Scott smashed his alarm. Today was Sunday, the one day he didn’t have to get up at the crack of dawn. Why would his alarm be going off now? He wouldn’t have forgotten to turn it off, would he?

He heard the clock hit the ground, but the awful buzzing continued. With a pained groan, he realized the sound wasn’t the alarm clock. It was his phone. He fumbled for it and answered it before his voice mail could pick up. “Hello?”

“Hello. Is Scott Thorburn available, please?”

The speaker had a deep, radio-announcer type of voice. It was the kind of voice that always made Scott’s skin crawl. He didn’t understand why. Maybe it was the inappropriately cheerful ring to it. Right now cheer was definitely inappropriate, since it was nine o’clock on a Sunday morning and Scott hadn’t had any coffee yet. “This is Scott. Who’s calling?”

“Scott, this is Amos Yates from Make It Work, the premiere reality show on television. You auditioned for the program approximately six months ago. Do you recall that, Scott?”

Scott scratched his belly. He did remember the audition. The whole stupid thing had been Grant’s idea. People who got an audition got a hundred bucks for their time, and Grant had needed the hundred bucks back then. So had Scott. He could do with a hundred bucks right now, come to think of it, but his situation wasn’t quite so dire.

“I remember.” He yawned. “Is there something wrong?”

Amos Yates, the announcer for the single worst reality show on television, laughed a laugh so artificial Scott wondered if it had been computer generated. “No, Scott. Nothing is the matter. Are you available to come to the studio tomorrow at noon? We’ll be filming the first episode of the new season, and you’re one of the ten omegas we’ve selected to be part of the show. All ten candidates will receive ten thousand dollars each, exclusive of any winnings they receive as part of the show should they be selected as the omega half of the marriage.”

Scott coughed. He couldn’t bring himself to believe this. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”

Yates’ voice turned disapproving, in spite of the omnipresent tone of inappropriate cheer. “No, Scott! It isn’t a joke. And if you’ll recall, you did sign a legally binding agreement to make yourself available for filming should you make it to this round. We’ll email you the address and guidelines on what to wear, and of course we’ll mail you a check within sixty days of filming.”

Scott grimaced. “Um. Right. Yeah, tomorrow at noon. I’ll be there.” He remembered that agreement. He’d signed it because the chances of having to do anything about it were about nine hundred thousand to one, or something like that. The agreement had said so in really tiny print right there at the bottom. He never thought, in a million years, he’d have to go through with anything like showing up on TV.

Should he get a lawyer?

He knew, without having to pay money he didn’t have, exactly what the lawyer would say. He would say, “Dude, you should have read what you signed. And then you shouldn’t have signed it. Moron.” Nine to one odds were a lot worse than nine hundred thousand to one, right? Sure, Scott could use an extra ten grand. He didn’t have a lot hanging around in the way of savings. But he didn’t want to get married, either. He didn’t want a temporary marriage to some guy, all to be filmed and flashed all over the TV.

He ran into the bathroom and puked. It didn’t make him feel better, but he hadn’t had much choice. The thought of letting some stranger touch him just made him ill. He had no idea how much he’d get paid, and he didn’t care either. He’d basically be getting paid for sex, and there was a word for that.

When his body had yielded everything it was going to give, he rinsed out his mouth and went to go make some coffee. He could hear Grant slurring on the phone, so Grant was obviously getting a call too. He should probably be surprised about that, given the odds, but this was Grant. He’d been the one that wanted to go on the show in the first place, so it was good he was getting the callback. Grant wouldn’t mind having to marry a stranger. He’d probably done worse in his time. Scott would probably have to find a new roommate, but whatever. That wouldn’t be hard. Astoria wasn’t a bad place to live and the rents weren’t awful.

By the time the coffee was done, Grant had finished his conversation and shuffled into the common area. Scott considered “accidentally” spilling the hot coffee over his bare chest, but thought better of it. Grant had come up with the idea to audition, and he’d certainly badgered Scott into it, but Scott could have said no at any time.

“Dude. Ten grand, right?” Grant grinned at him, huge and satisfied. “Think about it. Think of the things we could do with that money. Think of the beer we can buy with that money.”

Scott rolled his eyes. Okay, sure, he might buy a little beer. He was going to save most of it, probably put some of it toward retirement. “I’m just hoping we don’t ‘win.’” He sipped his coffee. “Can you imagine?”

“Dude. Yes, I can imagine. Being married and having to be monogamous for a year will suck but you know what else sucks? Living on ramen when they cut back hours at the gym, the studio, or the shop. Having to work two jobs, both of us, and still not getting anywhere. I for one welcome the bonds of matrimony with open and loving arms.” He scratched at his beard. “Besides, it means getting laid on the regular without having to go and hit up the club or whatever, and that’s got a lot of appeal for me.”

Scott laughed, jollied out of his mood. “Well, with any luck they’ll pick you and we won’t have to worry about it, then. If we want that to happen…”

“What?”

“We’ll have to do something about that beard. You haven’t trimmed it in a while and you’re starting to look like you crawled out of the Pine Barrens. Come on, I’ll take care of it.”

“Can’t we wait until I’ve had some more coffee?” Grant whined. “I just woke up, and I was on the best bender last night. I think I’m still a little buzzed.”

Scott rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course you are.” He wasn’t a big partier, but he wasn’t going to look down on Grant for cutting loose sometimes. They both worked hard. If it helped Grant to get wild every now and then, Scott wasn’t going to tell him no.

He drank his coffee and went for a run. By the time he came back, Grant was ready to get cleaned up for the occasion. Scott would have stuck around to help nurse him through his hangover and go over their materials for the next day, but he had work to do. He was teaching four group fitness classes at the gym today, and he didn’t want to be late.

He went through his group classes - kickboxing, yoga, self defense for omegas, and Boot Camp - and spent some time working the floor in the fitness area. Sundays at this gym tended to be fairly crowded, but at least out here people were still cool. He worked for the same gym chain up in their Midtown location on Tuesdays and those customers would drive a saint to drink. Pushy and entitled, every last one of them had a long-winded explanation as to why they were the exception to every rule in the house.

And that was without taking the alphas into consideration. Did they not see the bio with his resume? He’d broken their fingers, wrists, noses, and one kneecap before the company sent out a weekly reminder to its members that touching staff was not permitted under any circumstances.

When he got home, he called his boss at the martial arts studio. They would have to get someone else to cover tomorrow night’s classes. Something had come up, he had an obligation he couldn’t get out of without a lawsuit, and that was just it. Bob understood. He was cool like that.

He woke up the next morning with a stomach filled with lead. Part of him still thought he might be able to find a way out of this, but he knew he couldn’t. The only thing he could do was to calm himself down and go through with it. Hopefully nothing would come of it, he could stash some money away and move on.

It would be a learning experience. He’d learn to read contracts before he signed them, and not to say yes to anything Grant suggested ever again.

He went through his usual workout - a run first, then through some exercises, and finally some yoga. By the time he was finished, Grant had come home. He eyed Scott as he sat on the floor, finishing his yoga practice. “It’s a good thing this part isn’t being filmed. They’d pick you for sure. With abs like that? The audience would riot.”

Scott blushed and went to shower. He washed up and combed his hair, although he didn’t pay much attention to it. The last thing he wanted was to be attractive, for crying out loud. When he was done, he and Grant headed over to the Valor Entertainment building.

This place was huge. The front lobby was elegant, more so than any place Scott had ever been. They had their directions, though, and neither of them wanted to be late. They didn’t have time to linger and admire the artwork.

Their studio was on the tenth floor. They took the elevator up together, although neither of them spoke much. Even Grant was intimidated by the idea of filming an actual episode of television, or maybe the enormity of marrying a stranger had finally penetrated his brain. Scott was afraid that if he opened his mouth he’d throw up.

They got out of the elevator and followed the signs to the sound stage, where a flurry of cameramen, sound operators, and production assistants fluttered around a group of eight guys. All of the eight guys looked to be within twelve years of Scott and Grant, if Scott had to guess. Standing in front of the other omegas, wearing a fuchsia ascot and directing everything, was a pale man with gray hair.

“Ah. Here we are.” His voice made him immediately identifiable as Amos Yates. “Scott, Grant, thank you for joining us. Let’s get started, shall we?”

Scott inched up to join the other omegas in the line. Grant slouched up beside him, and Yates continued to speak.

“Let me explain how this is going to go. The alpha is on site, but none of you will see him until we are on camera and we’re ready for the reveal. What we’re going to do now is get your hair and makeup done. Yes, makeup. You’re on television, you didn’t think they all looked that good naturally? We have to account for the effects of lighting and the camera but trust me, you’re all beautiful.

“Now. Once we’ve done that, we’re going to introduce each of you one at a time. You’ll go and stand on the riser that has your picture from the audition on it. Then we’ll introduce the alpha. We’ll announce the winner, he’ll cry tears of joy while the rest of you congratulate him, and then bing bang boom we’ll bring out the priest. Sound like a plan?”

One of the other omegas, a beautiful young man with dark skin, raised his hand. “Wait. Where are the judges?”

“Mikkel, the decision has already been made. We’ll announce during filming, because we want everyone’s reactions to be genuine, but everything is already set. The checks for the ones who aren’t getting married have even been cut.” He smiled creepily, all teeth and gums, and clapped his hands twice. “All right! Let’s get this done!”

An army of hairdressers and makeup artists descended, and Scott knew he was done for.

* * *

Danny checked himself in the mirror. The makeup itched. Truth be told, he felt ridiculous. The paint was an inch thick, and it would have to be taken off with a chisel, and a category five hurricane wouldn’t move his hair. But he wanted a husband, didn’t he? And he didn’t have time to find one. The Hellion Club was good for a lot of things - networking, for example, and casual hookups - but they couldn’t help him find a husband.

He sighed. The longer he sat back here and watched through CCTV, the more he thought this game show wasn’t the right way to find a husband either. Sure, he was going to be married at the end of the day. When he’d signed onto this project he’d thought of it like a checklist. Everything else had gone like a checklist, so why not this? College at fourteen? Check. IPO at twenty? Check. First billion by twenty-five? Also check.

Married by thirty? Not so much. And responsible men were married by the time they got to a certain age. Danny was a responsible guy, a responsible alpha. He might have dedicated a lot of his life and time to building his business, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t responsible. He needed a husband.

None of these guys he saw out on that stage was a husband. None of them had made any money to speak of. They wouldn’t be able to manage his household funds, or even manage his household. He’d watched all of their intro videos and heard all kinds of stories. Some had come to the US as children from horrific situations, and that was all well and good but that didn’t mean they’d be good husbands for a tech mogul. Some were deeply religious, and how was that going to mesh with a man whose life had been devoted to science?

More than half of the omegas didn’t even have bachelor’s degrees. What in the hell would they have to talk about?

Some of them seemed smarmy and self-assured. Danny liked a guy with a certain level of confidence, but guys who got up in front of a camera and declared themselves to be God’s gift to alphas had nothing to offer the world.

Well, he’d signed the contract. And plenty of guys his age had divorces under their belt. He’d stick it out for the year, they’d divorce, and he’d set up an account on MateMaker like a normal guy.

The PA sitting in the room with him froze for a few seconds. Then she tapped him on the shoulder. “Danny, you’re up. Come on, I’ll tell you when it’s time.”

She led him out to a space in the wings off of the set, where he couldn’t be seen by the contestants. One of them had already been selected for him, but he couldn’t make himself root for any of them. They were pretty, but that was about it. None of the omegas in question sounded like they had a brain in their heads.

The PA tapped his arm. “It’s your cue. Go out, your lines will be on the teleprompter, just go.”

Danny strode out like he knew what he was doing. He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. Lines? This was supposed to be reality television. He was a self-made billionaire, damn it. No one decided what he was supposed to say.

He reached his mark and turned to the camera, still smiling. The host, Yates, stood and beamed at him while his voice boomed out from speakers Danny couldn’t see. “America, meet Danny Magee. Danny went to MIT at fourteen, finished his undergrad at sixteen, and took his company public before he could legally buy a beer. Yes, you could say he’s done it all. Now he’s ready to find love. He’s committed to making it work with one of our lovely omega contestants. Here’s the question - which of these charming men will be the one to share his life for the next year and more?”

Danny looked the omegas over. They all smiled big, beautiful smiles - well, all except one. That one, who stood toward the back with his jaw clenched, had wary dark eyes and a tight black tee shirt that showed an incredible body. Why would he be here if he wasn’t happy about it?

Now Yates did speak into the camera. “Danny, the whole world knows what you’ve accomplished in your lifetime. You’re here tonight to make one more incredible accomplishment - to get married. Look out there into the audience and tell everyone who the lucky omega will be.”

Danny bristled when Yates put his hand on his back, but he wasn’t about to give any signs of weakness away. There weren’t any people in the “audience” of course. There were only cameras and crew. He smiled into the teleprompter and tried not to be obvious about reading his words. Oh, for crying out loud, who wrote this stuff? “Well, Amos, you know I’m excited about this. I’ve given the judges a lot of input about my tastes and my needs, and I have every confidence that they’ll have made the right decision.” He hadn’t given them any input, just a blood test to prove he didn’t have any STIs.

“Before I leave here tonight, I will have joined my life, my heart, and my soul to…” He had to pause, as the monitor blanked out on him. “Scott Thorburn.”

He watched the omegas as they turned around to look at the man who’d won. They’d all clustered around the man in the tight shirt and moved in to hug him. The “winner” himself, Scott, didn’t look thrilled. He certainly wasn’t crying the tears of joy called for on the teleprompter. His eyes had rolled back into his head, and his knees buckled underneath him.

Danny sprang into action before he made a conscious choice to get involved. Before he knew what he was doing, he was at Scott’s side, catching him in his strong arms. Scott was a solid guy. He didn’t look all that big, but everything in him was muscle. His hair was soft and silky-smooth where it brushed against Danny’s arm.

He bit his lip. His mic was still live, and he didn’t want to start his year off by complaining about his husband on national television. That said, they weren’t exactly getting off to a good start. The guy had already looked miserable when he was up there and now he was passing out. Was he on drugs? Was he a rare straight omega? Didn’t the producers screen for this stuff? What was going on here?

“Well, that was dramatic,” Yates said in his smarmy voice. “I don’t know about you, but that certainly speaks about true love to me.” A pair of PAs rushed out onto the stage with smelling salts, and Yates kept speaking. “In all my years of hosting this program I’ve never seen an omega so overcome with emotion that he passed out right here on the stage.”

Danny rolled his eyes. He noticed another omega across from him, patting Scott’s cheek carefully, who seemed to have the same view. Interesting. “Do you know him?” he asked in a whisper.

“He’s my roommate.” The bearded omega covered his mic with one hand.

“Is he on drugs?”

The guy scoffed. “No. Not Scott. This is not what he expected.” He moved his hand away from the mic. The conversation was over.

It was also about as informative as a zoo placard. Of course it wasn’t what Scott expected. If it had been, he probably wouldn’t have passed out. Did the bearded guy think Danny was as stupid as — Danny cut the thought off, even in his own head.

Scott’s eyelashes fluttered and he opened his huge dark eyes. He looked at his roommate and relaxed. Then he recognized Danny and jumped to his feet, like Danny’s touch was poison. Where did he get off acting like that, anyway? Danny hadn’t done anything to him. Danny wasn’t going to do anything to him, either.

“Excellent! If the other omegas could take a step back we’ve got our priest just off stage.” Yates smiled, but his eyes were hard and furious. “Excellent. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Danny had forgotten about the priest. The man came out and ran through an abbreviated version of the wedding service, jammed rings onto their fingers, and that was it. Yates called for the cameraman to cut and the show was over.

Everyone relaxed. Scott took several steps back from Danny. He took a few deep breaths. “Okay. So that happened.” He closed his eyes and collected himself. “Where do we go from here?”

Yates curled his lip. “You’re twenty-two and you don’t know how a marriage works? This should be fun. The cameras have already been installed in your husband’s home. You’ll move in for the coming year. There will be no cheating, on either of your parts. You’ll have two confessional sessions per week, recorded of course. Other than that, the rest is up to you. If ratings start to slip, we might give you a little nudge here or there to stir up the pot.”

“Grand.” Danny felt sick. He’d made the single worst decision of his life. He was saddled with a young husband who didn’t know anything, who didn’t want to be here, and who didn’t want him at all.

“You signed the contract.” Yates wagged a finger at him. “You both did. Scott, dear, your things have already been brought to your new home. Enjoy.”

Danny turned to Scott. “I suppose we should make the best of it.” He held out his hand.

“I guess we should.” Scott didn’t take the hand, but walked toward the exit alone.