Chapter 5
Presley
The next morning, nausea hit me the moment the elevator doors opened on the thirty-fifth floor.
I was gripping my backpack so hard my knuckles were white.
Inside it, nestled next to my meager belongings, was the turkey baster. I spent ten minutes this morning wrapping a pink silk ribbon around the handle and even tied a bow.
Professionalism, Presley. Presentation is everything.
Three men stood and watched me stroll into the space. Each was gorgeous in his own way. But it wasn’t the way they looked that made the air feel electric, it was a scent.
It was thick and intoxicating. They all smelled of rain, that electric charge before a storm breaks. One of them had the scent of leather, another something earthy.
None of them had a sweet fragrance, which meant they weren’t my scent match.
That would make this easier.
But did I want to drop my knickers?
There was a strange rumbling in my stomach. I pressed my hand there, wishing I never had the second portion of scrambled eggs for breakfast.
I glanced around the office, trying to look nonchalant rather than desperate.
The office was pure wealth. There was expensive wood, not the thin plywood that lined my caravan, the real stuff that came from the tallest trees.
The furniture was of the softest leather, and there were books upon books on the far wall. Even the art looked expensive, though it could have come from a street vendor. I doubt it, but how would I know?
The office was so fancy. Even the glass was tinted.
“Welcome Miss Prince. Take a seat,” a deep voice said.
I realized I was doing anything but looking at the three alphas. But this was it. My wobbly legs took me to the desk.
"This is Fritz and Etienne, Miss Prince," the man behind the desk said as I sat. "And I'm Hastings… Mr. Hastings."
Mr. Hastings had black hair, a granite jaw and gray eyes.
Fritz was very tall, hair like wet sand blond, tanned and he had leaner muscle than Etienne and Mr. Hastings.
Etienne was the largest in size of the three.
He had the widest of shoulders, massive arms and chest and he looked at me like he wanted to eat me as he leaned against the wall.
"When was your last heat, Presley?" Etienne asked with the kind of French accent that velvet would sound like if it was a sound.
My thighs clenched, I was already a little wet there.
"Two months ago," I squeaked.
I crossed my legs feeling the slick already building just by being around alphas.
God, I needed to get a real life. If I get this job, I swear I would save some of the money to make sure I have all my future heats in a clinic. "The next one is due in two weeks, sometimes they come earlier."
I needed to show them I was serious about this. That I could do it and be professional at the same time. I dug into my bag, past my clothes and wrapped my hand around what I was looking for. Then I smiled as I dropped the turkey baster onto the mahogany desk.
The silence in the office was deafening. "It's for the insemination," I blurted out. "I’ll boil it twice when I go into heat to make sure it’s immaculate before your..." My finger turned in the air as I tried to find the words. “Liquid…You know… Your contribution gets mixed inside.”
The three men just stared at me.
“Or will it only be one contribution load? Have you already decided who wants to be the father?”
"Miss Prince." Mr. Hastings' voice dropped an octave as he exchanged a look with his pack. "I think we should discuss the clauses in the contract immediately. First of all, any insemination will happen naturally.”
Naturally?
“You mean. Like you’re not all gay?”
"No, we are not. And the baby will be made naturally."
My stomach was going to land on the floor.
"I thought this was a business arrangement." My heart was thumping away like a donkey trying to kick its way out. “You can’t expect that.”
"We won't produce our heirs with kitchen utensils." Etienne’s nostrils flared. Was he smelling me?
"It’s not just a kitchen utensil," I snapped. "I'm trying to be professional. I'm trying to make this easy for you."
"We don't want easy, Miss Prince." Mr. Hastings leaned forward.
His gray eyes on mine looked like flint.
"But so you don’t get the wrong idea, we certainly don't want an omega.
To be clear, this is a surrogate contract.
We have no room in our lives for a permanent mate, nor do we desire one.
Our pack is complete as it is. We require an heir, and you require.
.. Well Miss Prince, why do you require this?
Most women with your qualities would be looking for a bonding, not a paycheck. "
Heat crawled up my neck. I looked at the three rich, powerful alphas who lived in their triple glass tower.
Three handsome alphas who wanted to produce a baby the natural way. But I could do it. Having alphas to take me through my heat would be different, possibly good. Anything would be better than doing it alone.
"I want a life." My voice was steadier than I felt a moment ago.
"I live in a caravan that’s more rust than metal, Mr. Hastings.
I spend my winters choosing between eating a hot meal or turning on the heater for an hour.
I don't want your claim, your name or your pack.
All I want is enough money to get out of that caravan park and rent a nice little cottage with a garden which has a foundation that doesn't shake when the wind blows.
And I want a cat. A real one of my own that I don't have to share with my grumpy neighbor. "
The silence that followed was different. It wasn't mocking. Fritz stopped smiling, his green eyes tracked over my face with a new intensity. Etienne straightened up from the wall, his gaze dropping to my worn boots.
"A cottage and a cat," Etienne murmured, his French accent licking between my legs.
Oh!
Get back on track.
"And we want a baby," Mr. Hastings added, his voice unreadable.
"You do," I agreed as a tiny lump formed in my throat. "I'll give you your dream, if you give me mine."
The rest of the interview was a blur. I remember rambling about my teeth and my natural blonde hair.
Etienne’s lip curled. Fritz laughed. Mr. Hastings just looked at me with those gray eyes that saw right through my charity-shop cardigan and into my empty bank account.
"Wait in the reception, Miss Prince." Mr. Hastings' voice was a low rumble. "We need to discuss you."
They were going to turn me down.
I gathered my pride and stood up. My knees did more than wobble; they threatened to give out entirely as the smell in the room started to curl around me.
The baster lay on the table like a sacrificial offering, or maybe I left it there on purpose, for them to have a serious think about it.
Though, the more I thought about it, my omega yearnings could be fulfilled by the three delicious smelling and looking alphas if we all agreed to this temporary arrangement.
Anything would be better than swapping caravans with Maeve for the week while I used toys on myself again.
I walked out to the reception area where I sat on the edge of a high-back-chair, my stomach doing flips when I heard them talking about me.
"She isn't really what we're looking for, is she?" Hastings’ voice was cold, professional, but it was his words that cut through me like a blade.
"I’m concerned about her smell," Etienne added. His French accent, which I’d thought was beautiful minutes ago, now sounded like a sneer.
My face went hot. I instinctively lifted my arm and sniffed my pit. I’d soaked in the fancy bath for an hour last night and washed again in the shower this morning. I didn't smell like a caravan; I smelled like jasmine soap!
"We have to know the right candidate will hand over the baby and leave." Fritz’s German accent sounded much deeper now.
"She's a waitress." Hastings dismissed. "She's desperate for the money. They all are. And when she realizes what’s on offer, she'll hand it over."
"And what about us?" Etienne's voice dropped. "What if we can't let her go at the end?"
Silence followed. A heavy, thick silence that felt like it was pressing against the door.
I pushed the door back open. My chin wobbled as I looked at the three of them.
They all snapped their heads toward me, their powerful scents spiking with surprise.
"I know I'm not perfect." My voice was small but I was determined. "But I'll be good. I'll take all the vitamins. I won't be a bother. I just want... security."
Mr. Hastings stood up, his gray eyes narrowing. "And the baby, Miss Prince? How will you give up the baby so easily?"
"No idea," I admitted. "But I can give you what you need. And I'll have a cottage, and a cat to love. That should be enough."
The smell of rain spiked in the air. I looked out of the window but the sky looked clear.
My pulse thrummed when Etienne let out a low, pained groan as his hand gripped the edge of the desk.
"We have other candidates, Miss Prince." Hastings didn’t look at me, he looked at Etienne with a strained expression. "Go to your room. We'll be in touch."
I didn't wait to be told twice. I turned and fled.
I hit the button for the elevator, my vision blurry. When the doors opened at the lobby, a woman was standing there waiting to get in. She was gorgeous, with dark brunette hair and wearing a suit. She looked much more appropriate for the job for rich alphas than me.
I should have worn Maeve’s clothes.
"Excuse me." She had a perfect, polished smile. "Do you know if Mr. Hastings is running on time? I have a nine o'clock appointment."
I just nodded, unable to speak, and pushed past her.
Back in the suite, the soft towels and the cozy bed didn't feel like a dream anymore. They felt like a taunt as I waited for what felt like forever. Staring at the phone, waiting for it to ring.
But it didn't.
Desperate. That’s what he’d called me. And he was right. I was a waitress in a ratty cardigan who brought a turkey baster to a billionaire's office.
They’re going to say no. Who would choose a girl from a caravan park when they could have anyone in the world?
With shaky hands, I grabbed my backpack, shoved my old clothes inside, and left the fob on the side table. I needed to go home to Maeve, Mr. Cheddar and my rust-bucket caravan where at least the air didn't smell like delicious alphas.
Alphas I could never have.