Page 17 of Fourth Base with the Alpha
“Is it a religious thing?”
I shake my head, still chewing.
“Then you should lock down that fine piece of meat while you have the chance.”
“While I have the chance?” I say with my mouth full.
Frankie arches an expertly plucked eyebrow. “Yes, men like that don’t hang around for long, honey. Although maybe that’s a reason to withhold the sex. Keep him in a perpetual state of sexual frustration until he’s so gagging for it he practically offers you the world, maybe even a ring, to get inside your panties.”
“Ewww!” I squeal. I’m really not into playing games with people’s feelings and anyway, I doubt Hunter is even remotely sexually anything when it comes to me. His face, when we’d been in the lingerie shop, was a picture of disinterest. He couldn’t race out of there quickly enough. “Anyway, I have no interest in rings and …” I wave my hand around. It’s why my mom lost her mind this morning. I’ve been on a no-men, no-dating, no-anything ban for the last year. Well, technically it hasn’t been a ban. More a lack of interest.
Frankie opens his mouth to offer me more pearls of wisdom, but he never gets the chance to impart them – thanks be to all the gods – because at that moment Kim walks through the main doors with a tall, slim beta woman dressed head to toe in bright yellow. It looks great against her dark skin and hair – but I’m guessing this is the designer, and if she plans to dress me in yellow I’m going to look like a squashed banana.
I slide the leftover sandwich in Frankie’s direction beneath the desk, and jumping to my feet, do my best to brush off the crumbs from my shift dress. It’s one of the things Hunter bought me on our shopping trip so at least there’ll be no holes or fraying seams in front of the fashion lady.
“Isabella,” Kim calls, “get your ass over here and meet Zara.”
Zara’s thickly framed eyes roam down my body as I trot her way and I can’t tell if she’s sizing me up for my dress or wondering – like everyone else – what a man like Hunter is doing with a girl like me.
“Wow, you’re beautiful,” Zara beams, offering me her hand, her nails painted in the same bright yellow.
“She is,” Kim says to her left. “Hunter’s pulled way out of his league this time.”
I stare at them both with an amused expression. Are they taking the mickey out of me?
“Kim, he dated that supermodel.”
“Who looked like a broom and had the personality of one too.”
I snigger, hoping that’s what a current girlfriend would do at an insult aimed at a previous one.
“Shall we go upstairs?” Zara asks, motioning to an assistant hovering by the door with an armful of zip-up clothing bags.
“Yep,” Kim says, leading the way. Frankie watches our little posse pass by, jaw working as he munches my sandwich like he’s eating popcorn at a movie.
As we step through into the elevator, he calls out, “¡Buena suerte5!”
* * *
If I feltlike a fraud lying to all those people on the phone earlier, I feel like an even bigger one standing in my underwear in the middle of the office with Zara and her assistant dancing around me with their tape measures. At least I’m wearing the bra Hunter bought me, although unfortunately not the matching panties. Nope, thanks for the warning Kim, because I’m wearing my pair ofLittle Miss Sunshinepanties which I’m sure they’re all chuckling about even if their faces are the very embodiment of impassive professionalism.
When they’ve finished measuring every bump and lump I own, Zara stands back and surveys me.
“I think the green dress is our best bet, Christian.”
I sigh in relief. No yellow. In fact the dress Christian unzips from the bag is an emerald green that has my eyes popping from my head.
“I can’t wear that!” I gasp, as he lifts it out and the material shimmers, slivering over his arm like flowing water.
“Why not?” Zara asks, her eyebrows pinched together in a frown.
“It’s too … beautiful.”
Zara laughs and claps her hands together. “Exactly! You’re going to be the bell of the fucking ball!”
I swallow. Bell of the ball?¡Mierda!
1 He is very handsome, look
