The OmegaBox executive dashboard glows across my monitor. Our new campaign numbers just populated and I’m digging through data on engagement spikes, influencer conversions, projected subscriber growth. Cammie’s been thrilled about comments and click-through rates for weeks, but I care about one thing right now: actual revenue.
My phone vibrates again, face down next to my trackpad.
Buzz.
Buzzbuzz.
Buzz.
I ignore it.
Boss Bitch mode engaged.
Don’t be cranky. That could be our alphas texting.
My normally quiet omega has been very chatty since I left the clinic’s office.
Buzz.
For thelove of—
I flip the phone over.
Riverside Elite: 22 new notifications.
Twenty-two.
My omega smirks.It could have been thirty if you’d asked the one about positions.
It’s only been one hour since I sent my first message.
This is fine. This is normal. Twenty-two alphas responding to a light, neutral, absolutely-not-heat-coded question about celebrity crushes.
I roll my eyes at her, then tap the app.
Twenty-three messages now.
Fantastic.
KnotSovereign88:Riley Steele. No contest.
I blink. Who?
Google search.
Oh.
Oh no.
My screen is filled with pictures of a brunette omega, spread eagle, usually biting a long pink nail, in various states of undress. Curious, I click on one.
Riley Steele: Gagged and Knotted—Extended Edition
My omega leans forward.He’s… not for us.
Absolutely not.
Goodbye, KnotSovereign.
