Page 5 of One for the Money
Showrunner
Cirque de Mordu
This is goingto be an interesting introduction, considering I have no doubt that Jude Oliver thinks I’m a man.
Which was on purpose.
My legal name is Alex, which is fine because if it were Alexandra, I’d still want to go by Alex. But it has led to confusion over my gender identity over the years. And with Cirque de Mordu being an all-male circus, I thought it was in my best interest if I made sure Mr. Oliver believed that I fit into that mold.
While there are Betas on the crew, most of the circus is an Alpha, and since most doctors are, too, I do not doubt that he is expecting a male Alpha to knock on his door this afternoon.
I didn’t disclose my Omega status, and I don’t feel bad about it at all. There are no laws against what I’ve done. But just to be sure, I had a lawyer review the contract with me several times. There are no grounds to terminate it based on my designation.
Maybe Mr. Oliver would’ve been okay with it if I told him, but my gut said to hide it. I need this opportunity. I have to imagine a circus is tight-knit, and they probably don’t want an Omega in here messing things up.
But I needed to get away, fast.
And the circus needed a doctor, fast.
Match made in heaven.
Look at me, now, giving in to the threat I used to make as a child that I would run away and join the circus.
The gray trailer with the red stripe comes into sight when I turn the corner around the big top.
This is it—the moment of truth.
Literally.
I prop my two suitcases against the outside of the worn, but still very nice, trailer and climb the fold-out stairs, knocking on the red door. I wince at the loud, metallic noise that echoes.
“One minute!” a deep voice inside yells. I take a few steps back and do a final check of my body.
My gray slacks are pressed, and my black booties shine. My blouse is a simple white button-up, understated but classic. My black hair is up in a neat ponytail, my bangs styled, and I kept my makeup natural.
This is not the situation to flaunt my femininity. Cool, reserved, and professional is the name of the game.
I do have on scent-cancelling deodorant, which is probably overkill with my heavy-duty suppressants, but it will stop any Alpha from scenting my pheromones. Still, he will be able to tell even without that. If asked directly, I’ll tell Mr. Oliver. But I am not volunteering the information.
The door swings open, and a large man fills the frame, staring down at me. “Can I help you?” he asks. He sounds more than a little annoyed. “We don’t do solicitors, sweetie, so you better run along or I’ll feed you to the lions.”
“Having lions at a circus goes against your code of ethics, which are listed on your website,” I respond. “If anyone gets hurt here, it’s consensual. So I am not concerned that you will feed me to a big cat.”
He narrows his dark eyes at me. “Who are you, and what do you want? I’m a busy man, and I’m waiting for an appointment.” He peers over my shoulder as if checking the grounds for someone.
He doesn’t realize that someone is me, even though it’s four, and that’s when he told me to meet him.
Won’t he be surprised?
It’s a battle to keep the smug smile off my face. “I’m Dr. Alex Sheilds,” I say slowly, enjoying how his face morphs as my words sink in. Annoyance bleeds into confusion, confusion morphs into frustration, and frustration gives rise to anger.
“No, you’re not. I think I would know better than to hire a female,” his nostrils flare as his eyes rake my figure, “Omegato travel with my all-male circus for the next six months,” he hisses, grabbing me around the arm and hauling me into his trailer. “You lied to me.”
My body tenses at his tone, at the feel of his massive hand on my arm. Memories threaten to overwhelm me, and my chest grows tight. I try to breathe through it and push back the fear, but spots crowd my vision.
I repeat in my head over and over that I’m not there. I won’t ever go back there.
For now, I am safe.
