The following morning…

Tatum Adams sucked in a very deep breath as he stepped into the estate house of Andrew Pearce.

Wow!, Tatum, you’ve finally found a great job. Now, don’t screw it up.

His stomach, still roiling with nerves from unlocking the enormous wooden door to walk into the front house, tangled with the nerves that had settled in yesterday after the call from Jonathan Down at Pearce Enterprises.

You’ve got the job, kid. You start at eight in the morning. If you don’t get fired on your first day you get a $1000 bonus.

It was four months since he’d arrived from London, and having struggled almost as long to survive as a waiter/short-order cook he’d been about to head back home, an abject failure when the agency had sent him to interview for this job. And he’d hit a home run.

He’d moved into the downstairs bedroom half an hour ago, his packed rucksack looking very low-rent in the luxury five-bedroom space.

Maybe Mr Down had been kidding about the bonus—he had seemed much less stiff and formal than expected. And after he’d signed an NDA, his instructions had been very slim. The only real stipulation was that Tatum remains androgynous, meaning that he looks and acts neither male nor female, which was in itself not a problem as Tatum didn’t look like a man, to begin with, he had soft features and resembled a woman more than a man. His long black hair and slight figure also didn’t lean towards the normal male physique and his voice was very soft and husky, also easily mistaken for a female. He resembled a man only because of his flat chest and privates. I can easily be androgynous; I’ve modelled in female clothing before when models couldn’t fit in the pieces because of their voluptuousness or breast size.

The one other stipulation or rather request was;

Andrew needs a friend. If you can get him to eat a cooked meal every day and get him to go outside the house, there’s an extra five grand in it for you. Remember he is terrified of women and especially omegas. I understand you are a recessive omega but you are also a man and as such, I assume Andrew will react a bit differently to you, but I need him to keep thinking you are a woman, for now, we can reveal you are a man at a later stage.

He stepped into the main living area, and his lungs squeezed tight again at the staggering luxury.

The lake stretched across the estate in the distance, while the summer sun shone brightly on the beautiful flower garden.

The room was sparsely furnished with signature designer pieces. But it seemed cold and empty to him. And there was no sign of its sole inhabitant.

Andrew Pearce.

The billionaire recluse, who hadn’t left his estate—as far as anyone knew—since he had returned from Texas 10 years ago. His heart swelled into his throat.

He knew who Pearce was of course. Everyone had seen the horrendous pictures of him, emaciated and exhausted his long brown hair and heavy beard matted after the SWAT team had dragged him out of a farmhouse in Georgetown Texas.

He’d read up on his last night on the internet after Mr Down’s call and studied the pictures he’d found of him on the web before his kidnapping by a cult of omegas…

Heat glowed in his cheeks and throbbed in his abdomen, mortifying him.

Tatum, you need to get that reaction under control ASAP.

In the photos of him after his rescue, he had been unrecognizable from the insanely handsome man who had gone missing three months before and had been presumed dead for almost as long.

He turned away from the panoramic view of the estate. Time to stop gawping and get to work before Mr Pearce appeared. He had to make a good first impression. The house had a very noticeable smell permeating it, sultry and earthy he could feel the Alpha pheromones in the air, it was a good thing he was a recessive omega.

The nerves subsided as he placed the loaded grocery bag in his arms on the marble kitchen counter. He unpacked the supplies he’d picked up at a fresh foods market on the way to cook his mom’s famous blueberry pancakes.

After fixing the batter and making the blueberry compote, he whipped some heavy cream and placed the lot in a fridge. But there was still no sign of his employer.

Perhaps he should go find him and introduce himself? He certainly didn’t want to surprise him, because that could be a disaster.

He knew there were bedrooms on the top floor and on the second floor where he was located. Entertaining and office space and a personal gym were on the middle floor. And there was a large lap pool on top.

Taking the wide, sweeping staircase, which curled up the side of the building, he headed toward the roof, but as he passed the top floor, a mortifying cry ripped through the quiet. His heart punched his ribs.

What was that? It didn’t sound like a person, the pitiful noise was more like that of a trapped animal.

For a terrifying second, he hesitated.

But then the cry came again, jolting him out of his uncertainty. He raced down the hallway toward the heartrending sound.