“Oh my God. I’m going to climax.”
Maeve snorted. “I know. Who knew bakery goods were the equivalent of a scent match? I’ve had slick running down my thighs since they were delivered.”
“Maeve!”
“What! I’m just saying.”
“Have you ever met a scent match?”
She looked down at the plate, picked up a muffin and took a bite.
“I haven’t,” I continued, wishing she would open up to me.
“Me neither. I think alphas smell nice, but none have made me…” She stopped talking as she glanced out of the window and watched the cars that rolled into the park entrance.
“Want to drop your knickers.”
She laughed as I remembered what she told me not too long ago.
“Are you okay?” She looked tired. More than normal, and there were purple smudges under her eyes that even her concealer couldn't hide.
“Yeah.” It was a lie. One day, she’d be ready to talk.
"Then stop it," I said, blowing on my tea. "Nobody's coming."
"I can’t help it, it’s a habit," she murmured, turning her attention to me.
She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a folded piece of newspaper. It looked like she’d been carrying it around for days; the edges were soft and fuzzy. "Read this."
"I don't read the news, Maeve. It's depressing. War, famine, the price of butter going up again, and that’s just the UK." I picked up my cup of tea and took a sip.
She grinned. "Just read it." She slid it across the sticky table.
It was a clipping from one of the newspapers that customers always left behind in the posh coffee shops in Harrogate. The kind that cost three quid and stained your fingers with ink.
I picked it up with my free hand, and choked on my tea as I read the headline.
OMEGA SURROGATE WANTED.
Private Clients. High-profile Pack. Based in Kensington. Excellent remuneration to be discussed at the interview. Candidates must be of Omega designation, healthy, and discreet. NDA must be signed. Accommodation provided. Possibility of subsequent contracts.
2
Presley
I read it twice.
"So?" Maeve asked as she leaned forward, her elbows on the table.
"So, some rich alpha pack in London wants to rent a womb." I dropped the clipping back onto the table. "What else is new? Alphas always want something they can buy."
"Look at the location, Pres. It’s in Kensington. That’s not just rich. That’srealmoney. That’s'I own a yacht and a small island'money."
"And?"
"And you’re broke."
"I'm financially challenged."
