The Seed of Life: A Harem Adventure (The Donor's Harem Book 1) by Kohen King

Author:Kohen King [King, Kohen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-02-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

I stand in front of the mirror, my hands smoothing out the front of my shirt. It's just lunch, not a date—more business than pleasure. But nerves jangle inside me like it's prom night all over again. I take a deep breath, staring into my own brown eyes.

"Mike, you got this," I mutter to myself. Dad's harsh words from last Saturday echo in my head, stiffening my spine. I'm not going to ask him for a dime. No way. Student loans are in the works; this gig is just temporary.

"Remember what Martha said," I remind myself, the image of her sharp hazel eyes and earnest expression clear in my mind. It's about helping someone's dream come true. That thought warms me as I grab my keys and step out into the afternoon sun.

The restaurant in North Dallas looms ahead, its glass doors reflecting the bright Texas sky. Seraphina. I repeat the client’s name in my head. It paints a picture of old-world elegance—a tall, sophisticated woman with an air of grace. Martha’s description adds color to the canvas: a tall blonde with blue eyes, early forties. No phone number, no other details—just a meeting based on trust and discretion.

As I walk up, scanning the crowd, a figure catches my eye. A tall woman in a tight blue dress that hugs her curves stands by the entrance, phone pressed to her ear. Even though I can’t see her face clearly, I can tell she's stunning, more so than any forty-year-old has any right to be. This can't be Seraphina. Guys would line up around the block for her. Why would she pay for something they'd give for free?

But here I am, looking for a client, not making assumptions about a stranger's life. I shake the thoughts away and approach, ready to play my part in someone else's story.

I stand a polite distance from the blonde, my gaze discreet as she chats animatedly into her phone. Her voice is clear and purposeful, and I can't help but overhear her conversation. She's wrapping up plans, something about meeting someone for lunch—me, presumably—and then heading to a work site.

"Excuse me, are you Seraphina by any chance?" I ask once she lowers her cell.

The woman turns, and recognition slams into me like a rogue wave. It's Sara. Her eyes widen with the same shock that pins me in place.

"Mike?" she breathes out. "My God, look at you!"

Heat creeps up my neck, but it's not just embarrassment warming my skin—it’s the memory of how I used to see her, the woman who unknowingly launched a thousand teenage fantasies.

"Wow, small world," she laughs, breaking the spell. Her amusement doesn’t quite mask an undercurrent of disbelief. "You're the first donor I'm meeting, and here you are, Liz's son."

Her words land with a weight I hadn't anticipated. The situation is absurd, and yet, there's a sting of disappointment I push down deep.

"Guess this will be the world's shortest business meeting," Sara continues. "Your mom would have my head."

I nod, a flush blooming on my face at her frankness, and mumble about needing to get going.

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