Page 31 of Forget
I want her name, but know I have to be patient and careful not to reveal my cards too soon. I can wait, even if I don’t want to.
Picking up a menu for appearance sake, the hostess sighs. “She’s been in here four times in the last month with different packs,” she says. “It’s clear that she’s vetting and searching for the right one. Unfortunately, I think she’s playing it too safe.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, following her through the tables. It’s busy enough that no one gives us a second glance, and I need all the intel possible before I sit down next to Pack Dayton to eavesdrop.
After all, information is power, and I plan to hold all the cards.
“They’re all boring, judgemental, and treat her like shit,” the hostess says before coloring in embarrassment. “I may have snuck by a few times, and the waitresses have all been as well. I swear we didn’t mean anything by it, it’s just?—”
“Just what?” I ask, uncertain if I should be amused or irritated on my poppet’s behalf.
I fucking hate catty bitches.
“Omegas take care of their own, or should,” she mutters. “My boss is an alpha and checks on the table personally whenever she comes in. Her drinks are taken away often with a new cup given, so she never notices. The world isn’t a safe place, and I commend her for what she’s doing. Here’s your table, Sir.”
“Thank you,” I say sincerely with a nod as I sit down. The girl practically curtsies as she leaves, making me smirk. Clearly, everyone has my little omega’s best interests in mind in this restaurant.
“Well, she’s clearly an easy lay if we’re looking for something like that,” an alpha from Pack Dayton says, bored.
Well, everyone but the twatcicles next to me.
“Eh, we aren’t. I’m sure Ophelia wouldn’t mind hooking her up with a life long indenture though,” another one says, snickering.
Fuck no.I don’t know what it is, but not even the boring hedge fund guys are safe anymore. That’s what they look like to me, anyway. Madam Ophelia runs an auction, and her favorite form of inventory is omegas. There’s no way in hell I’ll allow my omega to end up there.
I’m not a good alpha, and I have to admit that my obsession is going to become unhealthy and depraved, but if anyone is going to have her it will be me.
“Taylor, I think that’s taking your whole transactional approach too far,” another alpha with them says. They all have the same perfect short hair and shit brown colored eyes. They look like cookie cutter alphas, and I can feel my blood pressure beginning to rise as I take a deep breath.
Ugh, they even smell terrible. No wonder she left. It’s turning my stomach, and I toss aside my menu, already over my ruse.
Just say her name, or give me a reason to fuck you all up.Either way, I win.
“What am I supposed to think? Aisling said she wanted someone to fuck during her heats, but not to keep? It makes me feel cheap,” Taylor mumbles.
“So you feel like she needs to be sold to stroke your poor little ego?” the alpha says with a snort. They’re quiet while their food arrives, and I notice a man in a dress suit with rolled up sleeves and jeans is standing behind the waitress.
“Did your date leave? Is she sick?” the man asks, and I realize this is the manager who checks in on her.
There really are good people in the world.
“She wasn’t a good match,” Taylor says with a shrug. “We aren’t interested in whores.”
Anger banks in the manager’s gaze but he nods. “Have a good meal,” he grunts before beginning to walk away.
Having all the information I need from these douchebags, I lurch onto my feet, following the manager.
“Hey man, can I talk to you for a minute?” I ask, just as he reaches the hostess station. Fuck, this guy is booking it.
“Yeah, but I have to admit I’m in a shit mood,” he grunts, turning.
“He’s the date girl’s brother,” the hostess says helpfully. “Did you hear anything about their date?”
“Other than wanting to sell her?” I growl, seeing their eyes grow wide.
“Not in my restaurant,” the guy mutters. Pulling out his phone, his fingers fly across the screen. “Did they say to who?”
“Madam Ophelia,” I mutter softly.