Page 50 of Beautifully Scarred Omega

“But,” I say, leaning against the conference table and crossing my arms, “don’t you think that’s an important task? Keeping everyone sexually satisfied?” I tilt my head, watching her reaction. “Helps maintain order in society. Happy people are productive people. And all that.”

“That’s a stretch.”

“Is it?” I push off from the table, taking a step closer. Not crowding her, just closing the distance slightly. “Think about it. Alphas and omegas have biological needs that can be overwhelming. Disruptive. Products like ours help people manage those urges safely. Privately. Without it affecting their work or their relationships.”

Sophie keeps her eyes fixed on her equipment, but I notice her movements have slowed. “So you’re saying you’re providing a public service.”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“By selling vibrators and knot simulators.”

“Someone has to.” A smile tugs at my mouth. “Surely you can appreciate the value of release.”

She looks up at that. I hold her gaze.

She doesn’t respond. Just makes a noncommittal sound and turns back to her work.

“You don’t seem convinced.”

“I’m not here to be convinced of anything, Mr. Brooks. I’m here to find a mole.”

“Ethan,” I remind her.

She ignores that. “The point is, whether I think your business is worthwhile or not doesn’t matter. It’s not my concern.”

“But if it was your concern,” I press, because apparently I can’t leave well enough alone, “what would you think? About all of it. The products. The pleasure industry, as you put it.”

She sets down the detector and turns to face me fully. Her eyes have gone flat.

“You really want to know?”

“I really do.”

“I think,” she says slowly, “that the world would be a lot simpler if people didn’t let their bodies control their decisions. If alphas could think with their actual brains for once and omegas didn’t go into heat and lose all sense of reason.”

“You’re not wrong,” I say.

She looks at me, clearly expecting pushback. “You’re agreeing with me?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Biology is inconvenient. It’s one of the reasons we built this company, to give people more control over their own bodies.” I shrug. “The fact that it happens to produce products people find enjoyable is just a bonus.”

She stares at me for a moment, like she’s not quite sure what to do with that. Then she turns back to her equipment. “Let’s keep moving.”

The fourth floor is clean. Every conference room, every office. Not a single bug or listening device anywhere.

She’s been ignoring me for the most part, focused entirely on the work. But she also hasn’t asked me to leave. When I hand her equipment, she takes it. When I move furniture, she nods in thanks. It’s not much, but it’s something.

By the time we’re done, it’s nearly eleven. I’m exhausted, my eyes gritty from the late hour and the dim lighting. Sophie looks exhausted too, though she’d probably rather take a bullet than admit it. There are shadows under her eyes, a tightness around her mouth that wasn’t there when we started.

Neither of us says anything as we head down the corridor.

And then her stomach growls, loudly enough that it echoes off the walls.

Sophie’s jaw tightens, her eyes fixed straight ahead, pretending it didn’t happen.

I try to do the same. I really do.

But then it growls again.