Page 9 of Faking It with the Omega

Eleanor laughs, clapping her hands. “Oh, that sounds just like him!”

“So where was the first date?” Lucie asks, leaning in.

“A diner near—” Aiden starts.

“We saw a movie,” I say.

Lucie blinks. Eleanor raises an eyebrow. Aiden clears his throat, his jaw setting. “We... saw a movie and then went to the diner after,” he stammers.

“We couldn't agree on the vibe,” I add, stepping in before he spirals. “So we compromised. I bought the food, he brought the sarcasm.”

Eleanor chuckles, patting my arm. “Well, I’m glad someone can see past that grumpy exterior to the Jed we know underneath.”

I look over at Aiden. He’s looking away, but a deep pink is dusting his cheekbones, his weight still warm against my side.

“Speaking of grumpy,” Lucie mutters, her eyes flicking toward the far side of the room. “Dad’s coming over.”

The warmth vanishes instantly. I feel Aiden’s muscles turn to steel. His sweet scent dampens as his father, a tall, gray-haired alpha in a sharply tailored tuxedo, approaches. He’s got the kind of heavy mahogany, classically alpha scent that’s trying far too hard to assert dominance.

“Aiden,” his dad says, his voice clipped. “You made it. And only,” he checks his watch, an ostentatious, expensive-looking lump of gold, “half an hour late. I was beginning to think this was another family function you were going to skip.”

Aiden’s jaw clenches. “Hi, Dad.”

“And who is this?” he turns to me, giving me an assessing look that’s clearly meant to be intimidating, pushing out a wave of alpha pheromones that sends a streak of something territorial straight through me. I force myself to maintain my sunny smile and pull Aiden impossibly closer. “Richard Fraser.”

“Jed Harrison,” I say, taking his hand. I hold his grip firmly.

“Jed is Aiden’s boyfriend, Dad,” Lucie interjects. “He’s a trainer at Aiden’s gym.”

“A trainer,” Richard repeats with quiet disdain. “I see. Well, I suppose that explains it.”

“Explains what?” I ask smoothly, irritation already prickling under my skin.

“It makes sense that someone who spends all day in a gym would be able to tolerate Aiden’s… unique stature,” he says with a thin smile. “He’s never quite fit the mold of a proper omega.”

It feels like someone has sucked all the air out of the room. The other guests continue to chatter around us, oblivious to the conversation happening in their midst. Eleanor looks at the floor. Lucie is quietly fuming. A glance at Aiden tells me he’s already mentally checking out, most likely resisting the urge to bite back out of respect for his sister.

“You’re right, in a way,” I say, grinning through my teeth and pushing down the rage threatening to boil over. “I’ve rarely seen an omega or an alpha with as much raw physical talent as Aiden in all my time as a trainer. Not even when I was boxing at a professional level myself. I guess a lot of alphas are intimidated by that kind of power.” I lean into Richard’s space, giving him a wry grin. “Not me. His strength was what attracted me to him in the first place.”

Richard blinks, his upper lip curling like I’ve just spat in his whiskey. Aiden’s scent warms, his posture straightening just a little as his arm snakes around my waist. Eleanor smiles politely, and Lucie’s eyes are darting between me and her father like she’s watching a high-stakes game of tennis.

“It’s a shame none of that talent can amount to anything more than a hobby,” he says curtly. “From what I understand, there’s not a weight class in omega boxing that would accommodate an omega of Aiden’s size.”

I nod slowly. “It’s still a pretty outdated sport, in a lot of ways. But rules are made to be broken. There wasn’t a featherweight class in alpha boxing until the late 90s. We’ve been thinking about starting a new omega division, actually, hosting fights at the gym. It wouldn’t be pro-level, yet, but if it gained enough traction,” I shrug, grinning across at Aiden, “who knows. Maybe eventually Aid could go pro.”

Lucie clasps her hands together in delight. “How exciting!” she chirps.

Richard’s lips draw into a tight, thin line, his scent flaring combatively.

“Now,” I say, breaking the tension before I say something else I might regret, “if you'll excuse us, I promised Aiden a drink.”

I can feel Richard’s eyes on our backs as we walk away, but when I glance across at Aiden he’s actually smiling for once.

“Holy fucking shit,” he mumbles, the grin threatening to break his whole face apart. He looks fucking radiant. “You didn’t need to say all that.”

“I know,” I grin. “I wanted to. I know you said he was an asshole, but I thought he might ease into it, you know. But he was straight in there with the assholery.”

Aiden rumbles a noise of agreement. “That’s my dad, alright. You weren’t being serious about the new division thing, though, right? That was just to piss him off?”