Page 1 of Dubious Match
Prologue
HOLLIS
I’m on a mission as I pull my suitcase down the hall toward my new apartment. It’s nothing extravagant, just a very modest one bedroom in the city, but it’s mine.
I’m eighteen today, and while my life isn’t terrible, I’ve always itched to be someone different. My parents are overprotective, trying to find every way possible to get me to stay home longer, but I have a vision.
I don’t want to be the mafia daughter anymore. I want to be someone who contributes to the world. If I stay home, I’ll always be sheltered, protected, and limited by my family’s wishes.
Blowing out a breath as I unlock the door to my new apartment, I tell myself that it’s fine that it’s unfurnished. I’ll set up a tiny nest in the closet until I can afford everything else. I refuse to take my family’s money, knowing it will come with strings.
I have eight hundred dollars saved, and I just spent most of that on one month’s rent. The landlord agreed to waive theobligatory first three months of rent when he saw how desperate I was. I heard about this opening when I was leaving the house on my birthday, and I didn’t have a back up plan.
I’m bold, stupid, and pretty fucking determined. It has to get me somewhere other than dead.
Pushing open the door, I gaze around at the empty room, forcing my feet to move. Locking the door behind me, I take a deep breath, gagging on the dust around me. Oh no, that’s not going to work.
I took cleaning supplies from the house without blinking an eye, because I had a feeling this would happen. I’m not too proud to not have also taken several rolls of toilet paper as well as my most precious possession: my laptop.
Lips pursed, I unpack my cleaning supplies and get to work so I can set up my nest in my closet. The rest of the apartment doesn’t really matter to me. I need to get settled as quickly as possible so I can start making a living.
I know what I want, how to get it, and nothing is going to get in my way. Call me silly or whatever else, but I have an idea that’s going to change the way people date. My parents have been talking about setting me up with a pack since I presented as an omega at sixteen, and that’s part of why I left.
Why should parents choose an omega’s pack? Ever since they told me about their idea of what was right, I started to plan my own path. I know how I’m going to get the capital, and the legalities of that are something I’m going to ignore.
Collapsing into my closet with my laptop once my apartment is sparkling clean, surrounded by blankets and my favorite pillow, I get to work. As much as I want to be someone different, some things will stay the same.
Namely, the way I turn a blind eye to criminal activities. I guess you can take the mafia girl out of the mafia, but the habits are ingrained forever.
One
Ten years later
HOLLIS
Pushing back from my desk, I sigh under my breath as I look at the chaos currently on it. Business is doing really well, I’m helping people find love, security, and happiness, but at the end of the day I always feel a little hollow.
Everyone else gets to have this, but I know it’s not in the cards for me. I don’t deserve it, I’m too broken to know what to do with it if I got it, which is why I work so hard to provide a safe environment for omegas to meet packs. While I do have my online dating app, I am currently setting up an in person mixer which is more difficult than you’d think.
A knock on my office door pulls my attention up toward it, and my lips curl a little with affection as I see my visitor. I wasn’t expecting him. Hopefully, he’ll provide a good distraction.
Standing, I walk over to the glass door and unlock it. The downfall of being on a busy street and having all glass windowsis that there is no privacy, and you can’t be closed unless you’re gone for the day.
“Hello, Cian,” I say, opening the door for him.
“Were you on your way home yet?” he asks, hesitating.
My home is a lonely loft apartment that’s a hell of an upgrade from my first one with no one waiting for me. It doesn’t matter if I was planning to leave yet or not.
“Not yet,” I say with a smile. “Come in, tell me why you’re stopping by.”
Part of me hopes that one day he’ll come through my door for himself. He’s been single for over two years, and seems to always be busy. I know what that’s like though, always helpful, and willing to have my ear bent. It’s a sign of loneliness.
“I told the Senior Members Committee that I would check in on how the dating mixer is going,” he says formally as I relock the door behind him.
An unladylike snort escapes as I hold my hand out for him to follow me to the couches I have set up for meetings and consultations. His words tickle me because these senior members are the heads of the mafia families. It’s not a club or a board committee.
“Yes, I know exactly how that sounds but the door was open,” he grunts.
