Page 13 of Not Ready

It’s not difficult to understand why he feels so compelled to fix her problems. She seems quite delicate, even for an omega.

I gesture to the couch she vacated a few minutes ago. “Have a seat. I’m sure Bishop is on his way as we speak.” Which is a disaster in its own right. He’s been heading up one of our most sensitive cases. I need his head in the game and him on site, but even I know there’s no way he stayed put. I’m expecting him any time, but I have something to handle before he makes an appearance. “I have a proposition for you.”

Am I taking advantage of the situation?

Probably, but also, she spoke to my mother—the one person who terrifies me even more fully than my fathers.

“I’m not an escort,” she snaps, swiping long blonde hair away from her face. “Shit, I don’t think that’s the right word. I’m not a sex worker. Okay, not an in-person sex worker.”

“Good, that’s not what I’m in need of, anyway,” I assure her, nodding to the sofa. “Please, sit.”

I’m intrigued.

She’s most definitely the woman who has Bishop wrapped around her finger.

Then again, women are generally terrified of him.

I won’t be pleased if she’s been stringing him along.

He’s one of my best mates.

We’ve been friends for years, but he’s a giant softy when it comes to women and an absolute battering ram when we need him in the field.

Vale is beautiful, objectively that’s clear.

Although acknowledging that seems to be giving me indigestion.

I readjust my tie, gently pushing against the ache in my stomach.

Is that her discomfort I’m picking up on?

It must be, right?

It’s rather unsettling.

Her strawberries and cream scent is currently quite tart, which indicates she’s stressed or anxious.

An itchy feeling takes over, trying to convince me that I need to obliterate all her problems right fucking now.

I don’t often fall prey to my impulses, but seeing the omega so uncomfortable has me on the verge of acting rashly. I haven’t spent my life being ruthlessly methodic in every choice to indulge my instincts now.

She huffs, placing herself down on the couch cushion. “Go on, please. I’m sorry I made assumptions.”

“I can only imagine how hectic things have been for you. Hopefully, we can alleviate some of that stress.” I take the seat next to her again.

She scoffs, rubbing her swollen stomach.

“Listen, I understand things are complicated and you’re likely feeling some anxiety.” Which, now that I’ve said it aloud, might qualify as the understatement of the century. “Bishop sent you here for a reason. You don’t need to worry. He’s one of my best friends and a close confidant. We have a staff full of ex-military and mercenaries. I can assure you that you will be safe with us.”

I frown.

Damn, I’m not supposed to be bringing Bishop up.

I need her to forget about him, be distracted by my money, and agree to my terms, all before he can arrive and snatch her up.

I clear my throat and go on. “I need a fake fiancée, as you’ve likely surmised. You’ve already been introduced to the most suspicious family member, and now I’m stuck. If you fill that role for me for the next six months”—I stare directly into her eyes—“you’ll have a place to live, meals, necessities, and clothing will be provided. Not to mention, the generous financial package. I’ll be increasing that to two hundred thousand per six months. It’s only fair.” I gesture to her stomach. “There are two of you, so twice the compensation seems appropriate.”

Her jaw falls as she leans forward. “What would I do after the six months are up? There’s no guarantee Andrew will disappear.”

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