Chapter Two #3
“Sounds amazing.” He closes his textbook. “I thought you had today off.”
“I picked up a shift.” I move to the pantry and begin pulling out things to make the spaghetti.
Worry flutters through his eyes. “You’re working too much, Elio. You’re going to get sick too if you never take a day off.”
“Nah. I can handle it.” I give him what I hope is a reassuring smile. “You had a test today in your online psych class, right? How’d it go?”
He hesitates but then begins to tell me about the test as I cook dinner.
I find joy in how animated he is when he talks about his classes.
His face lights up as he shares his stories.
I could listen to him talk for hours. All I want is to hear his voice the rest of my life, telling me about the things in life that make him happy.
While the idea of allowing an alpha to use my body for breeding terrifies me, I focus instead on what it will provide for Fabio.
Because that’s all I care about. I can endure whatever I need to so long as in the end, Fabio is okay.
After dinner, we enjoy a quiet evening of TV and air-popped popcorn.
I wait until he goes to bed before I open my laptop and start filling out Roman Kessler’s intake forms. Once I’ve filled in all the paperwork, I send it back, heart racing.
An hour later an appointment for the medical screening pops up in my email.
It’s tomorrow afternoon in Philadelphia, just like he said.
My stomach churns as I realize I’ll have to leave work early to make it in time. But it can’t be helped.
The next day, the medical screening takes place in a nondescript building in downtown Philadelphia.
The office is clean and sleek and doesn’t have a name on the door.
Everything about it is designed to say nothing.
I am poked, prodded, scanned, tested, and assessed by two doctors who are professional and thorough and do not make small talk.
Blood work, genetic panel, full physical.
They’re efficient. The whole thing takes three hours.
Two days later, Kessler calls.
“Congratulations, Mr. Conti, you passed the screening.” I hear papers being shuffled. “Your health profile is excellent. I have a potential match I’d like you to consider.”
My stomach tightens. “Is it the alpha you were thinking of the other day?”
“It is indeed. Your profile fits his criteria well. I’d like to arrange a meeting between you. Something low pressure, in a neutral location. You’ll have a chance to talk and see if you’re comfortable with each other. If not, we’ll keep looking until we find a match.”
“Will you be there too?”
“No.”
My stomach drops. “Can you tell me anything about him?” I’m hopeful that hearing some details will make me less stressed. Maybe it’ll make this potential alpha feel more like a person and not a faceless threat.
He hesitates. “Uh… sure. He’s thirty-five.
Based on the East Coast in a place called Sorrento Bay.
Financially, he’s extremely well positioned.
He’s looking for an omega to enter a marriage partnership.
You’d live with him for the duration of the agreement.
You two will decide the duration between you.
The compensation he’s offered would more than cover your brother’s medical expenses.
Not to be crass, but even after paying for your brother’s surgery, you’ll be set for life, Mr. Conti. ”
“I don’t care about money. I… I just care about my brother getting healthy.”
Mr. Kessler sounds amused as he says, “Well, in this case you’re going to have both. If you and this alpha hit it off, you and your brother will never have to worry about money again.”
While the idea of that sounds nice, the logistics are beginning to worry me. I run a shaky hand through my hair as I try to think of how to word things. “You said this alpha lives in Sorrento Bay. That’s kind of a problem. My brother and I live in Philadelphia.”
“Right. You’ll have to relocate.”
I swallow hard. “What if I don’t want to move?”
There’s a tense silence. “Mr. Conti, you are aware you came to me, right?”
“Yes,” I say, face warming.
“This opportunity will require you to move to where the alpha lives. I believe the contract I sent you made that clear. The men I do business with are very powerful men. They can’t just up and relocate on a whim.
It’s always the omega who’s required to make that sacrifice.
If that’s not something you’re willing to do, I’m afraid we’ll have to part ways. ”
I let out a harsh breath. “But my brother is having his surgery in Philadelphia. I can’t just leave him behind. He’ll be in recovery for a long time after the surgery. I’ll need to be there to help him through his recovery.”
“Ahhh.” He sounds relieved. “I understand your reticence now. That won’t be an issue, Mr. Conti. The alpha I have in mind for you is fully briefed on your situation with your brother. If you two are compatible, he’ll see to it that the surgery takes place in or very near Sorrento Bay.”
“But the doctor said there are very few surgeons around the country qualified to do the type of surgery my brother needs. What are the odds one of them lives in Sorrento Bay?”
“Trust me when I say that won’t be an issue.” There’s not a hint of doubt in his voice.
I sigh. “I want to trust you, I really do, but it’s my brother’s life at stake.”
There’s a strained silence, but when Kessler speaks, he sounds empathetic not angry.
“Mr. Conti, I understand this is all very stressful for you. It would be stressful for you even without the added worry about your brother. But I can assure you, if you move forward in this process, and you and the alpha I have in mind sign the contract, your brother will have a surgeon far above what he might have had in Philadelphia. There’s very little the alpha in question can’t make happen if that’s what he wants. ”
I grit my teeth, deciding I have little choice other than to take his word for that. The alternative is the deal falls through and I’m at square one again. “Okay. When is the meeting?”
“Saturday. There’s a diner outside of Millhaven, off Route 30. It’s called Mike’s Waffles and Stuff. 3:00 p.m. work for you?”
“I think so.” From how Kessler was talking about this alpha, I’d have assumed he’d want to meet somewhere with fancy cocktails and hors d’oeuvres. Not a waffle house. “He really wants to meet in a place like that?”
“He has his reasons. Will you be there?”
“I’ll be there.” At least he’s flying to me, instead of making me fly to Sorrento Bay. I suppose I should be grateful for that courtesy.
“I’ll email you the address and time so you have it in writing. Have a good evening, Mr. Conti.” Kessler hangs up.
****
When Saturday rolls around I’m a nervous wreck.
I don’t know what to wear to meet a rich alpha who wants to hire me to have his baby.
That’s not a situation I ever thought I’d have to dress for.
I settle on jeans and a button-down because it’s a diner, not a gala, and if he doesn’t like a guy in jeans then this isn’t going to work anyway.
Mike’s Waffles and Stuff is right off the highway.
It’s the kind of place truckers swear by.
I predict the inside décor will consist of Formica tables, red vinyl booths, and maybe a pie case by the register.
I’ve driven past it many times and never stopped.
I pull into the lot at two-fifty and sit in my car trying to calm my racing pulse.
The parking lot is mostly empty since it’s after lunch and not yet dinnertime.
There’s a black Mercedes SUV in the parking lot with tinted windows.
It doesn’t belong anywhere near this diner.
I suspect it has to be my date’s ride. There’s a driver behind the wheel, a tough burly bodyguard driver type.
I’m pretty sure he’s not the alpha I’m meeting.
So that means the guy I’m meeting needs a driver slash bodyguard?
That’s not intimidating at all.
I get out of my car and walk inside. Sure enough the décor is exactly what I expected, pastry case and all. I glance around the quiet restaurant and spot him immediately. Even if it had been crowded inside, he’d have stood out to me. He’s impossible to miss.
He’s in a booth in the back corner, facing the door like Wild Bill Hickok.
He’s wearing a dark suit and red tie and he looks completely at ease yet simultaneously out of place.
Mike’s Waffles and Stuff has paper placemats with word searches on them.
Yet this man is sitting there in what looks like a hand-tailored Italian suit, completely unruffled by the greasy-spoon ambiance.
He’s big and very good-looking. That’s the first thing I register.
Tall and broad, the kind of build that isn’t just gym-sculpted, but like he was built to take a punch.
Dark hair, cut short and neat. A jaw that could have been carved with a chisel.
Dark eyes lift from the menu to me the moment I step inside.
He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t wave. He just looks at me, and something about the way he looks at me makes my skin prickle. It’s not threatening, exactly. It’s assessing. Like he’s running calculations behind those dark eyes and I’m one of the variables.
I walk to the booth on shaky legs. I want to project confidence, but that’s the last thing I’m actually feeling. It occurs to me I don’t know the name of the alpha I’m supposed to meet. Unsure of what else to do, I ask, “Hi, um… do you know Kessler?”
“Yes. I’m Marcello. Sit down.” His voice is deep and quiet, but there’s a thread of authority that doesn’t need volume.