Page 3 of His Pretty Little Thief

I nod. “Yeah, of course.”

She swallows. “Okay, there’s this… organization, or company or something. They call themselves The Agency. And, I’m kind of working for them.”

I frown. “Okay. So, why is this a secret?”

She looks away, and my frown deepens.

“Bianca, is this place safe? I mean, is the work legal?”

She starts to nod eagerly but stops herself.

“Um…”

My jaw drops again.

“Bianca! What the hell are you mixed up in?”

“Okay! Okay!” she groans. “Look, it’s not drugs are anything like that. And it’s probably at least half legal.”

“Bianca,” I mutter. “What is the job?”

She blushes, looking away and playing with her cuticles for a minute before her shoulders slump.

“Okay, I’m going to tell you this, but I can’t even begin to stress how important it is that it stays secret. I’m serious, Bianca. I could get in a lot of trouble for even talking about it.

I nod, and she looks away.

“Okay, you’ve heard of a sperm bank, right?”

My nose wrinkles. “I guess I have? You mean the places people go when they can’t conceive naturally.”

Bianca nods. “Well, The Agency is kind of like that.”

I make a face. “You’re working at a sperm bank?”

She bites her lip. “Not exactly. Okay, so at a regular sperm bank, as long as you don’t have some terrible disease or horrible family medical history, and aren’t on drugs or something, you’re good to go. But that means any guy can just walk in off the streets and… you know. Well, The Agency is like a sperm bank but crazy expensive and exclusive. It’s for people who want a sperm donor, but don’t want any old guy with a decent education and looks. People who want and can afford the best.”

I frown. “And who’s the best?”

She chews on her lip. “The elite. The wealthy CEOs who also won the gene pool in the looks department. Royalty. Sports stars, movie stars—that kind of thing.”

“Hang on, rich celebrities don’t donate their sperm to sperm banks, even exclusive ones.”

Bianca bites her lip. “Yeah, well…” She smiles weakly at me.

“Maybe not knowingly, they don’t.”

“Wait, what?”

Bianca scuffs at the floor nervously as she avoids my eyes. “You know what, never mind It’s hard to exp—”

“Bianca.”

My friend groans, looking flustered. “Okay, Simone, you cannot tell a single freaking person, okay? I mean it. Seriously.”

“Okay! Jeez, I get it. So, tell me exactly what this new job is that’s turned you into a glamour queen.”

She sighs heavily one last time before she looks up, her eyes meeting mine.

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