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“There’s no need for that. Add it to my tab.” His eyes sweep over me again. “Do you have time later? I thought we should?—”
I shake my head before he finishes. “I have a thing tonight.”
The reminder makes me feel even sicker. I’m supposed to report to the Wellington Hotel tonight to officially meet my future fiancé at one of my mother’s auctions. Maybe if I talk to him, he’ll call the whole thing off. It’s my only hope. But then Mother will just find someone else with money and the desire for a fancy name.
“Warren?” Roman’s voice jolts me out of my thoughts. “When will you be done tonight? Can we grab something after? A late dinner, or coff—” He cuts off, chagrined, as he glances at the shop around him. “Or tea?”
My frown returns. Roman’s never invited me out. What’s with the sudden desire to reconnect? It’s not like we were friends in high school. “I don’t know when I’ll be done. It’s one of my mom’s charity things.”
“The Wellington Gala?” When my frown deepens, he shrugs. “My parents are going. We can talk there, I suppose.”
But hadn’t he just asked me to meet up? Did he want me to go to the charity with him? That doesn’t make sense, though. Roman and I don’t socialize outside of his visits to the shop for his morning tea.
Then, I realize Roman will be there to witness me being sold off like the family stud, and my stomach heaves.
Without a word, I turn and sprint for the back room, barely making it to the toilet before I vomit. Only tea and acid come up, and after a moment, my stomach settles once more.
When I push to my feet, Steve hovers in the doorway. “Okay, I know you’re my boss, but I’m sending you home. We can’t have you getting customers sick.”
I don’t think I’m sick, not really, it’s just all the stress and lack of sleep catching up to me. But I nod in agreement. “If Roman’s still at the counter, can you tell him his order is on the house? I’m going to go out the back.”
“Okay, no problem.” Steve pulls a handful of paper towels from the dispenser on the wall and passes them to me. “You should stay home tomorrow, too. Take some meds and get some sleep. I’ll call in Jessica to help.”
Jessica’s our part-timer. She’s always looking to pick up extra shifts.
I nod again. “Okay, sounds good. If you need anything…”
“Go.” He flaps his hand toward the door. “Get some rest.”
As he disappears, I run cold water over my face and neck, then glance at my reflection in the small mirror over the sink. My hazel eyes look a little glassy, my face pale outside of a red tinge to my cheeks. Maybe I am sick.
Wiping my face dry, I take off my apron and head out the back door where I park my car, praying I don’t run into Roman tonight.
Because, sick or not, no excuse will get me out of this gala. Only a miracle will save me from this marriage.
“You’re a business major, right?” Herold asks as he clings to my arm.
The kid zeroed in on me as soon as I stepped into the hotel ballroom and hasn’t left my side since, much to my mother’s delight.
He still looks twelve, despite reassurances he just turned twenty. Did I ever look that young? I don’t think so. He has a softness about his face and body that begs for someone to swoop in and take care of him, but I don’t feel anything, no matter how much he presses up against me. I’ve never been into small guys. Most of the ones I’ve dated have been Betas with muscular builds who can meet my eyes without having to look up. They didn’t expect or seek me out for my Alphaness, either.
Something I’m sure Herold will find lacking in me the longer we’re together, which just turns me off even more.
“That’s not ideal, of course, but Daddy will teach you what you need to know before you take over the family business,” he rambles on, not even requiring my input to keep the conversation going.
Which is good, because, seriously, who still calls their father daddy at his age? If he calls me that in the bedroom, I’ll never get a hard-on. I take another look at his soft cheeks. Not that that’s a possibility, anyway.
While he rattles on about the future I want no part in, I let my attention drift over the room.
The black-tie event pulled in the upper crust of society, and they drift around the room, bidding on the charity items displayed on tables pressed up against the wall. The bigger items will go up for auction after the dinner service, which is scheduled to start in an hour. For now, a string quartet plays on the stage, the soft lilt of violins slipping through the crowd.
Between all the people and Herold, I feel too hot in my suit jacket and tie, but I can’t take them off until cocktail hour. Sweat slips down my spine, and my head still feels fuzzy, even after the three-hour nap I managed to take before coming here. I want to escape outside and cool off, but I don’t see that happening any time soon.
My eyes land on the bar, and I look down at Herold. “Do you want anything to drink?”
His mouth snaps closed mid-word, and I belatedly realize he was still talking. Not that he’d stopped all night. His lips purse, and for a moment, I see the future we’ll have together, filled with his endless nattering over things I don’t care about interspersed with pouty displeasure if I step out of his box of expectations. Which, as he explained in detail, is Alpha arm candy that runs his family business for him while he pops out babies.
Yes, babies had already come up in conversation. He wants one a year until he’s thirty, starting as soon as possible. He even hinted we could start tonight and slipped a key card into the inner pocket of my jacket.
