The Arrangement (Omegas of Hunter's Point Book 1)

Chapter 3

"I'll have the porterhouse. The ladies will have salads," Fang said.

"Steak salad, please," Damian said, "and a Dirty Martini." Or five.

"Hillary," his mother prompted, "now that you've finished school, what are your plans?"

The younger omega's response was so quiet, Damian almost couldn't hear it. "Thank you for asking, Mrs. Ambrose. I hope to find my mate and start a family." Hillary turned her wide dark eyes on him.

Damian had lost track of Hillary once the girl had finished the compulsory grades required for omegas. "Where did you go for secondary school?"

"Aspen Heights Academy," Mr. Fang responded. "Many of Hillary's classmates are already mated. Several have children, or will soon. Hillary was delayed in this as she wanted to reach First Rank in flute and violin, which she did over the summer. And she always scored consistently well in cooking and homemaking."

The man rattled off his daughter's attributes like he was reading the specifications for an expensive vehicle. As the waiter set Damian's martini down on the table in front of him, it was all he could do to sip it and not down it in a couple of gulps. He set his glass down and turned to Hillary. "Do you like to cook?"

She displayed another of those disturbingly perfect smiles. "Of course. An alpha's role is to provide the food, and an omega's is to make it a meal."

"I like to cook, too," he admitted.

Hillary giggled, high-pitched and breathy. "You're funny. Alphas don't cook."

Except for the one that owns this restaurant, Damian thought. Hillary and the late Mr. Ambrose would have gotten along well. She seemed to share the old man's low opinion of his son's pursuits. That had always been a sticking point for Damian. Why was it acceptable for an alpha to cook in a restaurant setting but not in his own home?

"Aspen Heights?" his mother asked. "I've never heard of that one."

"It's the sister school to the one Ferrah attends," Mrs. Fang explained. "Very exclusive. For omegas only, to prepare them for mate and motherhood."

A glorified finishing school, then.

Mrs. Fang continued, "Sophia recently came into her perfume, so she'll attend Aspen Heights as Hillary did."

His mother's eyes widened. "Two omegas in one family! How fortunate."

Not for the omegas.

"Young Michael will begin attending school soon, won't he?" Mr. Fang asked.

"Come August, yes," Damian's mother said.

"You really should consider Aspen Hills then. Ferrah adores it there, and the teaching staff are superb! Ferrah raves about the woman who runs the after-school study program. Miss Allen? Or Alban? Something like that."

"Damian is looking to get custody of Michael," his mother said, pointedly, and just a bit too loudly, "once he's mated, of course. Maybe I should put him in charge of finding a school for the boy."

"Hillary is very good with children," Mr. Fang chimed in. "She was her mother's little helper as Han, Ferrah, and Sophia were growing up."

The wait staff appeared to Damian's left with the entrées.

Hillary's voice was small and timid when she asked, "Do you want children?"

"Of course, he wants children, dear," Mrs. Fang said, grinning at her daughter.

"All alphas wish to pass along their genes," Mr. Fang confirmed, cutting into his steak. "Comes with the dynamic."

Damian swallowed as the eyes of those as at the table fell on him. Other than raising Michael in Emily's stead... "I've never really thought about it," he mumbled, stuffing an overlarge bite of steak and lettuce into his mouth.

***

Damian splashed water on his face and looked up into the bathroom mirror. A face far too like his late father's stared back.

He'd gone into tonight feeling sorry for himself. Now, he was feeling far sorrier for Hillary. Her parents treated her like a prized possession they hoped to pass on to a new owner, not like a human being with her own wants, needs, and desires. As far as he could tell, what she said she wanted coincided suspiciously well with what all omegas are told they should want: an alpha mate, lots of babies, and a house to take care of. Who could Hillary turn out to be if her parents would just get out of her way?

It made rejecting her that much harder. Hillary was a sweet girl, almost unchanged from the kind, quiet girl Emily had babysat all those years ago. She'd been mooning at him all night, so expectant, like she was waiting for him to do something. What she was waiting for he didn't know. A proposal? Sex right there on the table followed by a claiming mark? Who knows what she'd been told before dinner that night either by her parents or his mother. Whatever she'd been told, it wasn't happening. This wasn't what he wanted. If Hillary ever broke out of the gilded cage her parents had her trapped in, she might find that a mate-pairing to him wasn't what she wanted either. But neither did there appear to be a tactful exit. Before he'd excused himself from the table after dessert, he'd seen something in his mother's eyes. A challenge. She's the one, it said. She'd throw Hillary at him until she wore him down.

He needed to put his scheme into action. Now. Tonight. It couldn't wait. He had to find his fake someone, as much as to get his mother off his back and free Hillary up to find a mate who might have a shot at making her happy as to get the courts to grant him custody of Michael.

Reflecting in the mirror through a high open window, blinking and flashing in the distance, was a digital ad board for a new nightclub. Probably one of those gods-awful places that billed itself as the meet-up spot, catering to the wannabe movers and shakers, but mostly just serving as a place to pick up sexual partners for the night. Damian had frequented plenty of those over the past few months. In six weeks, no one would remember the place had ever existed. But it was downtown... Downtown clubs tended to attract the party-girl set, but also seemed to attract the beta girls from good families who liked to slum it.

Exactly the kind of girl his scheme required.

A slow smile spread across his face. That sounded like the perfect hunting ground to find someone who wanted to spend time with a real mover and shaker.

He started at a knock on the bathroom door. His mother's voice, "Damian, should we expect you back at the table anytime soon? Mr. Fang would like to speak with you."

To offer his blessing, no doubt. Damian leaned against the door and flipped the lock.

She knocked again. "Damian?" The door rattled in its frame. "Damian Alexander, you come out here right now."

The window! Using the toilet and its tank as a step stool, he levered himself out the window and landed in the bushes just outside, much to the surprise of two of the kitchen workers who were outside on a break.

Damian adjusted his navy-blue sports jacket and headed toward the valet. His quarry awaited.

Now that we've seen Damian and his mother interact a bit more, what kind of a relationship do they seem to have?