Page 59 of Heat Me

When I finally arrived, Star’s place turned out to be a tiny studio apartment in a modest condominium. I wasn’t ready forthis conversation—not in my state of mind. I felt like I was failing at everything; with Damien, with my commitment to Fate's Choice clients, with my life in general…

When I knocked, the door opened, and a rather tall omega greeted me.

He looked different from his photo, where he’d been wearing makeup, but his beauty was still striking. His smooth, pearl-like skin and full pink lips stood out, and even without makeup, his dark, thick lashes framed his eyes. Objectively, he was very attractive—but he wasn’t Damien.

His blond hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and he wore a plain gray sweatshirt.

Star didn’t look like the stereotypical sex worker; his energy felt more ‘office clerk’ than someone involved in the entertainment industry. But I remembered from his personal info in the database that he'd quit the strip club a year ago and was now working as a phone consultant from home. His outfit made sense.

What struck me most was his expression—it was completely still, almost mask-like. His eyes seemed nearly black, boring sharply into my face.

"Storm Nolan," I introduced myself, shaking his hand. His grip was faint, his hand dry and stiff, like wood. With that kind of attitude, could he even attract a client? Or had something changed him?

Without a word, he stepped back, letting me into the room, which served as both his bedroom and living room, with only a small kitchenette off to the side.

"So, what brings you here, Mr. Nolan?" he asked sternly, his expression indifferent.

Star's eyes were somewhat disturbing—completely motionless, like a shark's. Up close, I could see they were a darknavy blue, not black as it could seem. They reminded me of a starry, polar night, and they sent a shiver down my spine.

People froze to death under such a sky, right? Many times!

"Yes, well…" I swallowed, feeling like I shouldn’t be here. I should be with Damien, holding him in my arms and helping him through his recovery.

It was awful, like I had post-heat recovery depression myself, even though it didn’t affect alphas. Some felt physically tired from the hormone flood, but mood swings weren’t typical.

"To be honest, I came here to have a conversation with you about additional options for finding you a perfect partner, but I—" I paused, clearing my throat once, then again. Fuck. This was bad. "I’m in a difficult situation, so forgive me if I come across as unprepared. I had to leave my partner in recovery, and I’m really struggling…" I blurted out with unnecessary honesty, looking away.

Yep. I was behaving like an idiot—totally unprofessional. He couldn’t care less about what was happening to me. But I just couldn’t stop thinking about Damien! I wanted to break free, run out of the apartment, and rush back to my little redheaded omega… My ball of cuteness!

Star stayed silent, his eyes as still as a statue’s. He didn’t even blink. Of course. I shouldn’t have expected any sympathy from him.

I shook myself out of that miserable state. "I apologize for this. It’s not your concern. Please forgive me. I’ll get to the matter I came here to discuss so you can make a decision."

"I hope it’s a good proposition because, for the past six months, I haven’t received a single pairing from you guys," he said, his tone consistently cold, completely ignoring my earlier emotional outburst and my embarrassing confession.

I blinked nervously because he was absolutely right.

"I apologize for that too. I wasn’t employed at the company back then, but now I’m here, and I have a plan that includes you—"

"Go on then. I hope it’s areallygood plan," he said crudely.

For a moment, I wondered how someone with such unapproachable mannerisms could work in any kind of service—whether as a consultant or an escort. Then again, maybe he played a completely different person in those roles, putting on a fake persona for clients. Was he living some kind of… double life?

Well, he wouldn’t tempt me, that was for sure. Despite his striking looks, he wasn’t my type. I preferred petite redheads—chubby ones with rose-shaped birthmarks!

"On Saturday, the fair begins—"

"No."

Hearing his sharp tone, I froze. "But you don’t even know what I’m going to say."

"I refuse to participate in any auction, fair, or expo—whatever you want to call it. I made it clear during my first meeting with your company. No shows. I’m not a horse or cattle to be sold."

He definitely viewed these events in a very old-fashioned way. I stared at him for a moment. Why did I even bother coming here? What a waste of time.

So, I glanced out the window at the neighboring building. Its gray wall loomed close, dull and uninteresting. Mindlessly, I stared at it… and my mind went blank.

Damien… I wanted to see him. I needed to see him.

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