Page 6 of The Alpha Escort Agency
Why is she so nervous? She's the one hiring him, not him her.
The agency had sent her a selection of photos and very brief bios, and she'd been required to choose her Alpha. It had been an impossible task, but something about this Alpha had caught her eye. In the picture he was dressed in a denim shirt, sleeves rolled up, holding a batch of freshly baked muffins, laughing into a camera. She has to hand it to this agency: they know what they're doing. The photo had made her stomach flip and is partly to blame for this attack of nerves.
They scheduled this informal meeting in the bar to last only thirty minutes to ensure that, when the time comes, she feels comfortable and secure with the man she's picked.
Pulling her mobile from her purse, she checks for messages, hoping he's cancelled. Then stands up, determined to leave, convinced this was a stupid idea.
"Hey," it's a deep baritone voice, molten and liquid like whisky in a glass. A voice like that can only belong to an Alpha and her stomach does that same flipping maneuver. She peers up and up. It's him. "I got you a drink," he says, handing her a tall glass and appearing to ignore the fact she was clearly about to leave. "Gin and tonic, right?"
Her brain flickers as it tends to do in a moment of panic, a rotating pack of index cards, unable to fixate on a steady thought.
What to do?
Act oblivious, pretend she has no idea who he is and leave?
Or take a risk and stay?
He gestures to the deep leather chair she's vacated and takes the one opposite. His drink is soft, and he takes a long sip, watching her over the rim. His eyes are soft too, far too soft for an Alpha's. But everything else about him is anything but soft — tall and muscular, strong jaw, heavy brow, and big hands. The smell of him is Alpha too, just discernible on the tip of her tongue, a deep strong taste that reminds her of the darkest of chocolate. She'd like to take a deep inhale of him to be sure, but that would be considered uncouth and she already feels overtly studied by his unblinking stare.
Slowly, not sure she's going to stay, she lowers herself back into the chair.
“Rory,” he says, placing his glass on the side table at his elbow.
“Alice,” she squeaks, before hiding behind her drink, taking a long suck on the straw.
“Nice to meet you, Alice.”
She nods and lowers her glass.
“Have you done this before?” he asks. Despite his size, his voice is quiet, almost whispered, a voice, she can't help thinking, is well suited for the bedroom. She sinks further into the smooth leather of the chair, allowing herself a discreet little gulp of his scent. It's like a sedative, his Alpha pheromones relaxing her body and her limbs.
“Drunk a gin and tonic in a hotel bar?”
His face remains neutral, but the right corner of his mouth twitches. “Yes.”
“No, never had a gin before and never stepped foot in a hotel bar." She takes another drag of the gin.
“In that case,” he says, leaning forward in his seat, “you might want to know a bit about how those things work. Is there anything you'd like to ask me?”
The blood rushes to her cheeks and she turns to gaze across the bar in the hope he won't notice. Yes, there are plenty of things she'd like to ask him, certain details she'd like clarified, but this would involve using vocabulary and describing particular activities that she has never spoken out loud to a man before.
“Alice,” he says, pulling her eyes back to his with that calm whisper, “it's important you feel comfortable and safe.”
She nods, eyes lost in his. Alpha eyes have this strong hypnotic ability, the eyes of a predator snaring their prey. His are no different but there's no fierceness, no flash of power, their hypnosis is all in the swirl of colour, like falling into a rabbit hole.
She clears her throat, buying herself time. “Let's just say, I've never bought a gin and tonic before, especially not from such a pricey and smart hotel.”
“I see.”
“I've always found a G&T, you know, sitting at a bar or I've been matched with one on an App.”
He snorts what she thinks is a genuine grunt of laughter and she can't help smiling at him.
“The problem with finding your drink that way,” he says, “is you can't guarantee it's quality.”
“Ha! Yes, exactly, half the time it's flat, or gone off, or worse, spiked!”
He nods sympathetically. “Alice, that isn't going to be a problem.” He reaches forward and for one fleeting moment she thinks he is going to touch her, but instead he reaches down to retrieve her phone that's slipped onto the floor and hands it to her. “What I have found important is that you tell me now, before your heat, if there is anything you would be unhappy about, any preferences you have. An Omega can find it hard to communicate those things in a heat.”
