Chapter 2

Max's POV 

I stood at the bar, nursing a glass of scotch as I scanned the crowded room. The charity gala was in full swing, the city elite of werewolves mingling, laughing with one another. 

Soft strains of live jazz filtered across the room with clinking glasses and the hum of polite conversation. I had been seen, it would appear I was supposed to be seen, but growing in my tummy all night, the feeling of being uneasy wouldn't leave me.

As I prepared to turn away, my glance met that of one of my friends-an Alpha too and a close one-Lucas. An eyebrow shot up, accompanied by a mischievous grin.

"Hey, Max, still flying solo, I see," he said loudly enough for the whole room to hear.

I felt a burst of anger but kept my cool. "Just enjoying the evening, Lucas," I said with a neutral tone.

But Lucas wasn't quite done. "You know, Max, some of us are starting to wonder if you're ever going to find a mate," he jeered. "Maybe you're just not cut out for it."

I felt the flush of his anger, but bit back the retort, knowing full well Lucas was only trying to get a rise from me. But damn, it wasn't easy to swallow. I finally turned away, but not before catching the eye of another Alpha, a rival of mine: Victor.

"Maybe he can't find a mate because nobody wants him," Victor sneered, and my temper flared.

That did it, I'd had enough. I turned and walked away, pushing through the crowds of people, out into the cool night air. I didn't stop until I was through the back door, walking down a dimly lit corridor.

Above, the fluorescent lights shone down with pitiless harshness upon a hallway whose aesthetic could best be summed up as institutional. I walked quickly, the sound of my footsteps echoing off the wall, trying to get as much space between myself and the gala as possible.

And with this walking, I could not get rid of that feeling of unrest grown inside me since nightfall. I knew that something had to be done, that somehow I needed to prove to the world I was still somebody. But how?

I was so caught up in my musings that I hadn't even noticed the petite figure standing right in front of me. It wasn't until she bumped into me, her small body colliding with mine, that I realized she was there.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed out of breath.

I looked down at her, taking in the rumpled appearance of a small woman with dark brown hair framing her pale features and hazel eyes that seemed to hold a thousand tears. Her face was pale and drawn, and her eyes had a haunted look I couldn't place.

"It's okay," I said, softer than I meant. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

She looked up at me, and our eyes met in the middle of the stare. We just stared at each other, the only sound being the hum of the fluorescent lights above.

Then, she turned and walked away without uttering another word, leaving me standing alone in the corridor.

I turned to leave, but my steps faltered when the sound of desperate sobs echoed down the corridor. Instantly, my ears perked up, and my eyes did a quick sweep of the hallway, following that sound of the sobs. And then, I saw her: the tiny figure who just a moment earlier had bumped into me.

She took another couple of steps further inside the building, her shoulders shaking with sobs, and suddenly I was aware of the fragility in the slope of her shoulders, the desperation in the set of her gaze. And then her scent hit me-a sweet, musky aroma unmistakably omega.

Something in me stirred, and my Alpha instincts came to the fore. A wave of protectiveness overcame me-the need to shield this fragile omega against the world, to wipe away her tears. And then, one calculating thought crept into my head-this could be the opportunity I've been waiting for.

I followed her noiselessly, my feet silent on the carpeted floor. She did not appear to notice me, too enwrapped in her misery. I watched her as she stopped before a line of lockers, fumbling with the combination lock.

She opened the locker and reached inside, pulling out a jacket that had seen better days. I stepped forward-my voice low, smooth. "Excuse me," I said, my eyes on hers.

She whirled, her eyes wide with surprise. Then she saw me-saw me-and her eyes fell, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I didn't mean to."

I cut her off with my voice firm yet soft. "No need to apologize," I said, getting straight to the point. "I'm here to make you a proposition."

Her eyes flickered up to mine, a spark of curiosity igniting in their depths. "A proposition?" she repeated, her tone wary.

I nodded, my gaze locked in with hers. "Yes, I am willing to give you a contract marriage-in exchange for enough money to pay for your mother's surgery and see to all of your family's needs. I'm so sorry, but I couldn't help overhearing everything you said… and I thought I'd lend a helping hand in return for that little favor from you.".

Her eyes flew wide, her face a picture of shock. Then another emotion seeped in-a glimmer of hope.

"What do you mean?" she whispered.

I smiled, refusing to break the stare. "I mean I'll provide for you and your family in return for your. cooperation."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Marriage…you will become my wife…but only on paper and I will give you all the money you need to treat your mother and give her the life she deserves," I said, enunciating and pacing my words as if to make sure it sank in.

"What do you say, omega?