"Number two. The professional." He made a face like he’d swallowed a lemon. "She brought a contract to the preliminary meeting. She wants a legal team present for the insemination.”
“Insemination.”
“She wants to turn the conception into a board meeting."
"Only two?" Etienne finally looked up. His hazel eyes danced with amusement. He was the most relaxed of us, the French charm masking a predatory streak that was just as sharp as mine. Stubble darkened his jaw, giving him a rugged look.
"There could be a number three," I groaned, "She calls. She breathes. She hangs up. Four times today already."
"Maybe she’s feeling intimidated," Etienne said, stretching his legs out. "A pack of alphas. It’s scary for an omega. We may need to wooher."
“Omegas love alphas. She’ll be begging for us to knot her.” Fritz took a seat opposite me, laughing.
"We only need an heir," I said, my voice cutting through their banter. "We don't need romance. We don't need a mate. We need a biological arrangement. Something clean and simple."
"Right, a baby," Etienne corrected softly. "We only need a baby."
We were silent for some time thinking about that.
I needed an heir. Etienne probably wanted a family, and Fritz... well, Fritz wanted someone to call his own, not just a baby.
But that was the trouble, we were a pack without an omega, since…
And now we were all over thirty, and successful in different ways. I’d conquered the business world, but the house was too quiet. There were no toys on the floor. No reason to come home early. Just three alphas circling each other, and working until we dropped because there was nothing else to do.
The private line on my desk rang.
And it wasn't the trill of the office phone. It was the harsh, mechanical ring of the direct line listed in the blind ad.
Fritz threw his hands up. "It is her again. The Breather. I bet you fifty pounds."
"Ignore it," I said, reaching for a pen. “We need someone less flighty.”
The phone stopped but immediately rang again. She was already annoying.
"Answer it, Henry," Etienne said, sitting up. "Put her out of her misery if you’ve given up."
I snatched the receiver up, my patience snapping. "Hello." My voice was a low growl, the kind that usually made subcontractors sweat and apologize for delays.
The line would be silent if it wasn’t for the static. Then there was a sharp intake of breath.
"If you hang up again," I said, "I’ll have your number blocked."
"Sorry. Hi," a voice squeaked.
I stopped. It wasn't a polished voice. It was bright, terrified, and undeniably Northern. It sounded soothing, like rain on the roof.
I put her on the loud speaker.
"I’m calling about the job," she rushed out.
Fritz stared. Etienne went still on his seat.
We were all alphas; our hearing was tuned to a frequency most people missed. And I was sure I could hear her pulse jumping through the earpiece.
"Which job?" I asked..
"Oh... Yeah. I’m calling about the... err... the womb to hire?"
