Page 28 of Broken Omega

“He gave me an ultimatum.”

“What kind of ultimatum?”

Oh, she knows.I can tell by her expression.

Of course he told her. He’s already got Geraldine stumbling over herself to get me matched off to a suitable Alpha, but why have one little helper when you could have two? Not that Prentice has any real sway over me, or the Alphas who visit. I’m a little curious now, I’ll admit.

She raises an eyebrow, reminding me she’s still waiting for my answer.

I shrug as I lean back in my seat. “It’s fairly typical as far as ultimatums go. It’s the kind where I pick the least rotten apple out of a bad bunch by the end of the year, or he chooses one for me.”

“The least rotten apple,” she murmurs.

Maybe it’s my imagination, but for a second, her lips look like they’re twitching.

“I realize I’ve probably been too fussy. I mean, an apple’s just an apple, right? They all taste the same in the end. And, besides, I’ve heard it’s possible to just cut the rotten parts right off,” I add, giving her a sweet smile as I make a chopping motion with my hand.

“Um …” She smooths over the knee of her pant suit, blinking slowly before she finds the thought she wants to finish. “I understand your concerns about finding an appropriate mate, and we should talk about those, but I think it might be more productive to avoid using metaphors.”

“If you insist,” I tell her.

She takes in a breath and smiles. “Okay. I’m going to record our conversation now, if that’s all right with you?”

Shit.Talk about turning the tables. Now I’m the one who’s struggling to find the right words.

I mean clearly the right words are, ‘No, fuck off,’ but that’s not what my father wants to hear.

He wants to hear me talk about what I want in an Alpha.

I watch, stunned as she takes a phone-sized recording device from her jacket pocket and places it on the coffee table that’s separating us. It suddenly occurs to me how easy it would have been for her to record me without telling me.

“Brooke?” she asks. “I need your consent for the recording.”

“Can’t you just take notes, like a normal therapist?” I ask, my tone already frosting over.

I’ll be punished if I don’t meet my father’s expectations, and I know it.

It might not make a huge difference in the grand scheme of things, but I really don’t want to be forced down the aisle in two months instead of twelve.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I have to supply a tape for every session from now on. We can take breaks if you need to, just give me a hand signal to cut, and I’ll pause the recording. Okay?”

Why does that tiny kindness make my eyes tear up?

She’s just trying to handle me. She doesn’t actually care if I don’t want to do this. It’s her job, and she has my father’s orders to comply with. She only wants to make sure she does what’s been asked of her, because otherwise the undoubtedly insanely high compensation she’s being rewarded will feel unwarranted and she’ll be fired and probably blacklisted from her profession.

Yeah, my father really knows how to motivate people.

I wait until the emotional surge that made me teary passes to nod slowly.

Prentice lets out a sigh and smiles as she presses the record button on her device.

“This is session number three hundred seven with Brooke Corvina, and Doctor Carolyn Prentice.”

God, she makes it sound so official.

“Now, Brooke, I understand that you have some concerns over finding an appropriate mate. Would you please state your main concern for the record?”

This is it, I guess. I could sit here and play nice to get through the next hour without becoming homicidal, or I could tell her where to go and expect to be getting fitted for a wedding dress in about two weeks’ time.

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