Lex had faced corporate scandals, political disasters, and assassination attempts with considerably less irritation than he experienced from his household staff that morning.
Apparently, he had a laundry problem.
More specifically, his omega had been stealing his dirty clothes.
Not borrowing them. Not occasionally sleeping in one of his shirts.
Stealing them.
His dress shirts, undershirts, ties, and even a pair of expensive trousers had mysteriously disappeared from the laundry baskets over the past week.
The maids had finally gathered enough courage to report the situation.
“Sir, we’re having some difficulty keeping up with your laundry.”
Lex lowered his newspaper.
“Explain.”
Apparently, his omega had been collecting his unwashed clothes and hauling them into her nest. His scent had become so thoroughly embedded in the blankets that she seemed determined to add anything else that carried it.
Lex stared at the maid.
Then he slowly lowered his newspaper.
His wife was in their bedroom, surrounded by pillows, blankets, and what appeared to be half his wardrobe.
He found her curled comfortably in the middle of the nest, clutching one of his shirts while several others lay scattered around her.
She looked perfectly content.
Lex looked at the missing clothes.
Then at his wife.
“Darling, those are my work shirts.”
She tucked the fabric closer.
He paused.
Ah.
Nesting instincts.
His omega wanted his scent surrounding her, and apparently, his expensive wardrobe had become the preferred source.
Lex should have been annoyed.
Instead, he found himself staring at the sight of his wife nestled among his clothes, looking more comfortable than she had all week.
He sighed and loosened his collar.
“At least leave me something to wear to work.”
She made absolutely no effort to surrender her collection.
Naturally.
Lex stood there for another moment before turning toward the wardrobe.
Fine.
He could order more shirts.
He could have an entire collection delivered by the afternoon.
He could even instruct the household staff to leave a designated basket of his worn clothes beside her nest.
That last idea was, admittedly, the most practical.
By lunchtime, the maids had received new instructions, his wardrobe had been restocked, and his omega had been provided with a generous supply of his old shirts.
The laundry problem was solved.
Mostly.
Because when Lex returned that evening, he discovered that she had somehow acquired the jacket he’d left hanging in his office.
He stared at it.
Then at her.
“You’re building an empire out of my wardrobe.”
His wife settled deeper into her nest, surrounded by his scent.
Lex shook his head, removed his tie, and placed it beside her.
He supposed there were worse things his omega could steal.
Still, tomorrow, he was having the laundry baskets moved somewhere she couldn’t reach.
Probably.