Page 6 of Secured By the Buyer
“Hey, Milo,” my boss’s voice cuts through the silence.
I tense at the disruption and crack open myeyelids to find him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.
What is with my bosses today? They seem hellbent on making my life harder.
“Yeah?” I ask when he appears in no hurry to get on with it. My break isn’t long enough to drag out whatever’s on his mind.
His gaze dissects me like I’m something he found on the bottom of his shoe. “Spotted your old man at the craps tables earlier.”
I swear under my breath, my hands curling into fists at the mention of my father. His presence here means more debt, more bills, and more hardship for both of us.
“Yeah? What do you want me to do about it?” I snap, my exhaustion making it impossible to bite back the retort.
“Watch your tone, Omega,” he sneers, taking a step into the room.
His Alpha pheromones fill the air, and my eyes flick toward the box of masks on the counter, out of reach. “Sorry, sir. Long night.”
“You’re only halfway through your shift.” He reins in his pheromones, his foot tapping. “It’s not my problem, but I thought you might like to know.”
“Thanks for the heads up.” I keep my eyes down to hide my glare.
“Stop lazing around back here, or you’ll be out of a job.” He tosses a new room assignment onto my cart and walks away with a smug smirk on his face.
The door slams shut, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts.
Dammit. I still have another twenty minutes, but I stand, my back protesting.
I’m way too young for joint pain, but here we are.
I shuffle over to my cart and swear. Fucking three through seven again.
As I restock my supplies, my head swims with dizziness, and I grab the shelf of the supply cabinet for balance. I need my power nap, but I’m too worried now about bills and my dad’s gambling debts.
I gnaw at my inner cheek, and a metallic flavor fills my mouth, like copper pennies.
Too bad it’s not real pennies. If it was, I could spit them out and use them at the vending machine. My stomach feels like it wants to crawl out of my body in search of food.
Back out on the floor, I ride the service elevator to the hourly rentals and trudge down to room seven, deciding to start at the end to change things up. Notthat there’s any difference between the rooms. Even the view from the windows is the same.
Unlocking the door, I brace myself for the usual disaster and push it open.
Instead of the expected stench, the faint hint of pine cleaner and bleach lingers in the air.
Confused, I steer my cart inside, and to my utter shock, I don’t find a single sign of debauchery or destruction anywhere. It appears untouched since I last cleaned it.
I double-check the room number on my list. Yep, I’m in the right place. Guess someone got cold feet.
Too bad I can’t just leave the room alone and use this time to get the nap I missed. Resigned, I strip the mattress of clean, crisp linens and stuff them into the dirty bag on the end of my cart before pulling a stack of fresh ones from the shelf beneath the cleaning supplies.
With them in hand, I return to the bed and set them on the nightstand. Maybe the renters only used the bathroom to do some drugs? Just in case, I drop to the carpet to lift the dust ruffle to check for any forgotten belongings or, better yet, loose change.
When I don’t find any, I run my hands under the mattress but only feel the box springs.
“What are you doing?” a voice demands frombehind me, deep, authoritative, and not anyone I recognize, which means they shouldn’t have been able to enter the locked room.
My heart pounds, adrenaline flooding my veins as I bolt to my feet, spinning to face the speaker.
I glimpse black hair, intense blue eyes, and a powerful figure that screams Alpha before my head swims with dizziness. The edges of my vision turn gray as consciousness slips away.