Etienne clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. Fritz’s eyes widened, his eyebrows shooting up toward his sandy blond hairline.
Womb to hire.
It was so crass,so devoid of the flowery language the agency used for the first three months we’d looked for the perfect surrogate, that I almost smiled.
"We prefer to use the term surrogate.” I made sure she heard the annoyed tone in my voice.
"Right. The ad said 'remuneration is to be discussed at the interview'. Does that mean...money? Like, actual bank-transferable funds? Or is this one of those 'paid in experience' things? Because the land owner doesn't accept experience."
"Actual funds," I confirmed. "Substantial funds."
"Oh. Okay. Good. That's good."
She was rambling. With every breath she took, I heard the adrenaline pumping around her system, and the flutter of her heart beating too fast. But beneath the nerves, there was something else. She had grit. A refusal to back down despite the obvious terror.
"What’s your name?" I asked.
"Presley."
"Presley. As in Elvis?”
“As in Presley Prince. Now are you the pack leader? Or just the guy who answers the phone and asks stupid questions? Because if it’s the latter, can you put me through to the pack leader?”
Etienne was shaking with silent laughter now. Fritz looked like he’d been slapped with a wet fish. No one asked if I was the guy who answered the phone.
"I’m the alpha who is looking for a womb to hire," I said, letting her words settle in the air.
"Right. Okay. You’re the alpha. Got it. Erm..." She paused. "So, do you want to... interview me? I have references. Well, I have a character reference from my err…my boss, but she’s also my best friend, so she might be biased. But I'm clean. And I’ve good teeth and a straight nose."
I closed my eyes and rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Good teeth and a straight nose?"
"It’s genetic, right? You want good genes. I've never had a filling and your child won’t be asking to have a nose job when it turns fourteen. Mine is quite cute."
I glared at Etienne and Fritz who were both laughing now.
"Can you be in London tomorrow?" I asked, cutting her off before she could list any more of her qualities. Though, really, I should have thought about things like that before.
“For an interview?”
“Yes. You don’t get the job because you haven’t had a filling and have a cute nose.”
"But tomorrow? In London?" Her voice dropped, losing its manic energy. "I... I’ll have to... I need to check the Megabus. I don't get paid until Friday." A pause, painful and quiet. "Can you wait until Saturday? The off-peak tickets are cheaper."
She was haggling for a bus ticket.
"No," I said. "I cannot wait untilSaturday."
"Oh." The sound was small, almost defeated. "Okay. It was worth a shot. Thanks anyway."
I looked around the office. At the Italian leather chairs, the bookshelves with first editions and artwork that cost more than anyone should ever pay for paint on a canvas. And then out at the city we called home.
"Give me your address," I commanded. The alpha instinct surged as I bypassed logic. It wasn't a decision; it was a compulsion.
"What?"
Etienne smiled. Fritz just looked shocked.
"Your address, Presley. Give it to me."
