Page 17 of The Don’s Omega

“Young,” he says flatly. “And it’s just the two of you.”

“Yes. I’ve been his official guardian since I was nineteen. Our parents died in a car accident.”

Something flickers across his face. It’s gone before I can name it. “I’m sorry,” he says, and it sounds like he means it. So, at least he seems to have a heart.

“Thank you.” I drum up the courage to ask him a question. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

His face softens briefly. “Two younger sisters. My mother is still alive as well. They all live with me.”

“Wow, that must be a big house.”

He shrugs. “Yes. It’s a very big house. We each have our own wings. That way we don’t step on each other’s toes too much.”

“I see.” Then because I’m nervous I foolishly add, “The only wings my apartment has are when Fabio and I DoorDash chicken wings.”

Marcello doesn’t laugh, and I don’t blame him. He does, however, narrow his eyes. Maybe he’s re-thinking this whole thing. Who wouldn’t. I’m acting like a dumbass.

The coffee and cinnamon rolls arrive. Marcello wraps his hand around the mug but doesn’t drink or attempt to eat his roll. His hands are large, his fingers long, and the back of his right hand has more tattoos. There’s a scar on his left forearm, visible below the cuff of his sleeve.

“What do you do for work?” he asks.

“I’m a bartender.” I don’t bother saying where I work. Saying I work at a dive like Duffy’s isn’t exactly a brag.

He gives me one of those measuring looks of his. “With your blond hair and green eyes, I’ll bet you make good tips.” It’s meant as a compliment, but his tone is so detached, it also feels like he’s kicking the tires on a used car, and trying to decide if he wants to buy it or not.

“I do all right.” I pick up my coffee and sip it, wincing when it burns my lips. I set the cup down because my hands are trembling. I haven’t felt this nervous around an alpha in years. I don’t care for it, if I’m honest. But I can’t plausibly tell Kessler I reject Marcello on the grounds that he’s too attractive. “What… what do you do for work?”

He avoids my gaze. “Oh, I own several businesses.”

“I see.” That was definitely an evasive answer. Why be evasive? Uneasiness flutters through me, but I don’t have the nerve to push harder. I barely have the nerve to drink my coffee.

“According to Kessler, we decide the terms of our contract,” he says. “Do you have any thoughts about the duration?”

“Not really.” I let out a shaky breath. “All I’ve really thought about is how to pay for my brother’s surgery.”

His cheek tenses. “You do understand what I need from you though, right? Kessler made that clear to you?”

My face warms. “Yes. Sorry. I know you want an heir. I only meant, up till now, all my focus has been on saving my brother’s life.”

He relaxes slightly. “Fair enough. How about I tell you what I need from you, and then you can tell me if that aligns with your needs.”

“Okay.” Since I have no idea what I want other than his money, it’s best if he starts.

He leans back, looking very businesslike. “I require a three-year commitment of marriage from any omega I contract.”

“Three years?” That’s longer than I assumed.

“Is that a deal breaker for you?”

I hesitate, but truthfully, he could have said five years and I’d still move forward. “No, three years is fine.”

He nods. “I need one heir for sure and possibly two. The omega I contract must live with me for that period of time. If we move forward with each other, you’ll understand why that’s a requirement.”

“You can’t tell me why now?” I frown.

“No. To be frank, the less you know about me, the better. If we don’t move forward, it’s safer for you not to know too much.”

I blink at him and I must look startled because he laughs gruffly.