Alpha Oliver's POV
What the hell was she doing here?
She was supposed to be at the bar stand on the main floor. Instead, she was standing at the entrance of the Playroom in a white, frilly dress that exposed far too much of her smooth thighs.
Her eyes locked onto mine, widening in a flicker of shock before they drifted down to the blonde submissive clinging to my arm. For a split second, her frown deepened—a flash of pure annoyance—but she quickly masked it with cold professionalism.
"Welcome," she said, her voice tight. "Please, have your seat."
The words "It's not what you think" nearly clawed their way out of my throat. I wanted to tell her that the submissive was just keeping me company, nothing more. But I caught myself, my own jaw tightening into a frown.
Why was I suddenly acting like we were an item? Why did I feel the need to justify myself to a woman who clearly didn't want me?
