt that’s the only splash of brightness in his otherwise totally black outfit.

He’s wearing a leather jacket and pants and black biker boots.

A silver hoop ring shines on one of his eyebrows and he’s wearing an assortment of mixed jewelry in both metal and leather.

“Hey, are you ok?”

His dark, gritty voice has a strange soothing effect on me and I shake my head, trying to close the floodgates that the worst morning of my life seems to have opened.

He looks concerned as he supports my weight with a strong arm, helping me back onto my feet and he ushers me back into the building I was evicted from a mere half an hour ago.

I follow without arguing and I blame the stress for the fact that rather than answering his questions, I keep looking at him, thinking that this tall, dark, kind stranger has something vaguely familiar about him.

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