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“More jobs? Answer me, Rainbow.”
“Four more requests, and we can’t cover them, especially with Candy still on her honeymoon.” She ran her fingers through her hair, like there might be extra employees hidden between the strands. “And if you call me that again, I’ll leave you to do the books on your own this month.”
I shuddered. I hated doing the books, even if there wasn’t much to deal with. Yet.
“I apologize. Please don’t make me handle the accounts payable stuff. You’re so much better at it, anyway.” I shot her my million-dollar smile, but she just scratched her nose with her middle finger.
Mai, the woman on my right, was obviously eavesdropping. “Wait, you got a job? Where? How?”
Rain gave an aggrieved sigh, tucked the phone away, and lifted an eyebrow at her. “A job, Mai? How could I possibly have a job? I’m an omega. I’m not even allowed to go to college, or have a bank account in my own name, for heaven’s sake. My sole purpose in life is to hook up with an alpha and squirt out an infinite number of new alphas until my vagina shrivels up like a raisin.”
Mai gasped and stood. “Bless. Your. Heart, Rain Torres.”
It was Rain’s turn to gasp. “That was rude.”
Smirking, Mai excused herself to sit at another table, but not until she gave me a hug, invited me to lunch the following week, and promised to send me the name of her new manicurist.
Rain crossed her arms over her chest. “What is it about you?”
I shrugged. Six years before, after I turned eighteen and began smelling like coconuts and hibiscus, people had started to be attracted to me. Not just alphas, either. Rain teased me that it was because everyone who met me fell in love a little bit. She might not have been wrong, which worried me slightly. Were my omega pheromones out of control?
Mom believed they were, and that’s why she was pressuring me to say yes to marrying her best friend’s son, Tarquin Gotto-Cambert. Once I said no—if I could muster up the courage to do that—I knew I’d need to move out.
Rain and I were close to having enough to rent a room in an omegas-only facility, and Rain’s mom had already given her permission to move out if she could afford it on her own.I didn’t really want to live in sketchy, government-funded omega housing, and I was quietly terrified at the idea of moving out once I told my parents I wasn’t going to marry Tarquin. Or maybe anyone. All I’d ever wanted was to have my own business. Something I’d made, and could be proud of.
“Does anyone have any questions? Comments?” Mrs. Cantervale called out.
“Yes,” Rain said, and I cringed, knowing what was coming. “Are you kidding? You think the way to find the right husband is to put up with wanting to throw up for our entire married lives? Why not just recommend we all get ‘special nose jobs’ and remove our ability to smell entirely, or—”
The speaker, her face rigid with anger, stalked toward our table.
Trembling, I stood, placing myself directly in between the two, and forced a gentle smile. Mrs. Cantervale took a breath to speak—or shout—but I held up one open hand and very, very subtly, sent the tiniest bit of my calming omega pheromones into the air around us.
It was considered incredibly rude to do this to another omega, but I hoped she wouldn’t notice the hibiscus and coconut underneath the hot, raw oyster stench. She exhaled, then took another breath, her pupils dilating the tiniest bit.
Got her.
I lowered my voice almost to an omega purr, but not quite. “I am so curious, Mrs. Cantervale. The oysters were warmed for us to experience a truly strong odor. That was masterfully done. If we can socialize politely when surrounded by such a unique odor—which is obviously very difficult—then we should have no trouble getting to know all sorts of alphas, regardless of scent compatibility. We could even find… the one.” While I blathered on, releasing the tiniest thread of the mood-altering scent all omegas had to some extent, Mrs. Cantervale began to calm down.
“Yes, exactly. Have you tried your oysters, Miss Soleil?”
“Um, not yet.”
She reached out and handed me a shot glass, then took one of her own off the table. “Bottoms up!” She watched to make sure I drank mine as well before walking away.
I made it almost a minute, just long enough that the applause thanking Mrs. Cantervale covered up the sound of me throwing up a half-dozen oysters and eleven petit fours onto the carpet at my feet.
“Well, there’s that question answered,” Rain muttered. “You're definitely a spit girl.”
“Shut up and drink your own oyster jizz,” I groaned, and went to call the janitorial services.
Chapter2
Sunshine
“Damage control, damage control,” I muttered, as I sent a frantic SOS text to my best friends. My heart was hammering, but I could still hear Tarquin and my parents laughing and talking downstairs. Planning the wedding.
My wedding.
