10. Enchanting Connection
Enchanting Connection
~ASTRAEA~
“ I ’m busy. Unless this is a life-or-death situation, you can call back and leave a message like every other cocky fucker.”
The deep rumble voice is close but sounds as if the sound comes from the right one minute and the left the next.
“You’re talking too much and fast for me to understand you, especially when you’re speaking up against my ear. No… I’m not going to put you on speaker. The last time I checked, I’m the talent manager, and you’re desperate to be under my management.”
It takes my mind a few seconds to realize who’s speaking.
That familiar deep voice… wait!
Everything seems to hit me like a slap in the face, making my head pound. It’s probably the alcohol’s fault. Truthfully, that could have been why something so simple as being tossed like a rag doll against a wall took me out far too fast.
Ugh, so fucking embarrassing.
I’m humiliated enough to wish I could go back to sleep. I’ve learned through my problematic mother—who emphasizes how easy it is to be murdered as an Omega, matched with my survival instincts—to assess your surroundings when your ‘enemy’ is unaware of your consciousness.
Though, I don’t think I’ve ever considered this Alpha in particular an enemy in the slightest. Just a sexy hot fucker who I want to climb, bang, and do far too many sinful things with.
It takes far too long to pull myself out of that thought, but I’m tuning back into the conversation at hand because an unfamiliar gruff voice is echoing through a speaker.
“I get it, Icarus, but we’re desperate! This is our only shot. Everyone knows Vesper’s work gets artists platinum with just his mention! We’d give our life savings to get a song written by him!”
Wait…
They’re talking about Blair Vesper.
Aka me…
“You think I don’t have every one of my artists begging to get on Vesper’s roster? It must be such an easy task that works by voicing how desperate you are to gain platinum status. Tell me something that hasn’t been stated by every band and artist ever,” the Alpha, who I realize is Icarus, announces with a nonchalant tone. “And call me by my name again, and I’ll ignore your phone calls for six months straight. Don’t question whether I can do that or not because I can and will if you test me.”
“My apologies, Mr. Morrigan.”
Hold on…Morrigan. Like Morrigan StarCaptors Corp? The security company… the one Kamari was saying is owned by the talent manager of the Alpha Rockstar trending… Holy fucking hell. Is it him?!
“I-I understand the predicament and the hardship it would take to be acknowledged by Vesper, but this is the perfect timing. With that Omega movement going on, we need favor before things turn for the worse. You know our band has been very vocal about our disdain in treating Omegas like…”
“Like actual beings of our society who are important and drive our success,” Icarus grumbles. “Oh, right. Your group doesn’t believe in all that fateful bullshit, yes?”
“Mr. Morrigan, it’s more than that,” he groans in dismay. “C’mon, you’re in the same boat as us, aren’t you? I’m not sure if the rumors and stuff are true, but isn’t Morelli in agreement with our viewpoints? Omegas now are all entitled. They use themselves as bait to get the group of Alphas who will contribute to their addictive behavior to all this luxury bullshit that does nothing but accessorize them. It’s a money pit of waste.”
From the thick disdain in this man’s voice, he hates us Omegas.
What did we do to you, bud?
“Morelli has plenty of trauma and experience to despise Omegas in his way, but he’s not wasting my time, speaking utter foolishness as if this conversation is free,” Icarus grumbles.
“W-Wait, you’re charging me?
“Every second you waste of my life, yes,” Icarus reveals. “Surprisingly enough, I have a life outside of managing your lot of fuckers who are becoming rather demanding and ungrateful lately. What? You think because your album sales have risen due to that viral post, which so happened to be from a trending Omega fan, that you’re suddenly worth my time?”
The way Icarus laughs sends a chill through me because it’s menacing and yet satisfying to listen to. He doesn’t realize how his defense and annoyance make my heart flutter at being defended by him. He’s not necessarily defending me specifically, but it’s amazing to hear an Alpha boldly defend us without reaping some sort of benefit.
“W-We’re doing superb before that, but it is a bonus. Didn’t know she was an Omega,” he defends immediately. “Asides doesn’t mean we don’t have talent. We can become all-stars. Get gigs left and right if we have that final push we need. Vesper is the way to go. He can surely give us a chance.”
“Chances cost money,” Icarus huffs. “Money your group hasn’t earned. Do you think a few million is going to get you a song from Vesper? If you don’t know, the last song sold by him was a twenty-five million bidding war.”
“TW-TW-TWENTY-FIVE MILLION?!”
When you hear it spoken like that, I guess I am rather pricey. I haven’t looked at the numbers much since I let Velvet assist me with the money part. Gives me anxiety watching those bids, so I ask Velvet to make sure everything looks fine and dandy and pay her a generous amount to keep things rolling and money depositing where it needs to.
My anxiety revolving around money stems from my childhood, despite us being wealthy. I’ve always had the impression money will vanish when you least expect it, so I fight to ensure it’s always flowing from different streams.
It doesn’t mean I don’t know how rich I am, but more so, I act oblivious most of the time.
Like they say, ignorance is bliss.
“Before tax,” Icarus says with a hint of mockery in his voice. “That would take your group about two years to make consistent sales at the current pace.A year and a half if your merch sales suddenly pop off. Regardless, I’ll tell you this now. Vesper isn’t going to be a trump card for your success and prosperity in this world of endless competition. True talent stands out. Sure, handouts are all fine and dandy, but I remember when signing your group that you didn’t want the easy way out. You genuinely wanted fame and to gain it at a pace that would produce ongoing success, regardless of the ups and downs.”
He allows his elaboration to sink in before continuing.
“I agreed to take your group on with that agreement written in our contract. It’s written and signed by every artist under my management,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone. “So, if you’ve decided you no longer want to respect and follow those terms and conditions, only say the word, and we can end things.”
No way. He’s willing to cut ties over this?!
I’m baffled because signing musical groups not only costs money, but they gain a heap ton when the money trickles down the hierarchy of music management. I’m sure Icarus, being the talent manager, gets a set percentage every month by default.
Regardless of whether he lets them go or not, all previous music created by the group, a percentage will always flow into his bank account. Either way, the little lump sum versus what he currently makes by supporting these groups to remain popular can be a whole tax bracket in difference.
“I-I don’t want to end things, but I want you to give us more opportunities,” he stresses. “How is it that Onyx Core has been able to secure deals with Vesper with a phone call and you can’t? Everyone in the music industry knows you. You’re sought out by talent across the world. We’ve worked hard as fuck this year, and you know getting a song from Vesper isn’t a handout. It’s a blessing that pays back twenty times!”
“If you believe that corporation of cocky Alphas who enjoy creating music with every intention of trash-talking Omegas like they’re at the bottom of the food scale is something to be compared or idolized, I encourage you to go get a contract from them,” Icarus suggests and has a bit of resolve in his voice. As though he’s already made his decision. “Did you ever think Vesper could potentially be an Omega?”
My heart is skipping so fast, I force my eyes to open to make sure I’m still alive. Noticing my surroundings are dark, I follow the only warm light, which seems to be in a corner just under a big television.
It’s a miniature fireplace, and I realize Icarus is standing in front of it. He’s angled in a way that allows the burning glow of the flames to flicker along his back, accenting the muscled lines and the plentiful tattoos.
I can drool if I look at them for too long, but what catches my attention is what he’s holding in his other hand. He’s moving between his fingertips again and again as if to distract himself from what he’d previously been doing.
He had to be pacing earlier. That’s why his voice was coming from one end and the other.
The familiar purple pick steals my attention, making me realize why I couldn’t find my guitar pick in my bag. I’m trying to figure out why he would have it, especially that specific one that’s a limited-edition guitar pick.
Fuck! I dropped it at the gym!
As if my mental realization tugs at Icarus’ senses, he looks over his shoulder, his hauntingly beautiful eyes locking on mine and widening in acknowledgment.
He took me from the alleyway into this safe space. Is this his place? Or a hotel? I don’t know where we are, but why would he help me?
We’re just strangers.
The side of me that never wants to get her hopes up is praying to be let down, but that Omega side of me dares to crave otherwise.
To be proven that this alluring Alpha who adores me with those sapphire eyes dares take an interest in me that’s beyond a one-night coincidence.
Laughter pierces through our intense connection, our attention moving to his hand that’s holding his phone, which is still on speaker.
Icarus shifts his gait, allowing me a better view of his six-pack while the shadows outline his massive frame. My mouth feels noticeably dry, making me suddenly thirsty.
Down under, on the other hand, is pooling with slick.
Goodness, am I even wearing underwear right now?
“Now you’re just talking madness, Icarus,” he announces with pride. My lips press together as this guy on the line goes off. “Blair Vesper is a talented Alpha whose been creating the most viral-selling songs in the industry. He thrives on the mysterious aspect of not meeting just anyone. No difference in how hard it is to get him to attend any public relations. Needless to say, such a unique, famous lyricist can’t be a weak-ass Omega. Their purpose is to be fucked and to raise children. Heck, they can even make us Alphas a sandwich while we do all the hard work. No Omegas should be thinking of having careers. They should do what they were born to do. Attend to their Alphas, who ensure they’re taken care of. We’re the ones who have to put a roof over their head. Are forced to buy unnecessary shit for them to look decent in society. Our Omega isn’t going to be like all these spoiled brats Omegas rejoicing over this new movement, but that’s a whole different conversation.”
I try not to show the weight of this man’s words due to my confidence, but my lips dip while I lower my gaze. It’s these moments that make me feel like such a submissive. Despite all my accomplishments, commitments, and dedicated actions, I’m only looked at by the label forced upon me at birth.
I didn’t choose to be an Omega.
I doubt anyone would choose to be what most Alphas deem a sex slave, a sandwich maker. Heck, they aren’t even proud to call us wives and mothers most of the time.
I never wanted this, but what choice was given to me? None.
The Omega part of me just wants to shrivel up into a tiny ball and poof away like most Alphas wish for us. It’s amazing how they enjoy the sexual benefits and flaunt us when it benefits them, but other than that, we’re nothing but an accessory that gives pleasure from time to time.
Why was I expecting this movement to change the reality that most Alphas are douchebags?
“So, no. Blair Vesper isn’t an Omega, and if the mere idea of him being a male Omega came out, his whole career would go to ruins. No one would want to give their money to someone like that. The idea is pure mockery.” He laughs to further emphasize his point. “So why don’t we get back to the point of trying to get a song from him? If we raise funds, could we possibly make an inquiry?”
I come to realize that’s not the reason for my disappointment.
The real slump in my feelings is accepting Icarus may be like everyone else.
Unaccepting at the idea of Omegas thriving in the world that does its darndest to ruin us.
“It’s a shame you think that way.”
The touch to my chin follows with my head being lifted upward. My eyes widen, taking in the closeness of the Alpha, who I assumed would boldly agree with his client.
If that’s the case, why is he here… up close… looking at me as though he’d burn the world for me?
“C’mon, Icarus, be for?—”
“I’ll be expecting your termination contract on my desk by the morning,” he interrupts while his eyes lower to my lips. I witness the intense fascination rooted in his gaze, further holding my breath when my thumb lightly trails my bottom lip, parting them slightly. “You can be the leader you’ve always wanted and tell your mates.”
“Wh-What?! No…w-wait!”
“Vesper says hi, by the way,” he dares to whisper the words as our eyes are locked. I’m sure he’s waiting for the threads of realization to swarm my widened eyes, but all I can concentrate on is how the aroma blending around us mellows so perfectly. “He likes listening in to my business calls from time to time.”
Sweet paradise.
He doesn’t wait for a begging response. He taps the screen without looking at it, and I can only hope he hangs up because I can’t ignore the way my insides heat up with need.
I can’t ignore this.
Neither can he.
“So, Vesper,” his voice is barely audible as he inches close enough that our lips brush with his next words. “Would I be to your liking?”
Don’t respond. Don’t move. Don’t fucking breathe.
All goes to hell because the Omega in me overrides every sense of reason to claim what my body is begging for.
Him.