The Surrogates: The 5 Book Paranormal Pregnancy Romance Box Set

by Angela Foxxe

  It did its job, though. Her clothing absolutely showed off her entire body, making her look incredible. While a lot of people probably thought she was trashy looking, probably everyone else in the room, but they were fools. They all looked beautiful. They all looked like the epitome of the female body. It was horrifying to see all of these women. There was no way that she was supposed to go up against all of them and succeed.

  Sitting down, she examined these three women and thought it over, trying very hard to figure out what was going to give her the edge. Physically, it was really just a matter of preference. You would find perfect women, regardless of your tastes, in this room. Right now, there was no physical contest between them. Sure, the redhead was skinnier than the rest of them, but that didn’t mean much. Tasha looked at everyone and saw only equals here. What were they looking for? Maybe this was going to be less about the physical than she thought and more about something else she hadn’t anticipated.

  The door to the lounge opened and in came another woman. She was as blonde as the golden sunrise and had a smile that was blindingly white. Her face looked like it had been sculpted out of the silicone dreams of men who never got over the head cheerleader at their high school. Her hair was big and bright, framing her perfect face with bubblegum lips and sparkling blue eyes. Her breasts were large, pushed up by her bra and her white shirt hung off one shoulder, revealing her midriff and showing her belly button piercing. She wore white pants and pumps that told everyone just how long and statuesque her legs were, as well.

  She looked over her shoulder at the four of us and then headed to the bar where the bartender was more than happy to smile and quietly ask her what it was that she would be drinking. She ordered bourbon and it didn’t surprise Tasha one bit that she had a southern accent. She looked the part. She wasn’t trashy, but she definitely had the air of a southern belle.

  As soon as the glass clinked against the surface of the bar, the doors opened and another woman entered. She walked with the statuesque precision of a woman who had been groomed and trained for this kind of a situation. She was shorter than the rest of the girls, but she was no less beautiful. Her sharp, almond eyes searched around, looking at the others in the room, studying them just like Tasha had when she entered. There was far less subtlety with her, however. Her black hair was pulled back into a tight bun and she held herself with much grace and composure. The dress she wore formed to her body, like someone had poured dark, glossy oil over her body and called it good. She sat down in a chair, prim and proper, unlike anything that Tasha had seen in the other women present.

  Tasha didn’t like the look of her. She looked like a serious threat. She looked like someone who was going to cause her serious trouble. This was a woman who looked like she knew her stuff and wasn’t here to play around. To the credit of everyone else, they didn’t look like that either, but she just had more of an intimidating demeanor.

  With seven of them present, Tasha felt nervous about what was to come. How many more were there going to be? How many more women could there possibly be in this application process? Should they have weeded out more of them in the earlier stages of the application process? She glanced at the door, horrified as she saw two more people come through the doors.

  One was a tall black woman, her hair shaved and smooth, with eyes that looked like crackling fire, with a warmth and potency to them that made her alarming. She wore a tube top and a pair of jeans that were exceptionally made. She looked like a supermodel that should be put up on every billboard. Her skin was darker than the other black woman, much more rich and deep. She didn’t look like she was from around here. Either way, regardless of where she was from, this woman was stunning and she was impossible to forget. She was laughing with the other woman she came in with, gently touching her on the shoulder like old friends. This bothered Tasha too. Was this going to give them an advantage?

  The second woman was another redhead who had hair like fire, orange and striking, like curls of molten steel that framed her lovely pale face. Unlike the other woman present with red hair, hers was definitely natural, not the crimson color of the previous. Her fair skin was spattered with beautiful freckles that made her look charming and delightful. Her white smile was a beam of light as she tossed her curly hair and walked in wearing an emerald summer dress that made her seem bold and courageous. She wasn’t the kind of woman who shied away from the colors she shouldn’t be wearing, according to popular tradition. She guided the two over to the lounge where the rest of the applicants were sitting and they both sat down together.

  This had to be it. Tasha was horrified by the thought of any more coming to the process. There couldn’t be more. There was no way there could be more. This was it, right?

  As if fate hadn’t been hating on her enough, the doors opened and in walked a woman in all black, wearing everything that Tasha was too terrified to ever wear. Her hair was shaved on the sides, with only silky, straight pink hair on top of her head. Her face was beautiful, impossibly pure looking, like the face of an angel that went rogue and at some point, started living a very rough life. She had tattoos on her neck and her ears were pierced more times than she probably cared to count. Shoulders and arms were bare, except for the myriad of inked figures on them that adorned them. She was wearing something that looked like a black corset and black leather pants that hugged her body in all the ways that made her look dangerous.

  In the kind of lifestyle that she was leaving behind with this application, it made Tasha wonder. How many hard, dangerous people had wanted a piece of her and she had to fight them off?

  So ten, that was it. Ten was a round number. That was a reasonable number for her to accept. Why would there be more than ten applicants in this final process? It made perfect sense to her. There could be no possible explanation for why there should be more.

  The doors opened again and two more women walked through. The first had long straight hair that was as dark as chocolate and skin that was as olive and gorgeous as any that Tasha could ever dream of. There was no way in a thousand sessions at the tanning salon could Tasha ever hope to have a color that was as bold or glorious as this woman’s skin. Her eyes were dark and welcoming, but there was something deeply wild and fiery in them. It was marvelous to see her looking around the room, walking like a tall goddess who had come down to visit them. It was something beautiful and impressive to see. It was hard to tell which of the women were now more intimidating, and there was still another.

  The second and hopefully last of the women was another woman with blonde hair so pale and so bright that it practically looked like silver. She was a thin woman, a woman who was graceful and lovely, but her breasts were enormous, which gave the sign that she was a woman who had worked very hard to bring her weight down from greater numbers, to this thin figure that stood before them now. She was dressed sensibly and professionally in her attire, but it hugged her body tightly and accented everything she had worked so hard for. That kind of determination was something that alarmed Tasha. It was the look of a woman who was willing to do whatever was necessary to make sure that she succeeded in her goals and her designs.

  Thankfully, she turned out to be the last of the applicants to arrive. She looked around at all of them, sitting at high, modern pub tables, on the couches, or pacing around like caged tigers, fierce and lovely.

  It was tense. The temptation to bond with them or to talk with them was overwhelming, but it was ill advised. It was something that no one wanted to do, for fear of the future competition. It was very likely that they were all from across the country and that meeting and laughing with them would only end in a farewell and never to see them again. So Tasha sat silently, waiting for whatever was going to happen next.

  Chapter 2

  What eventually happened next was something she hadn’t really anticipated: lots and lots of paperwork. When the doors to the lounge opened, they did not come in through the entrance the women had entered from. Instead, they came in through a
different set of doors that were around the corner and behind the bar, where Tasha expected the bathrooms to be. Clearly, she found out that she was wrong.

  Her correction came in the form of several men dressed in black suits, moving with stoic efficiency that reminded her of a certain driver who was immune to her charms as well. They entered the room, each of them looking practically identical in their style and their unimpressed, silent features. They walked with their briefcases and portfolios, ready to do whatever it was that they had come en masse to perform.

  Behind them, leading the pack of bureaucrats was a man who stood above all of them, standing out from the others who wore suits as black as jet. His suit was charcoal gray and his t-shirt and tie were as black as midnight. His eyes were sharp and hawkish; dangerous with a flickering heat behind them that was controlled but present. It made him look dangerous and in charge of everything that was happening around him, like a silent god, watching all the universe in motion, moving exactly in all the importance and accordance that he had laid out long ago. Tasha watched him and wondered what exactly it was that he was going to be doing in the whole process.

  He was the kind of man who looked diabolical and important, as if he could snap his fingers and cause irrevocable damage to their chances. His eyes looked around the room settling on each of the women, drinking them in, studying them, dissecting them as he stared at them. It was the kind of look that made her skin crawl and when his eyes settled on her, she felt like she was being ripped apart on an atomic level. It felt like he could see absolutely every part of her and all of her past was laid out bare before him to look through.

  Eventually, he moved to the front of the room and looked over everyone one more, making sure that they were all accounted for as his lackeys spread out around the fringe of the women, corralling them and keeping them in check. It was as if he was afraid that they were all going to burst and break through his ranks. It made Tasha wonder what kind of news they were waiting for. Was he going to spring some kind of trap on them and make them want to scream and flee for their lives? She felt tense all over, like a coiled spring, ready to burst and fly off in a dozen directions.

  Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady herself.

  “Congratulations on making it this far in the application process,” the man at the front of them said with a clear voice, like a bell ringing out through a still, cold night. The air vibrated with his voice and it felt like everything was just a breath away from shattering. “Out of twenty thousand women, you twelve have impressed us the most with the endurance, creativity, and the passion that your applications showed us. Thank you for your patience in this process and we assure you that your time is of our utmost concern and we do not seek to waste anyone’s with this process. We are all busy people and we are all looking forward to this final step so that my client and his family will be able to begin.

  “My name is Mr. Grayson,” he said after a moment’s pause, collecting his thoughts as he placed the portfolios on the tall, pub table next to him. He looked at it, drumming his fingers on the surface of the table and looking at his notes with his hawkish eyes. He adjusted his glasses and looked around the room once more, collecting his thoughts before beginning again.

  “We will be walking through a series of four final tests to really make sure that we have the right candidate. It is important to us that you were given no prior warning or information about the test so that we can have a more accurate reading of your personage.”

  “I thought all of that was over?” The Asian woman said with sternness in her voice that felt like a knife slashing through the air.

  “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding,” Mr. Grayson said with a cold tone in his voice that made it more than clear that he did not like to be interrupted so rudely. It was almost biting to hear him utter the sentence as he looked at her. “Before we begin with the first test, there are some housekeeping points that I need to take care of first.

  “All of you were instructed to arrive with nothing more than essentials to wear and get you here. Any bags or supplies that were brought with you will be confiscated for the duration of the test. Should you complete the application process, we will still hold on to your bags until the completion of the surrogacy and it will be returned to you upon the termination of your contract. Trust me, we will keep your things very safe for you.

  “Along with that, your clothing and the items you brought with you will be taken from you before the final stages of the application begin. Your clothing, phone, wallet, purse, or anything else that you have on you will be held in safety and confidence until the completion of the surrogacy and the termination of your contract. However, there are eleven of you who will not be signing the final contract and will be departing here before nightfall. As you were informed earlier, your plane ticket will be purchased and you will be given a free trip home on the Matterhorn Company dime.

  "Your services and your application were valuable and we wish to leave on the best of terms. Should you fail at any point through the application process, you will be escorted to the locker room to retrieve your attire and items before you are taken to the airport. Again, everything you own will be locked and secured for you so that none of you need to worry about it being tampered with or stolen.

  "Secondly, after we finish up here, you will be escorted upstairs to a locker room. Your measurements from the application process have given us access to creation of a wardrobe for you. Before the next stage of the application process, you will need to dress in the attire given to you. No jewelry or any other accessories may be worn through the application process. Anyone who fails to comply with this rule will be terminated immediately and you will be sent home.

  "Thirdly, my associates here have contracts and nondisclosure agreements for you. Every point through the contract has been marked for you to sign and initial in the proper areas. You will not be given time to read this contract. A copy will be provided for you upon departure or success of the application process for you to look over and to read. I will tell you up front that this contract is ironclad and you will have no access to release from it. Any lawyer in the land will tell you that you probably should have consulted with them before signing it. Too bad. This is a now or never opportunity. Frankly put, when you have a chance to read this, you will find that Matterhorn will be monitoring you from this day forward.

  "We have access to your email, phone records, and any other correspondence that might transfer information to another about what has happened here. How do we do this? Keywords and algorithms in a program that will be monitoring you. Should red lights appear, our technicians will investigate.

  "I will tell you this now, breathe a word of what you see or any aspect of the application process within these walls, we will know and you will be sued into extreme poverty. Your entire life will be in ruins if you mess with us. However, if you never breathe a word about it, then you’ll be fine.

  “Finally, anyone who is not comfortable with this, you are given the opportunity right now to walk away and there will be no consequences to this decisions. Matterhorn Company appreciates discretion and honesty with our surrogates and if you are not comfortable with anything that has happened within these walls, then feel free to walk away now. There will be no consequences and there will be no harm done to you financially or socially. This is your last chance.”

  Tasha looked around the room, wondering who would be brave enough to leave at this point. Who would have the courage to walk away and do something so stupid as throw away the opportunity to have five million dollars? This was the point of no return and she was completely fine with it. She was more than willing to do what was necessary to make sure that she succeeded.

  There was a moment of stillness, where she fully anticipated someone to get up, to make the coward’s call and to stop there.

  Tasha had decided early on that if she didn’t succeed here, then she was going to be just fine with the nondisclosure agreement. She would never talk abo
ut this period in her life and she would never even waste a second on it. That was something that she would have absolutely no trouble with when she thought about it. Why would anyone want to spill secrets about some boring company full of suits and men who looked like the emperors of hell? That seemed insane to her and she was fully willing to keep her mouth shut about it. Taking a deep breath, she waited for the moment to end as Mr. Grayson looked from person to person, his eyes burning like coals in a fireplace.

  Finally, the moment ended.

  “Very well,” Mr. Grayson stood up straight. “My associates will hand out the contracts and the nondisclosure agreements for you to sign. Again, don’t waste time reading it now. I’ve told you the sinister seed within and I’m not afraid of it. You were given a chance to back out with prior knowledge of the contents. At this point, you’re eating up my time if you stall.”

  The people who were dressed in their dark suits that rung in the beautiful women like a horde of starving dogs. They pulled out the contracts and handed them to each of the women, providing them clipboards to brace the paper if they needed it. Tasha took a contract and a clipboard from a man who hardly spent a second looking at her before he produced a pen for her to take. She took it from him and looked at the first page. Sure enough, it was more writing than she had ever seen in a contract and it seemed like it went on forever. On the sides, there were bright plastic tabs that told her to turn to certain pages. They were color coordinated to tell her where she would need to initial, sign her name, or sign her name and date the document. She went through all of it blindly, not wasting time in trying to read or take in anything. She wanted to be done with this as quickly as possible.