“Dr. Langdon,” Gloria said, reaching out to touch the arm of a tall Alpha. “I’d like to introduce you to our main fundraising participant, Sydney.”

The first thing Mel noticed was his hair—dark, not a hint of gray. Bright blue eyes, chin dimple. He could be a model for toothpaste, being so clean-cut, all-American. As she noticed the Beta on his arm, Mel thought, perfect, taken . Mated. He smelled fine, nothing odious. Gloria plucked the champagne from Mel's hand. 

“Say hello,” she instructed under her breath. Then, to the Langdons, “She’s very shy.”

Mel offered her hand to him, which he took to his mouth to kiss. Formal, unsubtle scenting. She doubted he could smell anything on her after so many other Alphas had already pawed at her. His eyes locked on her. 

“Do you drink?” he asked, releasing her hand after a moment. 

Mel faced Gloria, surprised by the question. “No,” Mel said. “Not normally.”

“Never,” Gloria said, hiding Mel’s glass behind her. “She’s nervous. Big night. Did I mention she’s a nurse? Very accomplished.”

Mel was, in fact, a medical doctor. But that would alienate the traditionalists, the Alphas that thought Omegas belonged in pink collar professionals. 

That interested him. “If you get an order for phenytoin and haloperidol, how do you administer them?”

“Why would a provider call that in?” Mel asked. “They’re contraindicated.”

“Holy shit,” Dr. Langdon said, a wide smile breaking out across his face. “You found a nurse.”

Mel wrinkled her nose, pretty sure anyone with a pulse knew about that drug interaction. It was a top ten no-no. Omega nurses weren’t common, but it was what all the smart girls did before finding successful husbands. His bright blue eyes searched hers for a moment, before Mel dropped her gaze, her face heating. 

“She’s really quite brilliant,” Gloria said. “I’ve been trying to poach her for months.”

She had. From the moment Mel had reached out to her about the auction, Gloria had tried convincing her to switch her internship to PTMH, citing the stellar reputation for high risk OB support. But Mel had already accepted an offer with the VA, a position she’d earned without citing her Omega status. She wanted one small part of her life not impacted by her designation. If tonight went well, perhaps the funding it secured would allow that: a life less tainted by it. 

“We’ve got to get going,” Gloria said, patting Mel on the hand. “Very nice seeing you both.”

Mel gave a little wave to the couple. The wife tightened her grasp on Dr. Langdon’s arm and whispered something in his ear. Mel could smell a sharp tang of his scent changing, a flash of desire. But she hardly registered it, already moving with Gloria to the next Alpha candidate. She caught a glimpse of Langdon’s Tire pulling out his phone, and wondered if he’d bid on her after all. 

Prostitution of Omegas wasn’t exactly legal but it wasn’t illegal either. No jury in the world would convict an Omega of selling herself for cash. No, Omegas were too docile, too easily manipulated by the far smarter, far more cunning designation. 

Alphas, on the other hand, bore all the risk of legal liability (given the exploitability of the vulnerable), but even then, those with enough money to pay for sex could certainly afford cunning lawyers, and unless it was in writing, iron-clad, charges would never stick. It was hardly a character flaw for an Alpha to want an Omega. Such things were biological. Basic. Omegas were so precious, rare, desirable. 

Gloria pulled her around the room, introducing her to Alpha after Alpha. After a while, they all blended together, a haze of pheromones and desire that set Mel’s teeth on edge. But soon enough, Gloria released her, insisting it would be best for them to miss her. Consider the fact that without ponying up the cash, they’d never see her again. 

Mel grabbed an Uber home. She showered, washing out the copious amounts of hairspray and clearing the mascara from her eyes. But her stomach still twisted, overwhelmed from the scent of so many Alphas. Nauseating, she thought. She changed into pajamas and stayed up watching Netflix with Becca, waiting for the clock to hit midnight like Cinderella. At twelve-oh-five, Gloria texted her:

High bidder. $177,000. Details to follow. 

+

The week after the auction, Gloria texted her a name and address: Dr. Frank Langdon, 1648 Elm Court. Mel Zillowed it first—a sweeping brick mansion neighboring a golf course with a lagoon pool. $3.25 million, purchased in 2021. She Googled him next because she couldn’t remember him. Her stomach clenched with nerves. She expected a sixty-year old, white hair, wrinkled knuckles. This, the person that would take her virginity. 

Oh my, she thought as his picture popped up: ice blue eyes, thirty-something ER attending. She searched her memory of him from the gala. What had he asked her? Something about champagne. Ah, it clicked finally. The hot one with the wife. 

When the $10,000 deposit hit her bank account the following day, Mel texted the number provided: When do you want to meet?

Dr. Langdon didn’t respond directly; instead he added her to a group chat with another unknown number. 

Can you come by the house this weekend? he asked. 

Who is this 412-435-9801? she asked.

Dr. Langdon texted her a picture of him and the Beta from before. Abby, my wife . 

Pretty, she remembered. She wondered if the wife wanted to watch, and if so, whether she should charge extra. $25k? Would they go for that? She hadn’t agreed to any spectators in her original conversation with Gloria, but perhaps this couple wouldn’t mind paying more. 

Mel coordinated the meeting with Dr. Langdon, Abby not commenting on the thread. She arranged for a Saturday evening date with them, where he promised to barbecue. Bring a swimsuit, Dr. Langdon instructed, and Mel took that to mean he’d want to appraise her, inspect the merchandise. She considered getting something new for the occasion, but then decided against it. If he passed on her, it might be weeks before she arranged something with the second bidder, and the $10,000 deposit wouldn’t go far with her rent, living expenses, and Becca’s care. She couldn’t well go out and spend hundreds on new outfits to have him reject her anyway. He’d either like her or not, she decided. 

The day of, she selected a purple sundress to throw over her bikini. Becca begged to go with her, but Mel mollified her by ordering in and promising to watch Mama Mia! with her when she returned. She sprung for an Uber, because the bus certainly didn’t make stops in his multi-million dollar neighborhood. 

Pulling up to his driveway, Mel’s stomach swooped, but she fixed the number in her mind: $177,000. Of which, she’d get 50%. $88.5k. After taxes, she’d net a cool $60k. More than her whole yearly intern salary in just two nights’ work. Plus, with the watching… $85k? Maybe she could spring for a three-day vacation with Becca someplace warm. A direct flight to Miami and a $249 beachfront hotel. 

Mel plucked up the courage and knocked on the front door. The wife opened it, a small child clutching her leg. Mel blinked, a little startled by the little girl. She had her bidder’s eyes, bright blue, and an impish smile. A goldendoodle bounded up to her and licked her calf.

“Hi,” Mel said, more to the girl than the wife. 

Abby appraised her, up and down, and then shouted back into the house. “Sydney’s here!” She gestured for Mel to come in. “We’re out back.”

“Okay,” Mel said, weirded out by Dr. Langdon’s whole wife and kids thing. But she supposed it was better than what she’d done before, lurking around with married men without the family ever suspecting. 

“You want something to drink?” Abby asked. “We’ve got everything but alcohol. Lemonade, soda, water—"

“Lemonade’s fine,” Mel said, checking out their house. It was huge, Tuscan style with thick marble columns and greco-roman frescos. Much cozier than modern houses, Mel thought. Abby led her out back, and the little girl darted from behind her mother’s legs to sprint out onto the lawn. A boy ran towards her pelting her with the spray from a water gun. 

Some of it hit Mel, and she froze, twisting away from it. 

“Knock it off,” Langdon said from across the lawn. His voice sent a thrill through Mel, but she inspected where she’d been hit: mid-thigh, the water soaking her dress. 

Abby winced. “Sorry about that. Kids.”

“It’s okay, I wore my suit,” Mel said, and wondered when they’d want her to strip. She dropped the wet skirt and turned to the direction of Langdon’s voice. He stood by the barbecue, shirtless and wet from the pool, chest dripping. 

Oh, her heart thought, a little flip, because she hadn’t expected for her to be this taken aback by his attractiveness. Even with his picture online. It could’ve been photoshopped. She’d thought she’d have to close her eyes and think of England. But his hair was wet and messy, and she wanted to run her hands through it. She couldn’t really smell him, not from this distance, but she hadn’t remembered his smell bothering her at the auction, nothing odious. They locked eyes for a second, before Mel dropped his gaze, the heat of it uncomfortable. 

“We’ve got steaks, dogs, the whole thing,” Abby said, and led her to a stone table by the grill. They’d set the table with blue and white gingham placemats and melamine dishes. The boy shrieked past, chasing his sister. Next to the outdoor kitchen, a two-story pool house towered over the lawn. It was bigger than her childhood home.

Mel took a seat, only catching a whiff of Langdon— a hint of anger/desire – but the water masked it, tampered it. That, or he only moderately liked her, Mel surmised. Abby gave her her lemonade and set out some chips and salsa for her. Abby’s white swimsuit set off her tan lines. She’s so pretty, Mel thought. But the wife's attitude set her on edge, like she was being overly polite to her because she felt sorry for her. 

“Nice place,” Mel commented. Abby appraised her again, not trying to hide it this time. She crossed her arms over her chest. Mel helped herself to the chips. 

“I don’t believe it,” she said, finally. “Are we getting scammed?”

Mel grabbed a chip. “Scammed?” 

“Abby—” Frank said. 

Abby lowered her voice a register, so the kids wouldn’t hear. “You’ve never had sex?”

Mel coughed, the chip going down her windpipe. Gloria had insisted on featuring her virginity prominently, to attract more buyers. Most Omegas would’ve been long mated. Thus, special. Thus, Abby’s skepticism. Mel gulped some lemonade. 

“Don’t scare her,” Langdon said. 

“I’m not!” Abby said. She gestured to Mel. “She’s just— You’re, what, like thirty?”

“Twenty-five,” Mel said. 

Abby crossed her arms over her chest. “And?”

Mel blinked, trying to think of an age-appropriate way to explain. She faced away from the kids, who were sprinting across the lawn. “I mean, just—” she mouthed ORAL facing away from them. “I had two professors in college, one in med school. That’s how I paid my rent.”

Mel’s cheeks reddened. She didn’t exactly like talking about her past clients, but she owed them the truth for the amount of money they were dropping on her. Potentially dropping, she corrected herself. 

“Med school?” Langdon asked, with his eyebrows rising. “I thought you were a nurse.”

Mel winced. “They— uh—Gloria said that would sound better.“ Mel stuffed her face with chips and nodded, and then shrugged in Langdon’s direction. 

“Med school,” he said again. “Did you graduate?”

“I’m starting my internship at a place downtown,” Mel said, which she hoped was vague enough to describe the VA. “OB, but I’ve got some rotations planned in pediatrics and family medicine.”

She’d picked OB because it was the specialty with the highest number of Omega MDs, bolstered by the purpose of increasing the number of successful O pregnancies. Plus, in the terrible event she ever did have to pick a mate, her future Alpha might allow it—all the patients would likely be mated, docile, and focused on their own lives.

“And that’s all that happened?” Abby asked, clearly hung up on the oral thing. “What? We’re paying a premium—”

We’re paying - Mel caught the intonation. 

Mel scooped a big dollop of salsa with a tortilla chip and held it up. “I’ve always had a hard time with scenting,” she said, gesturing to the dollop. “Most Omegas could tell you, there’s cilantro and jalapeños and onions, but I can’t really—” she took a bite and chewed, considering. “I could tell you it’s salsa, but that’s about it.”

Abby puzzled at her. 

“I’m on the spectrum,” Mel said. “I get all the same information. I can smell it but I can’t interpret it into what most people can.” She couldn’t tell when Langdon and his wife had sex last, for example. In theory, that was really mostly smelling the pheromones of bodily fluids and connecting it to a timeframe, but she had no idea. She couldn’t really tell if he wanted her. She could smell anger/desire, one end of the binary, and stress/fear on the other, but that was about it. She could only determine black and white when other Omegas could smell a technicolor world. 

She wondered with her neurodivergence what would she do if she met someone truly perfect for her? If one of the Alphas at the auction should’ve won over Dr. Langdon, who happened to be easily the most attractive one there, so lucky her. She could’ve met her true mate a thousand times, she reasoned.

Or once.

Or never at all. 

“Oh,” Abby said, a little mollified, radiating a touch of stress/fear.

Mel turned to her, facing her directly. “I just— I didn’t really think it was ever really safe if you know what I mean. To do anything if I really couldn’t tell what they were thinking… With my professors, I had leverage. I could report them if they went too far. The whole student thing. And most of them had tenure and tons of money from private practice, so…” She shrugged. She’d charged $5k a pop. 

Plus, she didn’t want a mate, not ever. She’d figured out how to control her heats so that she could keep that temptation at bay from her clients and, perhaps most importantly, herself. Otherwise, her blossoming scent could be construed as an invitation. Not safe, not smart. 

Langdon walked over to her and held out his wrist. “Here,” he said, offering it to her. 

Mel took it, a little surprised by the intimacy of the gesture in front of his partner, but she took a sniff: chlorine, first and foremost. Anger/desire, second. She glanced at his face. His features were relaxed, but focused on her. Unlikely he was angry he’d been tricked about the oral, she decided. Pleasant, but not terribly alluring in either direction. She dropped his wrist, wondering if he wanted hers. 

He answered her unspoken question by leaning down, scenting her neck. She stilled, letting him. His scent spiked, the anger/desire marker rising, but not dramatically, not overwhelmingly. 

Leaning close, he whispered into the shell of her ear, his lips grazing her skin. “On a scale of one to one-hundred, how badly do you think I want to fuck you, right now?”

The touch made her shiver a little, but he leaned back to appraise her. It had never been like this with her other clients– the thrill, the hum of desire under her own skin. 

“The chlorine doesn’t help,” Mel said, grabbing her lemonade. She took a sip. “50-50,” she said, after a moment’s consideration. 

Langdon laughed, and turned to his wife. “50-50, she said.”

Abby made a yuck face. “Go rinse off. I’ll flip.” She turned to the grill. “How do you take your steak?”

“Medium,” Mel said. 

Langdon clapped her on the shoulder. “Not dealing with Alphas—that was very, very smart of you,” he said. He turned to the pool and did a running jog into it, cannon-balling into the deep. A second later, he came up, flipping his hair and smiling at her. 

Abby deposited a steak on her plate. “Corn on the cob, salad, fruit,” she said, gesturing to the spread on the counter covered in foil. “Millie! Tanner! Dinner!”

The kids came running and sat down on either side of her. “I want two dogs,” Tanner said. “Extra ketchup, extra mustard.”

Millie just stared at her, her curly blonde hair wet and sticking to her face. She might’ve been five or six, Mel guessed. Tanner seven or eight. Mel tucked into her food, happy to have at least been fed. 

Langdon kept glancing at her at dinner, but it wasn’t anything leering, nothing overtly sexual. Curious, most likely, Mel thought. Abby too— they shared little glances with each other, which Mel ignored. She didn’t need to understand them or their strange dynamic of allowing an Omega into their bed. She just needed the cash, pure and simple. 

Midway through, Langdon leaned over on his elbows. “What size needle would you use for a lumbar puncture?”

“Depends on the patient,” Mel said. 

Langdon nodded to Tanner. “His size.”

“Two to twelve years old, 22-gauge.”

“What if he’s thirteen?”

“I’m seven and a half, daddy,” Tanner said. 

“Still 22,” Mel said. “Because he’d be a very petite thirteen-year-old. Small pockets.”

Langdon leaned back. “Intern year, huh.”

He seemed to chew on her answer, and didn’t ask anything else. 

“I’ll put them down,” Abby said at the end of the meal, gesturing to the children with their sticky faces. “Good to see you again, Sydney.”

“Likewise,” Mel said, as Abby shepherded the children away. By now, the sun was just starting to set in the sky, a light dusk falling across the patio. Mel stood with her dirty plate, but Langdon told her to leave it. 

“Wanna get in?” he asked her, gesturing to the pool. He got in before waiting for her response. 

Mel nodded, taking that as her cue to strip. She untied her sundress and shimmied out of it, the air cool against her skin. Her skin prickled with little goosebumps, but she placed it on the bench. She wondered if Langdon wanted her to model it for him, but decided he’d ask if he did. She entered the pool, wincing as the cool water hit her. 

“If you don’t want me, I can go to the next bidder,” she said, with more bravery than she really felt. 

“I didn’t say that,” he said. Mel swam to the center of the pool, treading water as he followed her. 

“Does she want to watch?” Mel asked, gesturing to the house. 

Langdon laughed. “No, she doesn’t. Do you allow that?”

“Not normally.” Relief washed over her. A Redditor had commented: Do you really care about the other people on a roller coaster ride? when she’d researched it, if having an observer would bother her during heat. But it was infinitely better to keep it simple. Him and her. 

“What’s normal?” Langdon asked, and she noted the tension in his face, a stiffening across his features. 

Alphas, as a rule, didn’t like sharing. 

“Oral sex. Three men in total.” 

“How often?” 

Mel stilled. She felt a little pull from her inner Omega instincts, submit , she thought. “Once a month,” she said. “It wasn’t so bad.” 

“I assume—” Langdon cleared his throat. “I assume, financially—?”

Mel nodded. “Not really many jobs I could do that would pay enough to matter. Plus I’ve got $350k worth of student loans accruing interest.”

She didn’t want to mention Becca and the financial reality that had she not turned to prostitution, she would’ve had to surrender Becca to the state and then live in poverty herself. Or find a wealthy Alpha to mate, a kind of bondage in and of itself. She simply couldn’t pay Becca’s $2,000-a-month care, plus rent, plus tuition, plus food, plus everything else on any other salary. Thirty minutes in a dusty office, and she’d pocket enough to cover everything, plus a little savings on the side. 

“You could find someone— I know a dozen men—“ 

Mel sighed. “I value my independence.” And her career, something most Alphas certainly wouldn’t allow. Her, touching other Alphas. Her, unsupervised. Her, doing something other than bearing his children. 

“Fair enough,” Langdon said, and then, “Come here.”

It wasn’t exactly a command, not emphasized, but Mel hesitated. She took a deep breath, pushing out the nerves as she exhaled. She’d known she’d have to touch him eventually and she’d thought about it, but it didn’t make it any easier to actually do it. 

But maybe that’s why she’d picked medicine. As a first responder, she’d have to run into situations that scared her, and this was no different, so she swam up to him, and he steadied her at the waist, pulling her to his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself up so he could scent her again, nosing at the column of her neck. How he could smell anything on her, with the high stench of chlorine, she didn’t know. 

She’d danced like this in high school, a long time ago, but the comparisons flew out of her mind when he cupped her bottom, pulling her up, so she wrapped her legs around him like he wanted, a low rumble of approval coming from him. His skin was warm, and the water cool and lapping at her sides. It was incredibly relaxing, to be so weightless, her body thrumming with approval at his touch. 

His eyes searched her face before he kissed her, a burst of joy flickering in her chest as she tasted him, warm and deep. Her first kiss. Fantastic. She’d already given so much of herself away, with her professors, so she slipped into the fantasy of this as a particularly charged first date.

She clung to his shoulders, holding on tight as he slotted his head to the side and kissed her deeply, and her mind spun from the softness of his lips, the feel of his tongue, the taste of him, the curl of heat it caused in her belly.

He palmed under her bikini bottoms, feeling the curve of her ass, down her thighs, gripping and stroking. Then he tugged at her top, undoing the strings, lifting her a little higher to kiss and bite at her breasts. He turned his attention to each, sucking, then a soft lick.

“Oh,” Mel said, this a departure from her internal script for the night. A kiss, yes, expected. This, his mouth on her pink nipples, and his dark hair under her hands as he sucked. Her lower stomach tightened again, a wordless clench of pleasure, overwhelming, so she pulled him up by his hair to her mouth again. 

Mel hiked herself up, dragging his cock against her bottoms. There, she was practically climbing him, her hands cupping his face, stubble under her palms, chasing him back to her mouth. Oh, it has to be the pheromones, she thought, the taste of him making her crazy.

It would be so easy, she thought, for him to take her like this. The thought short-circuited her rationality, caution discarded, confusion lifted for thirty seconds in perfect clarity: yes, she wanted him. Yes, she’d let him have her. 

“I’ll go into heat next month,” Mel said, forcing herself to break away, voice thick. “I can get you the dates if you want.”

That seemed to mollify him, and he turned, pulling her towards the shallow end and depositing her there. He went under, fishing her top from the depths and handing it to her.

“Is that a yes?” Mel asked as he resurfaced. 

Langdon turned away from her, laughing. “Jesus fuck, yes.”

“Okay,” Mel said, and got out of the pool, not bothering to put it back on. She stepped out of her bottoms and grabbed the towel from her bag, drying herself quickly and efficiently. If he wanted to see her body, he could, she thought. Then she pulled back on her sundress, her skin still a little too wet. She glanced up at the house and noticed Abby’s silhouette on the patio, illuminated by the bright kitchen lights. 

“I thought you said she wasn’t going to watch,” Mel said. 

Langdon glanced at the main house. “She won’t. She’s just curious about you.”

“Kind of a weird dynamic between you two,” Mel said, trying to sound as neutral as possible. “Not many wives would be thrilled about this.”

“I’ve been sober for five years. This is my reward.”

Ah, Mel thought. That’s it. That forced her to clamp down on the burst of arousal she’d felt with him earlier. 

Not many Alphas would admit to as much out loud, but many viewed Omegas as a commodity, an asset to buy and hoard. That’s why she’d had so much luck finding Alphas willing to pay for her. They deemed it an entitlement; the only hiccup was the scarcity of the Omega population that prevented them from having what they thought they deserved. She chastised herself for getting her hopes up earlier with Frank. No, she rarely counted on Alphas because they so often disappointed her. She should’ve known better. Her body: he wanted it, and he’d have it. 

“Congratulations,” Mel said, and pulled out her phone. She clicked into Uber and sat on a lounge chair. “You’ll need to tell Gloria you want to do it and she’ll release the funds. No refunds, after that.”

“You’ll halve your debt,” Langdon said. 

Mel shook her head. “I only get fifty percent. Then, taxes.”

“You’re only getting fifty percent?” 

Mel shrugged. “Gloria found all the buyers. She vetted them. I just showed up.”

Safety, that's what Gloria promised. Vetted, clean, sane Alpha partners. Well worth the fee, in Mel's mind. 

Gobsmacked, Langdon opened his mouth before closing it, and coughing a little. He gestured to her phone, “What’s that?”

Mel flashed the screen at him. “Uber.”

“Abby will drive you,” he said, and whistled. Abby startled, straightening, before walking over. “You got the kids down?” he asked her. 

“Instant,” Abby said. “Swimming always knocks them out.”

“I’ll stay with them. You’ll drive her home?” 

Abby nodded, and gestured for Mel to follow her. Mel’s half-wet dress made her shiver when they entered the AC. Frank noticed, and gestured for Abby to join him upstairs.

“I’ll get you a jacket,” he said. “Wait here.” Again, it wasn’t an order, no intonation to try to compel Mel, but she turned and leaned against the counter, waiting. She imagined he and his wife were having the final conversation about her, deciding if $177k was fair.

They returned sometime later, and Langdon tossed her a hoodie with PTMH on it. Mel caught it and pulled it on. It smelled like him. The fabric sat on on top of her tacky, damp skin and she wanted to peel it off, the texture all wrong, but then she got a flash of what his tongue had felt like against the roof of her mouth and the way it made her feel tingly down to her toes, and she realized no matter how she felt: scared or turned on, timid or ready, she’d be sleeping with him soon regardless. This, the trade she’d made for financial independence.

“Thanks. It was nice meeting you,” Mel said to him, remembering her manners. 

Langdon snorted and shook his head. 

They entered a massive five-car garage and Abby took the keys to an Audi off the wall. 

“There might be French fries on the floor,” Abby warned her, “but at least it’s not a stick.” She nodded to the two other cars: a Skittles-red convertible and a racing green Range Rover. 

Mel didn’t care about the mess, and climbed into the front seat of the Audi. “You’re really okay with this?” she asked, genuinely curious as they pulled out of the driveway. It was dark, and the headlights illuminated Langdon’s silhouette in the garage.  It made Mel’s stomach flip. 

“You’re offering something I can’t, so…” Abby shrugged. “It’s a bucket list kind of thing.”

Mel folded her hands in her lap. “That’s very mature of you.”

Abby was, in fact, right. Biologically, a Beta could never provide the experience of an Omega heat. And because Omegas were so rare, around 5% of the population, mathematically all the Alphas (20%) could never be matched to enough of them. 

“You really can’t smell anything?” Abby asked her. 

Mel shrugged and nodded. “I’ve made peace with it. I’m good at other things. I can scent Parkinson’s, and I’ve got training in Texas for different types of cancers. That’s not— That’s not exclusive to me though. All Omegas could do it with some training, but it’s obviously a very niche kind of skill. Most aren’t interested.”

“Most probably have babies,” Abby said, but her voice wasn’t unkind, it wasn't accusatory. More of a statement of fact. 

“It’s actually a little ideal that he already has a bonded partner,” Mel said by way of agreement. 

Abby glanced over at her. “I could set you up with some decent guys. Rich, too.”

“Frank— Dr. Langdon?” Mel didn’t know what to call him. “He said the same thing.”

“Frank,” Abby said. “Only his patients call him Dr. Langdon.”

“I could go to a matchmaker if I really wanted,” Mel said. “Plus I’ve got the list from Gloria of all the bidders, so I could start there.”

“But you’re not interested in that.” 

“No—I’m not ready to be bonded, have babies, all that.” Mel said. 

Abby sighed. “That’s smart. Really smart. Frank and I got married at twenty, and it was too young.” She drummed her hands on the steering wheel as they pulled up to a red light. “We’re in a semi-open relationship, just so you know.”

“Makes sense,” Mel said, although it absolutely, positively did not make any sense. Alphas didn’t like sharing their partners, even if they were Betas. Reddit confirmed this. Mel couldn’t imagine a universe where he’d let another man touch Abby, but perhaps it was one-sided? Frank could run around with impunity while Abby stayed home with the kids? It wasn’t really her problem to decipher, however. 

Abby turned back to the red light. “We think you should come over sometime before the heat — it’ll be in the pool house. You can walk around and see if you’re comfortable there.”

“Ah,” Mel said. So they did want her. Or at least, Frank did. 

“How much?” Abby said. “We’ll pay you directly, no middleman.”

“To have sex with him, first,” Mel corrected, finally understanding Abby’s request. She leaned against the window, thinking. The whole night had tired her out, and the hoodie smelled like Frank—a confusing, but slightly pleasant sensation of being close to this phantom Alpha. 

“It’ll probably be less intimidating, for you. I won’t be involved. I’ll be up at the main house with the kids the whole time. Or I’ll take them to my parents.”

It was a kindness, Mel knew. She’d never had a partnered heat, and likely would get overwhelmed. She’d figured she’d just power through it, the proverbial roller coaster barrel rolling whether she was screaming or not.

“Twenty-five,” Mel decided. The same premium she’d hoped to get earlier. She’d go down to ten if they asked. 

Abby nodded and Mel instantly knew she’d gone far too low, to get an instant yes, not a Let me think about it, let me call Frank, that kind of thing. 

“That’s fair. Text us your bank details and I’ll get it transferred.”

“Okay,” Mel said, settling back in her seat. They were nearly at her apartment complex. 

“You don’t need to worry about Frank. He’s not going to hurt you,” Abby said. “He’s a good guy.”

“I got that sense,” Mel said. What with the kids and the goldendoodle and the water guns. “You have a really nice family.”

Abby’s mouth twisted a little, like she wanted to say something in response, but Mel pointed out her building, and Abby navigated into the parking garage. Gloria had pre-screened all the bidders, so Mel knew Frank wouldn't hurt her, just like Abby said. Respectable people, that's what Gloria promised. But maybe it bugged Abby, to have this paid interloper in their picture perfect family. Maybe she wasn't as on-board as she wanted Mel to think. 

“Your side hustle pays for all this?” Abby asked. 

Mel shrugged. “Discounted rate. Developers want single Omegas in the building.”

“You really get a lot of mileage out of that, don’t you?”

“It’s really all I have to leverage,” Mel said. “I don’t have a career yet. So...” She pulled her stuff together. “It was nice meeting you, Abby.”

“Yeah,” Abby said in return, and Mel hopped out. She key-carded into the lobby and waited for the elevator. Once the Audi pulled away, Mel took off the hoodie and stuck it in her tote bag. Then she considered if it were worse to be standing in her apartment lobby half-wet in a sundress, no underwear, shivering, so she pulled it back on. She didn’t know what she’d say to Becca about it. 

On the elevator ride up, a single Alpha leered at her. Mel shifted from foot to foot, until her phone dinged with a text from Gloria:

Your high bidder would like to proceed. Funds will be released within the next week. Pleasure doing business with you.