She shakes her head. "I was chatting to Bronwyn about that. She keeps raving about PackX—apparently she has been using them for her heats for the last three years, and she has been bugging me to try them since."
I raise an eyebrow. I've never heard of Pack X.
Apparently, neither has the Omega PA subreddit. Even after I turn off the filters and search through the posts about packs who've left the industry, the horror stories about STIs and injuries and rape and forced submission—anyof which would get a pack insta-banned fromHeatseekers—I can't find anything about them. Given what the subreddit tends to be vocal about, this is actually not a bad sign—if Pack X haven't shown up on there even once, it means they are either very new, or very, very good at what they do. Or, on the other hand, very, very good at hiding things.
I purse my lips at the thought.
But Bronwyn Mitre, Lauren's co-star on the movie that made her a household name, has been her mentor in the business for the last ten years. That woman takesnoprisoners. If she trusts them, it'll be for a good reason.
I type their name into theHeatseekers Pack Reviewsearch. None of their profile photos show their whole face—just snippets, hints of their bodies—but that's par for the course on the app. But,wow, those are some drool-worthy snippets.
I scroll through their review page, my eyebrows shooting up.
Holy heck, that's a lot of five-star reviews.
"Huh. Springtime garden scent profile, it says here. Sounds… blossomy—that's still your thing, right?"
Lauren nods, her face relaxing into a small smile.
"I… haven't heard of them—but if they are who you want to try, I'll put the booking request in onHeatseekerswhen we get home."
"Thanks, babes. And," her tone sharpens, "don't think I've forgotten—you promised me you'd put some fucking thought into taking on the managing director role—"
The sigh that I can't hold back makes my cheeks puff out. "Loz, we talked about this. I'm not qualified. I never even finished my master's, and I don't know enough about what the problems evenarein heat support, let alone how to fix 'em or how to spend your money effectively to target 'em. Besides, you know what kind of jerks are out there—"
"Yeah, and that's why I wantyouholding the reins. Youknowhow important this shit is, babes. I dunno if the answer is low-income heat hotels, or a new kind of heat-friendly sex toy, but—I know you won't assume you know the answers, and you'll figure out how to get the people whodoto work together and get shit done. Anyone else could really fuck things up—"
"And anyone else could really stuff things up foryou, Loz. Speaking of stuffing things up, you didn't eat dinner because that new hair guy ran over time." I glare at her as I pass her a protein bar from my purse.
She raises a blonde eyebrow at me as she grabs it and peels back the foil wrapper.
"Pretty sure you didn't either, babes," she mumbles, her mouth full of oats and whey protein performing their mediocre attempt at impersonating flavour.
"I'm fine. I ate earlier." My response is automatic at this point. I hope she didn't hear the gurgle my stomach just made. She can't be keeling over on the red carpet, and it's not like I don't have heaps of stored energy. I hold out my open hand for the empty wrapper.
A grimace flashes across her face as she swallows the last bite. "Dels, I swear to fuck, you're the only person I know who can herd cats by breed when it comes to other people's shit, but couldn't organise a piss-up in a brewery if you're the only onewho benefits." She passes me the rubbish, then retrieves her pocket mirror and checks her teeth for stray remnants of her sorry impersonation of dinner.
I roll my eyes. "Yeah, and there's more than a few cats around you that need herding, Loz, I'm not gonna risk you getting screwed over by some shitty new PA just so I can swan around and say I'm the MD of some fancy heat support research charity—"
The limousine crawls to a stop. "Babes, I love you, but you don't swan around so much as waddle."
I sputter out a laugh and give her a gentle nudge with my elbow. "Game face on, Loz. Sorry,Lauren Treloar, Omega goddess whodefinitelydoesn't swear like a sailor on leave."
She grins wickedly at me, her posture straightening. My friend disappears as the starlet takes her place. "You know it, daaaahling," she croons, her voice in the seductive purr she adopts whenever she is on screen. She unclicks her seatbelt, and turns towards the door.
The limousine door opens, and she steps out into the blinding flashes that pepper the night sky.
Chapter 2
My phone's ping drags me from my dream.
Prick.
I grunt in annoyance as I scrub the sleep from my eyes and stare at my email inbox, mentally berating past me for forgetting to put my phone on silent.
Past me is a lazy asshole.
I frown angrily at the sunlight that peeps through my shutters, then scrub my hand through my hair. I sigh and grab my phone off my bedside table.
