My heart hurt as I pressed my palm against the glass. But I was doing this for her as well as me. We could live in the cottage together in nine months. I could save her from whatever demons she was running from. But first I had a job to do. I was heading to London to make a baby with three alphas I barely knew.
9
Presley
Fritz dropped me ontoa sofa that was so soft it could swallow me whole.
I sank into cushions, still wrapped in my layers of wool like a human burrito. My hair had achieved sentience during the helicopter ride. It was a bird's nest of tangles that stuck out at angles. I looked a mess, felt a mess, and smelled like—well, I didn't actually know what I smelled like, but from the way three sets of alpha eyes tracked my every movement, it was apparently something significant.
"Welcome to our home, Miss Prince."
Hastings stood by the tall sash windows that overlooked the private garden square. The white stucco townhouse across the street was identical to this one, all classical proportions and wrought iron balconies.
I expected a penthouse overlooking the Thames, something fit for bachelors, not a family home.
Through the window was a gated garden in the center of the square, the kind of green space that probably required a special key just to enter. The room itself was all highceilings with ornate cornicing, a marble fireplace that could have roasted an entire pig, and parquet floors that gleamed under tasteful lamps.
He seemed to find it hard to look me directly in the eye. Was it my thrift-store leggings, my multiple layers, or was trying to ignore the way I smelled?
"It's a little different from home." My voice trembled as I clutched the edge of my blanket.
The understatement of the century. My caravan could have fit in the entrance hall of this place with space left over for a powder room. "But this is a business deal, so let's make the rules. And I want them in writing. No... err... funny business."
Etienne let out a dry, dark chuckle from somewhere near the doorway to what looked like a library. "The entire arrangement is 'funny business,’ Princesse. But very well. Henry?"
Princesse.
Hastings cleared his throat. "Rule one: You stay here. Your heat is due, so we need you safe, monitored, fed, and healthy."
Safe.
The word landed somewhere deep in my chest. I hadn't felt safe in years. Not since Mum's diagnosis, not since Dad's funeral, not since the nights I'd lain awake in my freezing caravan listening to the wind rattle the walls and wondering if this was the storm that would finally tear the wholething apart.
"It's not for a couple of weeks," I said.
"And we'll start paying you from today. Five thousand pounds per week."
Five thousand pounds.
Did he say per week?
"Okay." The word came out strangled.
I didn’t question it. Why would I? I was going to be rich.
"Where do I sleep?"
Fritz chuckled from his position near the bar, where he was pouring himself something amber from a crystal decanter.
"I’ll show you the nest." Etienne stepped into the light, and I was suddenly very aware of how close he was. How his hazel eyes seemed fixed on the pulse point in my neck. How the rain scent coming off him made something low in my belly tighten.
"Nest..." My heart flip-flopped like a wet fish. Of course they had a nest. I had one in my caravan, but I'd never actually had one where alphas put in the effort for their omega. The idea that they'd prepared something specifically for me, for my heat...
You’re not theirs.
I caught Hastings' eyes as he said, "If you conceive during this first heat, there will be a significant bonus. We accept it's something you haven't done before. If you want to feel a knot before your heat, let us know."
"Oh..." I squeeze my thighs together,feeling the wetness there.
