Of being treated like a queen. Even if it was all pretend.
I didn’t become a sugar baby to find something real. Everything in this apartment was built with illusions and alphas’ money, but never their control.
Sometime soon I will sort through it all, save my favorites, and sell the rest to top off my account, but I don’t have it in me to start that right now.
Zachary’s preferred style is on the other side. Video gameshirts, thigh-high stockings, patterned leggings with little swords on them. Clothes meant for comfort. Lazy Sundays where we order too much takeout and lie on his massive green couch.
This is not where I’ll find anything to wear for Hunter.
Hunter’s section is the polar opposite of Alric’s. It’s mostly yoga pants and gym shorts so tiny they really should be categorized as underwear. Each piece is from part of Hunter’s athletic empire: the luxury workout brand, Hunt the Gym.
I select a pale blue set the same color as his kind eyes, with pink candies at the hems. He loves seeing me in his work. This particular design was made for me, and featured in his line of omega athletic wear. He’d tried to get me to model for it, but I’d sent him to my friends instead. Harper was on billboards, and I got to stay private.
The ride over to Hunter’s skyscraper apartment is quick, the still-warm pan of takeout for our dinner resting on my lap.
Soon, I’ll have to say goodbye forever to him. Hunter and Zachary became clients around the same time, so this weekend is the last time I’ll see them, too. If Alric brought up my heat, they will soon do the same. We’ll have a good time and sometime this week I’ll send out the dreaded,This has been great but our time together has endedtext.
Since I’m not actually dating these men for real, we don’t need to discuss anything. They wouldn’t convince me otherwise, anyway. When I say it’s over, it is.
I let myself into his place, unlocking the door with my thumbprint, and the view steals a little of my breath even at night. His luxury living space has a full view of the lake, which spans so far it looks more like an ocean with the moon dancing off the surface. His decor is ultra modern: sleek chrome ceilings and polished concrete floors.
Where most people would have a dining roomor living room, he has a full gym. Sometimes we work out together here, but it’s mostly for him to record videos for his online workout channel.
I wonder if he has ever filmed himself having sex in here. I always found the idea hot but no way I would ever trust anyone with that type of footage.
After preheating the oven, I slide in the lasagna so it’ll be hot by the time he returns. Soon after my arrival, he walks in, throws his keys on the counter, and scoops me up in his arms.
Laughing, I exclaim, “Hunt, you’re so sweaty!”
His tousled blond hair is nearly dripping, but he still smells delicious. Not his real scent, of course—blockers ensure that—but a manly alpha one. Fancy imported soap, salt from his run, and a hint of sweetness.
Hunter spins me around a few times, which only makes me laugh harder, before gently placing me on the ground. He doesn’t let me go, though, wrapping his arms around my waist. His joy for life is infectious.
“Why are you so wet?” I ask.
“Traffic was a mess. It was much faster to run the few miles here. I couldn’t wait to see you.”
Of course he would run here. Touched by his words, I lean up to kiss him and he eagerly accepts my silent thank-you. It’s slow and sweet.Reallysweet.
I lick his bottom lip. “I can’t wait to try these donuts.”
“A friend of mine is letting me use one of his catering spaces to work on some recipes. I can’t say much now, but I have a major business collaboration coming up and it’s going to rock.”
“You’re going to crush it.”
He looks so pleased with himself. “Thank you! How was your day, Sophie?”
For security reasons, I never give out my real name. Hunterknows me as Sophie. Zachary calls me Emilie. I think they know it’s a fake name, but they know what this is.
Only real relationships call for real names.
“Fine, lots of cooking.” It's a lie, but it adds to the illusion he is paying for, which in my experience is all alphas care about, more than the truth.
He closes his eyes, as if imagining the food he’ll be eating soon. “I can’t fucking wait. I’m so glad you’re here. Shower with me?” he asks with ridiculously wide eyes that remind me of a puppy. How can anyone say no to that?
I pretend to think about it. “Oh, alright.”
“Yes!” He does a fist pump in the air as if he’s just won some championship game, and once again, I find myself in the air as he throws me over his muscular shoulder.
