“The Mistress of the Wardrobe.” Oberon dutifully took her hand and planted a chaste kiss on her knuckles. Tensions between her company and the White Frost were high. It was best to keep up the charade of friendliness. “Your reputation precedes you, but I must say, talk of your beauty pales in comparison to the real thing.”
“You flatter me, Mr. King.”
“Ah, you know my secret identity.”
“Not much of a secret,” she laughed demurely, but it was such a clear act that it was hard for O not to roll his eyes. “I believe you were on the cover of Alpha Q magazine. This month's issue was released this morning. The entire city is buzzing about you. I’d be surprised if there was a person on the entire planet who hasn’t already seen it.”
“Does that include the omega I just purchased?”
A flicker of something crossed through her brown eyes, gone in a flash. “To be clear, what you bid on was a single heat, Mr. King. But you caught me. Product is carefully watched over, and Fenrir is no different. Even if he were allowed out in the world unattended, his idea of light reading doesn’t include entertainment publications.”
“Alpha Q is a business magazine,” Oberon corrected, careful to keep his tone airy. “But point taken. What sorts of things does he read then?”
She chuckled. “Why so curious? Surely you don’t intend to read with him before bedding him? You’re a busy man. I don’t imagine you’d waste time on a sure thing.”
“No,” he agreed, “which is why I’m here. Something has come up in my schedule and I’d like to take my winnings early. Your men here seem to think that’s not possible. I’m hoping you’ll have a more favorable answer for me.”
The Wardrobe had power. They’d somehow escaped the same prosecution that the rest of the illegally run organizationshad when the Imperial Prince had culled the planet. The fact that they were far from the capital, where the prince resided and aimed his earlier attention, coupled with not being the most noteworthy company responsible for said trials, had most likely worked in her favor.
But the clock was ticking.
Sooner or later, the prince would come knocking. Or worse. She’d wake to find Kian Erksine, the Dominus of the Eumia mafia, standing on her doorstep.
Unlike Kian and the prince, the White Frost hadn’t let the Wardrobe out of their sights. They’d gathered enough intel to know that the company was actually the first to achieve success in their trial runs. Though they’d sold versions of Rebirth to their competitors, they’d held onto formulas. It was also clear that they’d obtained their test subjects in questionable manners, and no one with half a brain cell bought for even a second that those poor souls had joined the research voluntarily.
He wondered how many of the products on stage were altered. Was Fenrir the only one? If so, why’d she lump him in with the rest? Synthetic omegas and alphas were prized by some dark organizations. Surely she could have sold him to an underground club for close to what Oberon had just paid.
Since she’d had no reason to believe prior that Fenrir’s single heat would fetch such a large sum…something wasn’t adding up.
While his file had been made readily available to Oberon, that was only because he’d been in a VIP booth and had the foresight to request it. It felt too much like she’d been trying to hide Fenrir’s situation.
O’s curiosity grew to insurmountable levels.
“If something has come up, you can always retrieve him at a later date,” Michelle suggested. “The contract makes that clear. His heat—”
“It’s Heated Hearts Day,” he reminded. “The point is to celebrate by spending it in the bed of an omega. Doing so any other time kind of defeats the purpose of my purchase.”
“Then if you could just be patient and wait with—”
“It’s starting to seem like you don’t want me taking him,” Oberon cut her off, and though he’d merely been reaching, the second his words caused her to stiffen, he felt like he’d accidentally stumbled onto something.
Interesting.
A hypothesis started to form, and he surprisingly wasn’t fond of it.
“Don’t tell me the Mistress of the Wardrobe placed her own omega in the auction?” His gaze pointedly swept across her face. “I’ve read his file. He’s unmarked. I’ve also heard rumor that your preferences aim in a more female direction. Is that incorrect?”
There was one male said to have managed to sway her, but Oberon didn’t bother bringing that up. Not when this was merely a tactic to force her hand.
He couldn’t give a shit less who she wanted to sleep with, so long as she understood Fenrir was currently off the table.
“You’re reading too far into things,” she reassured him. “I’m simply trying to run a business here, Mr. King. You better than most understand the importance of keeping a structured house.”
“I understand it’s better to bend a few rules than risk pissing off a valuable customer.” Unfortunately for her, this conversation had unlocked far too many questions for him to play nice and simply walk away like originally planned. “Eleven million coin is no small number, and your reaction here has caused some alarm. I’m going to have to insist I test out the product before the official exchange is made.”
Her brow furrowed. “That’s unheard of, Mr. King. I can’t in good conscience allow you to touch one of our products without the safety of a contract in place.”
“I’m going to have to insist.”