Page 6 of One Last Chance

“Yes. I’ve been doing it for almost a decade. It’s pretty boring, I suppose, sitting at a computer and crunching data all day, but…well, it’s what I do best. What about you?”

He doesn’t even have to answer. The expensive watch around his wrist, the well-made suit, this restaurant. An alpha like himis far beyond my level. No way someone like this would be interested in me. There has to be some catch.

“I run my own company. It mostly revolves around stocks and…other boring business ventures. I work quite a bit. Something I do well, too,” he says with a playful smirk.

He sounds like an upstanding guy. So my chances of this at least being an enjoyable one-night stand are probably pretty low. For some reason, the thought weighs on me and makes me wish I had ordered something stronger to drink.

“You sound pretty well-rounded if I’m honest. What is a good-looking, successful alpha like you doing on a blind date arranged by his mother?” I know the question could be taken in the wrong way, so I observe his reaction carefully.

He raises his brows and blinks, but then his face returns to that reserved expression, complete with that faint, crooked smile. “Huh. Your honesty is quite refreshing,” he chuckles and swiftly takes a sip of his whiskey.

Am I making him flustered?There's a faint scent I keep catching a whiff of. It must be his pheromones, or at least I think it is him. People sometimes emit them when they’re nervous or high-strung. It’s barely noticeable, but smells like figs and tall grass.

I shiver.Can he…smellmypheromones?I used my best perfume, hoping to mask it as much as possible. But what is the point, really? If this were to go anywhere, he would need to find out eventually. And once he does, he’ll only be able to stand sleeping with me maybe once or twice before gradually pulling away. Just because of my stupid, shitty scent.

I’m tired of this recurring nightmare.

“I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?” he asks, voice tense with concern.

Lifting my eyes to him, I quickly shake my head. “No. No, sorry, I was just…”God, what am I even doing?“To be frank,I’m a little disillusioned by my romantic prospects and, you know, the future. Dating is supposed to be fun and easy, but it isn’t. I know this is the sort of heavy shit you’re not supposed to say on a first date but—”

“No. Not at all!” he blurts. I cock my brows in disbelief and meet his eyes. They have this spark in them now. “Actually, for me, this was…this is the last blind date I’m letting my mother push me into. Not because of you, of course!” Lifting his hands, he laughs, showing his perfectly straight, white teeth. “More like because there are far too many factors; too many hopes and disappointment to contend with. It’s…good to hear someone else express the sentiment without sugarcoating it.”

The smile he gives me makes my heart hiccup. His scent again.Oh no. Don’t fall for the pheromone-laced spell of any alpha that gives you the tiniest bit of kindness.

I don’t know what to do with myself, so I dart my eyes between Rowland and the glass of melting ice, gin, and tonic I’m nervously swirling in my hand.

I allow myself to flirt a little. To use that husky, raspy undertone I know can do the trick. “I find it really hard to believe someone like you hasn’t found anyone in all this time.” I still feel bad even considering seducing this poor guy. He seems too good. Too good to deal with an insufficient omega like me.

His hand tightens around his own glass, now nearly empty. “I think my ex-wife would have disagreed,” he says with a bitter smile and, for the first time, looks away.

A divorcee, huh? Not the worst thing in the world.

“I find it hard to believe someone like you has found no one in all this time.”

As he chuckles and clears his throat, he opens his mouth to move around the saliva pooling at the bottom, probably from the nervousness he's trying to hide.

I can’t help but wonder how he’d taste on my lips. Would it be similar to his scent?

Dayton…you haven’t had sex in far too long.

“Anyway,” I continue, trying to redirect my attention in a more productive direction, “divorce is common these days. It’s like, what, fifty percent of marriages or something? Half the people in my office are divorced. Often more than once.”

Rowland tilts his head, studying me. I really hope I’m not emitting my pheromones. I wouldn’t want to ruin this conversation. I’m actually enjoying being here.

“I suppose… She was a beta. My wife,” he clarifies, the spark in his voice dimming just a little. I raise my brow and stop playing with the glass.

It’s not like alphas and omegas being with betas is something unusual, but I wouldn’t say it is the first choice, either. Many firmly believe that no alpha or omega can find true happiness and satisfaction with a beta. He must have truly cared for her.

“Is that why you split up?” I continue poking at this scar he presented me, and find myself irresistibly interested in him. Even if he’s still nothing but a stranger. Just the freshness of not having to play this…courting gameis thrilling. We’re speaking honestly now, and I love that. I want more of it.

Rowland’s eyes fall again. “At the risk of completely ruining my chances, she…found it a little too hard to deal with the whole second gender aspect.”

Suddenly, it’s like someone made a hole in my chest. His voice is so tender, like me poking at that scar just opened it raw, and I feel like an absolute idiot.

“I’m sorry, that’s—”

The waitress saves me from further embarrassment when she appears with plates of steaming food in both hands. We both order another round of drinks—this time, I get rum.

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