Page 2 of Unbreak Me

"I see you’re not very positive about this fair, but please try to muster some optimism. Body language, a smile, even your attire—they make a big difference. They really affect how many potential candidates might show interest."

Should I make things harder for him? Absolutely.

"Again with the suggestion that I’m not good enough as I am to attract a husband?" I asked with a sly grin. "Sorry I’m such a gruesome sight. I guess I have to accept that we’re not meant to be." And… I even threw in a fake sob for good measure.

Storm’s glowing eyes darkened slightly. I was really making him work for his paycheck.

The first time he’d pitched this fair to me, a few days ago, he’d had the nerve to suggest I stop taking pheromone suppressants to ‘improve my chances’. It was a rather insolent observation that my looks weren’t enough to catch anyone’s attention. There was no way I was letting him forget that slip-up.

Then came a brief pause as he tried to maintain his professional facade with every ounce of his strength.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I’m not saying that. But you know… there’s always room for improvement. For everyone." His gaze flickered to my sneakers, then back to my face.

Automatically, my eyes shifted to Star Daniels, who was scrutinizing me like I was some old nag that had wandered into the big city. His outfit was the polar opposite of mine: a sheer black mesh blouse paired with leather pants so tight they could’ve been painted on. And his makeup? Impeccable.

Then I glared at his elegant mid-calf boots. They were shiny.

Oh, well.

"We have spare suits here if you’d like," Nolan muttered, "and some shoes…"

"Not interested. I’m perfect as I am!" I pouted, just to rub it in.

Okay, fine—his concern wasn’t entirely unwarranted. I was rocking a dull gray sweater, black sweatpants, and sneakers that had seen better days. The whole drab ensemble did absolutely nothing for me—my complexion already hovered somewhere between ‘sickly’ and ‘zombie-like’.

But why should I even bother? This stupid fair was their idea! There was no way any of the wealthy, vain alphas searching for pretty virgins would want to buy out my matrimonial contract. And they were the main contract buyers at such events—not exactly my type! This was all ridiculous, and I came here with a certain mindset already. Fate’s Choice would pay me the penalty. I was gonna make sure of that!

Nolan stared at me for a moment, his mouth opening like he wanted to say something, then closing again. He probably knew deep down that I was a hopeless case, and he wasn’t wrong.

"Well, it’s your decision," he said at last, with the tone of a man washing his hands of a problem. "In any case, I’ll try to direct suitable candidates your way. But, you know… a lot depends on your, um, attitude."

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered. "Since I’m just oozing charm, I’m sure finding my ‘prince charming’ will be a breeze. Now let’s get to it."

Those unnaturally bright turquoise eyes locked on me again, like he was trying to see past my snarky exterior. Maybe he could? I was hardly a mystery: a leftover omega in my thirties with a weird past and a grumpy personality—not exactly a dream package. He probably pitied me, seeing that bitterness had basically become my defining character trait.

But who wouldn’t be a little cranky after what I’d been through?

My fingers wandered unconsciously to my chest, where under my sweater I wore a pendant with eight holographicimages. But I quickly lowered my hand, clenched my jaw, and kept my eyes fixed on the annoying case guardian.

Nolan sighed—again—clearly deciding that another pep talk would be wasted on me. Instead, he launched into the technical details. "The schedule for today is as follows: Between 9 am and 11 am, contractees will sit in glass booths in the hall while potential counterparts walk around to view them. At 11:30, there’s lunch, but the cafeteria can get pretty crowded, so some people choose to eat in their booths. Then, from 12:30 to 3 pm, it’s back to the booths. After a short break, you’ll finish the day in the booths again from 3:30 to 6 pm."

He paused, waiting for questions, but I just stared at him blankly. He’d had enough of my sass for now.

"Tomorrow’s schedule is the same," he continued, undeterred. "The only difference is that it ends at 5 pm. Now, for every five booths, we’ve assigned one temporary employee to assist. They’ve had only basic training, so anything more complex will be handled by the case guardians—like me. I’ll monitor your booth via surveillance cameras." He gestured to the laptop on his desk. "If I see someone approaching, I’ll come over to assist you immediately."

The enthusiasm in his tone sounded fake, but who could blame him?

"That’s not necessary," I muttered grimly. "You don’t have to treat me like a special case."

For a moment, my gaze landed back on Star Daniels, who had been silently sitting through all of this. Why was he even here? Why wasn’t he already in his booth? The fair was starting soon.

"Mr. Sanderson," Nolan said, slipping back into his polished, professional tone, "you’re very important to us, and we want to help bring this to a happy conclusion."

"Oh, a happy conclusion where you don’t have to pay me and still make a tidy profit from brokering the contract? How generous of you!" I smiled, my tone dripping with sarcasm.

Maybe I should let it go? But then again, they sooo deserve it.

Six months of waiting, only to end up in this humiliating meat market!

---