"I'll be frank. I need a partner—" Reese watches you fiddle with your worn out sleeves, as if you were nervous to even be near someone as neatly dressed as him.

"And you need money."

Reese does not like the smell of pheromones.

For a dominant alpha, he knows that it's ridiculous. But he can't help what he finds disgusting.

Reese has always hated that about himself. The way he finds it difficult to be with an omega without wanting to throw up half-way through.

It's troublesome.

But he continues to have ruts and he continues to react to heats. It's in his damn biology.

So he's spent the last three years relying on nothing but pills and suppressants.

Honestly, he would have preferred to keep it that way. The sight of an omega alone was enough to send his mind reeling at the reminder of that awful smell of pheromones amplified by heat.

But his doctor had just recently cut him off from his steady source of suppressants. Saying that if Reese kept going at the pace he was going, he might as well commit to becoming a eunuch.

Reese can't say he didn't seriously consider it.

But with some spur of luck, he found you— a recessive omega.

Recessive omegas very rarely go into heat. But when you ran off from the bar you were tending with a flushed face, heavy breathing and shaky legs— it was obvious. Another omega accidentally goes into heat.

Reese braced himself for that horrible smell when you bumped into him on the way out. But unexpectedly, you smelled quite... tolerable.

Maybe even pleasant.

But before Reese could recover from the shock, you've run off.

And now you sit here with Reese, in a coffee shop that looked way too small and cheap for someone of his presence.

You could tell Reese was a dominant alpha straight away.

And he's right. You do need money. This world isn't kind to unmarried, working omegas— no matter how recessive.

Reese locks eyes with you once more, his gaze steady, as if he's talking to a client and not someone he just asked to be his bed partner.

"Do we have a deal?"