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“Come! You do not need a hostess to have your fellow alphas over!” I laughed.
“So says the daughter of the most famous omega of our times. Surely your sisters would raise their finely arched brows at your urging me to talk omega politics without one of you to keep us in line? Apologies, I meant one of your sisters.”
I giggled into my glass. “My Grace, your Syon—“
“You are drunk!” He said with some surprise. “You aren’t used to drinking… I shouldn’t have poured you that last glass.”
“Perhaps. But my point stands,” I huffed.
“And what point was that? You’ve made many throughout our acquaintance.” He smiled knowing my mind was foggy from drinking too much of his good port. I watched somewhat reluctantly as he took my empty glass away from me. But with my brain so fuzzy, I could feel just about my need to preen just a little in front of this virile alpha. Oh, how I wanted to be an omega like Olivia whom alphas could worship. Syon didn’t even suspect I was an omega. My size, my behaviour… How could he? How could anyone?
I absently blinked at him trying to remember what we had been talking about. Ah. Politics. Alphas. Omegas. My favourite topics seemed so… Trivial perhaps? Why were we talking about serious things when we could be doing serious things.
“Firstly,” I raised a finger. “Alphas are more than able to stand up for omegas. Second. Alphas are more of a mind to listen to other alphas. Therefore alphas talking to alphas without the supposed pressure of omegas...”
“Yes, Puss. I see your point.”
“Good,” I smirked, arms crossing under my breasts before my brow clouded in thought. “Did you call me Puss?” I asked, embarrassed by the endearment.
“You’ve claws but they cause no real damage. I’ve called you Puss many a time and you choose now to notice?” he laughed. “So you will come to a dinner I host and talk politics with my friends?”
“You don’t have friends,” I sobered instantly. It was not an accusation, though perhaps a man as proud as a duke would take it as such. More that, of a sudden, I realised his nights were almost solitary. His days too. Alphas spent their time at private clubs, but most days he was with me. His golden head bent over a letter, squinting a little. For a thought, his eyesight might be weaker than he would admit. If he was not with me, he was at Manton’s—how I wished to go!—or with Jackson to box.
“You are my friend. But in general, you are correct. I am not friendly with those I am not familiar with,” he said with equal gravity. “But in politics, you might call an alpha a friend over the table and curse him behind his back.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” I said with confidence. “You would never pretend.”
“Except with you. I am pretending in order to woo my future duchess. How exactly did you convince me? I must have been mad.”
“Most likely,” I grinned, but it was forced.
