Damian tossed his wallet and keys onto the round table in his foyer of his flat and dug his phone out of his pocket, hitting Evan's number. Ringing coming from Damian's phone was interrupted by, "Stone, here," as the call connected.
"Resubmit the adoption petition, Evan."
"Damian," Evan sighed, "we've talked about this. You won't win unmated."
"I'm not unmated," Damian responded, grinning to himself, "or, I won't be unmated for much longer. That's the other thing I need to talk to you about."
Silence for several beats, then a suspicious, "What have you done?"
Damian shrugged, opening the fridge and getting himself a beer. "What you told me to do." He twisted the cap off and tossed it across the kitchen into the sink. "I found a mate."
"In six weeks?" Evan asked, his voice rife with disbelief. "Bullshit you did. Hunter's Point's Most Eligible bachelor is a confirmed one."
Damian winced. Good gods, one Society rag voted him that. The corner of his mouth tugged up. Six years in a row. "I found a wonderful woman willing to take a chance on me. Is that so hard to believe?"
"Yes," Evan responded, flatly. "What did you offer her?"
"Being on my arm isn't enough?" Damian's quip was met with silence. Fine. "She wants to go back to school. I told her I'd pay for it."
"And how do you plan to dissolve this mate-pairing once you get what you want?" Evan asked.
"I told her we'd use a common law arrangement." Damian took a long drink from his beer.
"Yeah, I guess that could work. No one's used a common law mate arrangement in at least seventy years, but being that she's a beta-"
Betas were generally his choice of playmate, but... Damian cringed. "She's omega."
Dead air on the other end of the line. "Are you fucking kidding me with this? You want to use a common law arrangement with an omega?"
Damian leaned against the counter. "And she's an Ahern." He almost heard Evan's eyebrows hit the man's receding hairline.
"As in Legislator Ahern?" Evan blew out a breath. "You're not out to make this easy, are you? Have you secured her father's permission?"
Why anybody still bothered with that archaic garbage was beyond him. Damian couldn't imagine having to go to any man and beg his permission to mate-pair with an adult daughter, especially one with as strong a sense of herself as Von had. "Not needed. She was disowned." It was probably way too late to be asking this question, but, "Can it be done?"
"Theoretically? Yeah, I can put together the paperwork, no problem," Evan confirmed. "But is a court going to buy that you found yourself an omega, let alone an omega from a prominent family, in less than two months who, for some reason known only to herself, was willing to accept something as flimsy as a common law mate arrangement instead of the legally ironclad claiming mark? That, I cannot guarantee. Who is this girl, anyway?"
"I've never met anyone like her, Evan. She's just...she's so..." He found himself without the proper words to describe her. Incredible didn't go far enough.
"Wait, is this for real? Are you into her?"
Yes. No. Maybe?
"Where'd you meet her?"
Damian found himself smiling, his thoughts on that awful pink dress. "A club."
"Figures," Evan huffed.
"I need you to put the paperwork together and help me with the contract and the NDA. Clear your schedule for tomorrow morning. I'll bring breakfast."
"Will do. Make those chocolate croissants, will you?"
"Sure. I'm not doing anything else with my night." If he was only making enough for the two of them, it wouldn't take that long. "See you at 9am, sharp."
He disconnected the call, flush with victory. He'd done it. He'd found his accomplice and would soon secure her agreement. Once that was complete, he'd need to establish them in the public eye as a legitimate couple, not that it would be difficult. A handful of very public dates in places they were sure to be photographed and noticed by his peers would be all it would take.
Gods bless that horrible pink dress, he thought, for it had concealed the answer to his prayers. She was the perfect woman – an omega who had no interest in an alpha and was willing to follow through on a scheme that wasn't exactly of the earnest persuasion. Siobhan...Siobhan, Siobhan, brilliant Siobhan.
Beer in hand, he flopped onto a comfy leather couch, and armed with a first and last name, he, once again, pulled up the omega registry. Her file came up, immediately. The picture was really old. A baby-faced young woman with overly styled hair gazed back at him. It had to have been taken just after her first estrous. Had she never taken the updated photo at eighteen? That was odd. He'd have to ask why not.
Full name: Siobhan Elira Ahern. Her initials were S.E.A. No wonder she always made him feel like he wanted to jump into her depths and never come out again.
Age... She was 32 years old? She surely didn't look it. No wonder he'd been unable to find her the first time. And she was a March baby.
Her birthday. They'd met on her birthday. Secretive as she was at the time, she hadn't told him. Had she, he would have treated her to something much better than a mixed drink in a mediocre club.
Status: Unmated. He'd be changing that. He made a mental note to remind Evan to submit the proper documentation to the registry office.
Father: Aaron Lewis Ahern. Political royalty confirmed.
Mother: Marika Farka. Whoa. Actual royalty. Well, deposed royalty, but, still.
The Farkas had ruled an empire of eastern provinces until as recently as fifty years ago. From the looks of it, Von's maternal great-grandfather had been its last emperor. That made Von, what, a grand duchess? An arch duchess? How had a Farka princess ended up mated to a politician from the United Provinces? He had a fervent desire to know how that couple had come to be.
Two siblings: Ailish Orkide, 29, (Beta), and Liam Dritan, 26, (Alpha). Both mated, Liam since just after his 20th birthday.
At the bottom was a file icon with a tiny red flag superimposed over the top of it. Usually, that would indicate that the file's subject was dead or severely infirmed, but could also mean she'd had a prior mating, a history of surrogacy, or children born outside an official pairing. What loaded was none of those things. In fact, this was something he'd never seen before on a registry file.
In bold letters, the message read: "Due to medical needs and/or conditions, this subject is not a fit choice for a mate pairing."
Did she have a terminal disease, or something? She'd seemed healthy enough, and planning her future as far out as she had would suggest that she had no plans to die any time soon. It might be a bit awkward to ask her, Hey, Von, you're not dying, are you?
What could have prompted such a note? What kind of medical condition would be so serious as to preclude an omega from any kind of mate pairing? In light of this, it wouldn't be the worst idea anybody ever had to ask Von if she has dietary restrictions, or cancer.
The possibility that Von might be truly ill brought an unwelcome anxiousness to his chest that squeezed, palpating. She was such a unique soul who'd streaked into his life like a shooting star. The last thing he wanted was for her to burn out prematurely.
His phone burst into the theme of a recent horror movie. His mother's ringtone. He was tempted to let it go to voicemail as he had so many of her calls recently, but if he kept that up, she's show at his office again, and there's be no getting away from her. "Ambrose."
"Damian," came the dry reply. "Where have you been?"
"Around."
"And you're not returning my calls, because...?"
Why not be honest with her for once? "Because I know what you want to talk about, and it's a topic I've quickly grown bored with."
Silence. Then, "What is it you have against Hillary Fang?"
He loosened his tie and slipped it off over his head. "I have nothing against Hillary. She's an accomplished, refined woman with the kind of priorities everyone admires in an omega, and I'm sure she will make some lucky alpha a wonderful mate. That alpha is not, and will never be, me."
"Fine. If you don't like the Fang girl, then we'll look elsewhere. Somewhere, there is an omega who will meet your exacting standards."
Oh, he'd already found her. "Mother, this is not an area in which I need your help. I've never lacked for company."
"So, I've noticed. Carol Letagin sent me some lovely photos of you she found online. You were stumbling out of a bar with some blonde woman."
Demi/Dani/Dora. Not his proudest moment.
"Your problem isn't quantity, my boy." his mother said. "It's quality. A problem you will address and soon."
"Yes, Mother," he said. "I agree."
A suspicious, "You do?"
"I do," he repeated. "In fact, I have a very promising date on Friday with a woman of excellent family."
"That's good to hear. What's her name?"
"If the date goes well, you'll know her name soon enough." That little red flag at the bottom of Von's registry file came back to him. "Mother..." No, don't ask her! She'll put the clues together too easily.
"What?"
"It's nothing. Forget I said anything."
"The clock is ticking, Damian." On that ominous note, his mother's end of the call disconnected.
Why do you think Evan Stone was so skeptical of Damian's speedy mate-pairing?