Chapter 2

Vaughn scrolled through the questionnaire as we drove to the airport, reviewing. “Three weeks? You sure about this, Joel?”

It wasn’t the first time they’d asked if I was sure. A fair question, given we usually didn’t take jobs longer than a single event. A weekend at most. Three weeks was unheard of, and yet…

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

Strangest phone call of my life, but I had a feeling. Deep down, I couldn’t say no to her. The woman on the phone had been crying. Pretending not to cry, but crying while she explained what she needed.

Vaughn chuckled again. “I like this comment. I missed it the first time.”

“Which one?” Cade asked.

“Before the sexual preferences. ‘I’m filling this out, but you don’t need to read it. I’m not hiring you for sex, so get it out of your heads. I’m done with men for the foreseeable future.’”

We all laughed a little. Not that we were bothered by it. If a client didn’t want that, it was fine. We were there for what they needed, not the other way around. If she didn’t want sex, there wouldn’t be sex.

But I wasn’t about to pretend that part—and many other parts—of the questionnaire hadn’t caught our attention.

“Everyone got your identities ready to go?” I asked.

“Yes, sir.” Hawk gave me a mock salute.

Usually it didn’t matter. The jobs were so short that picking a name and a career was all that was needed. But for this we needed to be real. There couldn’t be slip-ups. Another reason we didn’t usually do events that involved client’s families.

Apparently I was breaking all the rules now.

Our suitcases were in the back of the car, ready to go to Isolde’s parents’ house. I didn’t know anyone who planned three weeks of things leading up to a wedding, but then again, not many people living on Clarity Coast were normal. The wealthy, the eccentric, and the artists.

I guessed this family was the former.

Rowan pulled the SUV into the parking garage and I grabbed the little sign with her name. “Ready?”

“Sure thing, boss,” Hawk said with a smirk.

I shook my head but couldn’t stop the smile. Pulling out my phone, I texted the number Isolde gave us.

JOEL

We’ve arrived and will be waiting at baggage claim.

We gathered near the escalator and waited. Her flight would be arriving any minute now.

“Anyone want to quiz me?” Hawk asked.

Rowan raised a single eyebrow. “Quiz you?”

“On the fake identity.”

“Yes,” Cade laid the sarcasm on thick. “Because when our client comes down the escalator and walks up to us we want to be reviewing the details of your fake identity.”

My phone buzzed.

ISOLDE

Just landed. Will be there soon.

“She landed.”

“Did you manage to bump all your classes?” Vaughn asked Cade.

He shook his head. “No. But she made it seem like there would be some days where we weren’t needed. I can fit them in around this.”

Hawk crossed his arms. “Just don’t let Isolde see your rope bag.”

“Based on the questionnaire, Isolde might very much want to see Cade’s rope bag,” I said.

Under the very long lists of interests we included, rope, bondage, and a host of other things were checked off. But the shibari classes Cade taught weren’t a part of his persona, and since she didn’t want sex, it wasn’t going to come up.

Rowan stretched. “It was a good list.”

It was.

A damn good list.

But we weren’t looking for something permanent. Our dream of an Omega had died. Been there, done that, watched the ship sail into the fucking sunset.

After matchmakers, dates, well-meaning friends and family didn’t find us one, it wasn’t likely. It hurt, the empty nest in our home pulsing like a bruise. But with jobs like this, we all got to fulfill the pieces of our instincts that longed to protect and care for someone. It wasn’t enough, but it was the best we had, and it hurt less when we set the terms.

This arrangement was better for everyone involved.

Vaughn nudged my shoulder with his. “Incoming.”

I looked up and did a double take. The woman in front of us was stunningly beautiful. Fiery red hair that was slightly messy, like she’d just woken up. Or used a bed in a more fun way. Leggings which clung like a second skin, showing lush hips that could only mean an ass that was worth worshipping.

Her teeth worried her lower lip like she was nervous as she approached.

And then it hit me.

Her scent.

The first thing I smelled were roses, but it wasn’t just that. Something deeper and even more floral, with a darker undertone of sex and secrets.

Omega.

Every instinct I had flared to life, and every thought of our dream being dead evaporated like morning mist. I smiled at her, but inside I was straining to break free and haul her into my arms and just fucking breathe. The way Vaughn stood rigid beside me told me enough.

This little Omega was our scent match.

Our client.

The woman we were going to pretend to be in love with for three weeks.

A woman who made it clear she wanted absolutely nothing to do with sex—or us—outside of the arrangement.

Who had no idea what was happening to us, because for Omegas, scent matches only manifested during heat.

She had no idea that she walked up to the five of us and turned our entire lives upside down with a single breath.

And fuck me, all I wanted to do was drop to my knees between her legs and be a throne for her to sit on like a queen.

“Umm, hi.”

“You must be Isolde.” How I managed to keep my voice from shaking, or myself from purring, I had no idea.

“Yeah,” she laughed nervously. “That’s me.”

I held out a hand. “I’m Joel.”

Vaughn’s head whipped toward me when I told her my real name, and I sensed the shock going through my pack, but I couldn’t lie to her. No matter what happened, I wasn’t going to spend the next three weeks pretending to be someone I wasn’t while this Omega was with us. She was ours.

So fucking rare.

And we couldn’t even tell her. Not without scaring her away and trampling all over the very clear boundary she set.

We would have to show her.

Her hand was so small in mine, soft and warm. “It’s good to meet you.”

I just managed to get myself together enough to move aside so the others could introduce themselves. On their faces I saw the same awe. Except for Cade, who looked at the four of us like we’d each just grown a second head.

We all used our real names.

The blush on her cheeks while she shook each hand was intoxicating. So she wasn’t entirely immune.

Good.

That was good.

Hawk turned away from Isolde and asked quietly, “What the fuck are we going to do?”

“I have absolutely no idea.”

Rowan’s hand came down on my shoulder, voice equally low. “We’re going to go to this party and do our job. It’s going to be a hell of a lot easier to act like we’re together. And after? Then we figure it out.”

We didn’t need a discussion to be on the same page.

She wasn’t a client.

She wasn’t a job.

She was absolutely everything.

Isolde Allen was our Omega, and we had three weeks to prove it.