MATED TO THE PENTHOUSE ALPHA KING

This is the twelfth time or more that I have been pacing in front of the elevator, holding a white envelope, while trying to muster up the courage to do the needful.

Why do I always have to pay for these fool's inability to control their dicks? This is the third job that I was sacked from this year alone.

Is it a crime to be beautiful and also curved in the right places?

I can't afford to be fired again. What would happen to my plans of going back to college?

Someone should pay for this, but it definitely won't be me.

"I won't stand for it anymore," I blurted out, and I punched the elevator button a little too hard like I was stabbing it. With my gloved hands, I tried calming my nerves when the door dinged and swished open.

"This is it," I reminded myself, to either back down now or remain silent forever.

I slipped in, and the door closed right back. I was still holding the stupid sack letter Mark gave me this morning.

I had always seen him as a professional kind of guy; little did I know that he was a low-life swine.

I should give you a little backstory.

My name is Anabella Stone, an orphan. I never got to meet my father before he died, but I heard he was the Alpha of a Pack. My mom, Kristina Stone, died a few years after I graduated high school. I have been fending for myself ever since.

I have a stepmother and siblings somewhere, according to my mom, but I don't know them either. She said she fled the pack with me when people began seeking to kill me, and we have been hiding out among the humans ever since.

I didn't find it odd that people would want to kill me; everyone here called me a freak, as I normally get visions when I touch someone or when I get touched; hence, I cover myself pretty well.

Anyway, Mom never told me why people would be after me or who they were; she only made me promise her to always wear wigs and contacts when I want to go out to cover my white hair and purple eyes color, and I understood her because if someone was really after me, then I would be spotted easily.

I guess this made me take on jobs that hide me pretty well. until I was sacked a few minutes ago, I worked as the sleep concierge at the Venus Hotels, owned by Mr Reed. I helped troubled guests sleep better. I had a blast working at the hotel, the fat paycheck, and the little perks of talking and being gifted by our wealthy customers until I turned down my direct supervisor's advances towards me.

He threatened a couple of times to sack me if I didn't have sex with him. I thought he wouldn't have the balls to go through with it until