The Alpha's Good Girl

Valeria Whitemore was many things but tonight she was a pole dancing maniac. Bright neon lights pulsed through her sliver mask. The feel of the cold pole on her fingertips ignited her brain cells into action.

Her red bottoms dragged slowly across the stage and music coursed through her veins as she launched into the air.

She struck an Ayesha pose mid-spin, then twisted into a flawless hand-free Ayesha, fierce and hypnotic. The crowd erupted in cheers and cocky whistling.

The show was on and the game was simple. Get the red-haired demon down from the pole with the highest bid.

Men were scrambling like animals for her attention but Valeria's eyes were locked on one. Her target for tonight. He was the reason she was suspended in an extended butterfly pose, eyes unwaveringly fixed on the suited man across from her.

Every turn, every movement of her body was calculated, the sparkly sliver of her costume gleaming under the lights, complimenting her red lipstick and black leather thigh accessory.

Dollar bills rained down on the stage, some in neatly packed bundles, others thrown carelessly by the men desperate for a piece of the show. But Valeria wasn't distracted. She had a mission and she wasn't backing down until it was complete. Every move she made screamed sensuality, exciting the dormant desire in every pair of eyes locked on her, undeniably blinding the gawking audience.

She twisted and spun with sharp steady cuts that oozed sex appeal. Her slow breaths and flawless skin gleamed under the lights, casting an ethereal glow.

It was clear her target was feeling the heat too and it wasn't because he hadn't blinked since she started dancing. That was a bonus.

Instead, it was the way his Adam's apple bobbed hungrily, the way his gaze roamed her body like a feast, and the way his muscles tensed underneath his tailored suit.

A satisfied smirk curled on Valeria's lips as the song reached its climax, her body flipping into a jade split.

The bid surged immediately, and so did the desire of a hungry man.

Her eyes flickered as she witnessed him rise to his feet with a suitcase. No doubt filled with stacks of dollar bundles.

The shouting increased the moment he started walking forward but Valeria couldn't be bothered. With every step he took, she recited her mission like a mantra.

"Domenico Caravelli. Married. Thirty-nine years old. Freaking billionaire."

His footsteps echoed as he approached the stage, his suit crisp and tailored to perfection. She lifted herself higher on the pole, a defiant gesture signaling she wouldn't make it easy.

The crowd erupted again, whistles and cheers reaching a fever pitch from stimulated men with money and no shame. But they weren't cheering for her, they were cheering for him and that fueled his ego.

"Crimes: Human trafficking, money laundering, sex offender, murder."

As Domenico reached the stage, Valeria's siren-blue eyes locked with his dark ones, and the tension between them crackled. Her lips parted slightly and she whispered,

"Mission: Assassination."

Domenico opened the suitcase he carried and slid it open on the stage, as expected of a man willing to spend a fortune fulfilling his darkest fantasies. It was packed, each dollar bill a symbol of his twisted fetish.

Valeria came down with a back arch slide, coiling spirally as she descended and the cheers reached a crescendo.

They didn't give a damn about her. The applause was for Domenico, a reward for his ego. Valeria cursed under her breath but her face held no subtitles.

Her smile was seduction enough, she was no soft beauty. She was a force of provocation. A being made to ignite sin itself. Gleaming blue eyes, a face carved for killing, and a body every man dreamed of.

The smirk on her lips stretched wider as she slid down to his level, leaning forward to grasp his chin in a show of power but before she could complete her motion, Domenico grabbed her hand. Valeria's eyes flashed for a second as he pressed her palm against his face, savoring her scent like a Dog.

Her eyes darkened but she kept her poise. It wouldn't be long now anyway so she smiled back hiding the cold glint lurking behind her eyes.

She didn't flinch as he pulled her towards his chambers as a trophy for his bed.

His blood-red-lit room was filled with ominous items. Handcuffs, whips, chains. It was all part of his depraved act but her mind was fixed on the mission.

The door shut behind her but she didn't turn.

"Why are you still in your clothes? Lose them. Now." His voice, cold and demanding.

Her teeth clenched so hard they might break, arrogant pieces of shit like these made her blood boil.

Slowly she turned around, he had the same perverted smirk plastered on his face like a second skin.

That darn expression.

It was the same for all men. The look that says she's nothing more than a conquest. A fleeting boost for their ego and a sense of amusement.

"I knew you were feisty from the moment I saw you. I'm glad I wasn't wrong..." He took closing steps "...I also enjoy ripping the clothes off my prey."

His tone turned menace as he took approaching steps while his tongue danced around his dry lips like a predator. His hand reached for her throat but before he could tighten his grip, Valeria moved faster than a demon, she pulled a knife from her thigh holster and slashed it across his throat in one fluid motion.

Blood splattered across her face, warm and sticky as a wet, gurgled scream tore from his throat. Thick like air strangling through blood and finally a sickening sound as he collapsed face down in a crimson pool.

"Piece of shit."

She finally spoke but he didn't get to hear it. His eyes, wide, frozen, stared at her like every ghost she ever left behind. An addition to her nightmares.

Her red bottom heels stepped over his body and walked into the night but not before cleaning her tracks. She pressed her watch.

"Mission accomplished."

A voice replied,

"I didn't expect anything less. Report to HQ, we'll take it from here."

Valeria swallowed a hard lump and pressed her watch.

The ride to headquarters was ear-deafening silent until she spoke.

"Why didn't Derek drive me tonight?"

The guy behind the wheel with a stern face and the body build of a boxer replied tersely "I was assigned to you tonight."

Her lips twitched with annoyance. Derek was avoiding her, ever since he found out she was leaving the agency in a few days, he's been acting strange but fuck! This time it stung.

Usually after an escapade like this, Derek would take her to cloud nine for her hard work or maybe it was a way to release himself from watching her dance. Either way, it was a win for her but now he didn't show up and she was seething with an arousal that wouldn't be quenched.

"Get down."

She glanced at the new driver, wondering why he was being such an ass when all he had to do was drive her but she didn't argue. Not tonight, not when she would finally be free of this messy life.

Her hands coiled around the handle and he suddenly handed her a napkin. She halted.

"Clean yourself up before meeting Big Boss." He commanded.

Her gaze trailed from the handkerchief to his stoic face and she muttered.

"Go fuck yourself." Her words ended with the door slamming against his 'kind gesture'. She was sick of being treated like an object, a property.

She sashayed toward the entrance, hopefully he was staring at the way her hips swung mockingly without caution.

Inside the office, the familiar place she wished to forget and where it all started. The very place where she sold her soul to the devil. Or was it by the side of the road where Big Boss first picked her?

History lessons didn't matter now.

The high-rise gave a vast view of the city, the shit town where sex, blood, and guns intertwined like a bad song. But up here, it was beautiful. The lights shimmered like a thousand fireflies, though Valeria couldn't give a damn about city scenery. Her life was on the line here. One word from the Big Boss could either make or break her.

He turned in his chair, his eyes latching onto her for a split second before lowering his gaze to her file.

Valeria's body tensed. There was something about his gaze brief but paralyzing. Electrifying enough to rock her, even now. She waited, eyes glued to his brown hair, trailing slowly to his exotic features. The only good thing about stepping into his office was looking at his face, it never gets old. She didn't know much about him aside from that. He was criminally a closed book with no past and no present.

A ghost.

"Valeria Whitemore." She flinched slightly when he said her name, but his magnetic voice kept going, "Twenty-two years old. Top A-rank. Weakness... alcohol." He glanced up at her before continuing.

"Joined at sixteen..."

"Joined?" Her brow arched. He looked up, adjusting his glasses, those darn glasses that made him seem like a professor when he had the looks of a predator.

"I was recruited." She cut in, her tone sharper now. "By you."

Even through his glasses, she could feel the heat of his stare burning through her. There was always an unspoken tension she couldn't name. Then again, she was probably thinking with her legs since Derek decided to bail on her.

"My bad," He said flatly, though there was an invisible smirk tugging at his lips. It was as if he sought to remind her. He knew exactly what he was doing. But Valeria didn't bite. Not now.

"I see... your five years expire in a few days. Would you like to renew your contract?"

His voice was smooth. But his next words were a blade. "Think carefully."

Valeria gulped. Her mind wandered to her little brother for a hot minute, to the freedom she'd been clawing toward.

"I will not be renewing my contract."

Something flickered in his eyes then. Something dark but maybe it was just the moonlight's reflection. She couldn't be sure.

Still, she waited. Her beart thudding once, twice but he hadn't spoken yet.

Would he stop her? Would he punish her? Her palms turned sweaty from anxiety, then he spoke.

"The contract terms will be followed. Tomorrow you go on your last mission."

Valeria released a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"I'll read the file." He went on, "Cesare Damiano. Billionaire. Mafia Don. Extremely dangerous. Code Red. Every agent's nightmare...your redemption."

Her pulse spiked. Was it from relief or dread? Her brain couldn't decipher, but one thing was clear, the light at the end of the tunnel had never looked brighter.

Freedom was within reach.

Her pulse palpitated as she asked. "And the mission?"

His eyes twinkled.

"Assassination."