Arriving at the gala alone was not ideal, given the lie hanging over my head, but not showing up at all would’ve been far worse. It had been bad enough at home that I left early to avoid the awkward questioning over where my date was and why wasn’t he respecting me enough to show up at my front door like a good alpha should? Not that I’d said my date was an alpha, but it was their assumption. A part of me wanted to show up with another omega or a beta just to see their faces. That part of me never would act, but it was fun to think about.

As always with these events, everything was about the show. Who was there? How large was the check they accidentally let all the people see? And, in many cases, who wasn’t there, or who always came up just short on an auction bid? It was a people watcher’s dream come true. Unfortunately, most of them couldn’t afford the thousand dollar plate. Not that I could, but since one had been provided for me, there I was.

At least the event was worthy. More than. The money was divided amongst a number of different charities that focused on the wellbeing of omegas. Some focused on the political, which was sadly needed given our current political environment, but most focused on helping omegas in need, the largest and most recognizable being Omega House.

Omega House was one of those places that somehow managed to do it all and do it well. They housed, fed, and educated omegas who escaped the worst of realities. When I first started working for my father, I’d tried to convince him that the firm should take some more pro bono cases for their residents as a way to give back. He assured me this stupid dinner was enough. It wasn’t, but at least it was something.

I stepped into the doorway, skipping the red carpet bologna, complete with flashing bulbs and enough ass kissing to make most want to vomit, but something the city’s elite seemed to eat up. Once inside I prepared for the inevitable confrontation with my parents in the most adult way possible; I headed for the bar.

The room was packed with men in suits designed to show off their wealth as much as flatter their asses, women wearing glued on fake eyelashes and even faker smiles, and wait staff yes sir-ing everyone to death as they plied them with liquor. From my estimation, I had a good half hour before dinner to get my drink on. The main dining room was still closed off so we could all ohh and ahh about how amazing it looked when they finally called us in.

“Beer please,” I asked the bartender when I finally caught his eye, pointing to the tap. I had no idea what was going to come out of it, but as long as something did, it didn’t matter.

“Ten dollars,” he said as he set my far-too-light looking beer down. I knew it was a fundraiser, but ouch, that was a lot of money for what was by all appearances crappy beer. I fished out my wallet, putting down a ten just as a hand passed in front of me, handing the bartender a twenty.

“Keep the change,” said the last voice I wanted to hear. Andrew. Of freaking course. In all my scheming I’d forgotten he had a ticket, my date or not. And from his actions, it appeared he was still thinking date. No one could even rationalize he was being generous for the cause either, since the extra money went straight into the bartender’s pocket.

“No thank you,” I replied, leaving the ten on the counter. I was so not in the mood. I turned and made it two steps out before his hand set on my shoulder.

“An omega should not have to pay for their own drinks. What kind of date do you have that would leave you along at an event such as this?” Creeper slipped his hand into my jacket pocket, presumably to return my ten.

I took a giant step back. As much as I was trying to not cause a scene, there was no hiding what I was doing—putting distance between us. I was not one to play coy on a good day, and especially not with someone who thought my personal space was his to evade.

“My date is none of your concern, but I would appreciate you respecting him enough to keep yourself at a respectable distance.” I shouldn’t be digging myself in any deeper than I already was with my nonexistent date, but fuck it. He was a creepy asshat.

Instead of backing away and politely disappearing into the crowd, Andrew took a step closer, closing the small space between us. “I will see you at dinner, where your seat is next to mine,” he said in my ear, and my body stiffened. What was wrong with him? There was no way I could stay through dinner now, not if he was taking such bold steps when he was very clearly denied.

“I’d prefer you didn’t get so close to my date.” A stern, yet quiet voice came from behind me. A voice I’d recognize anywhere. Parker. Parker was claiming me as his. “You know how possessive I can be of things that are mine, Andrew.”

Holy. Cow. Did Parker just call me his?