Page 40 of The Alpha's Fake Mate
He took a deep breath and settled his shoulders, back stiff and chest thrust out.
“There will be all Alphas in there, right?” he asked with a toss of his head.
“Some will have their Omega mates with them. And this particular restaurant has an Omega cook that is amazing.”
He nodded curtly.
It was early in the afternoon, though, so I knew the place would not be busy. Better for Holland to acclimate himself to eating out.
“And my attire?” he asked.
“You look fine.”
It didn’t seem to be what he wanted to hear, but he turned to face the front doors.
I led us through them. Holland stayed quite close to my side, which I tried not to enjoy too much. Truly, I didn’t want him to hate me even more than he already did.
Already the aromas of lasagna, chicken parmesan and fine wines greeted us. My stomach rumbled in anticipation.
The tables all had candles flickering in orange jars. A single red rose stood in a faceted crystal vase on every red and white checkered tablecloth. Music played softly in the background.
An Alpha greeted us with a big smile, and a lot of black curls nearly obscured his vision. “Welcome! Take any seat you’d like.”
Holland glanced about, then nodded toward a corner. I decided it was perfect. Privacy would be best as he learned to relax in public now that he was no longer locked away on a farm.
“That one?” I lifted my hand toward the corner as we walked toward it. “It’s just fine.”
An Alpha waiter brought us menus and offered us wine. Without thinking, I ordered two glasses of white.
Holland said, “Water, please.” He stared at the Alpha waiter as if waiting for him to argue.
But the Alpha smiled and said, “Of course.”
I had not meant to order for him. But he didn’t say a word. He picked up the menu and from what I could see began at the top of the first part and read every word.
When he put the menu down, he gazed at me, his eyes tight and wary as usual. He said, “I didn’t eat any of my lunch today back at the farm. So I would like to try the cheese ravioli. We have an Omega cook at Zilly’s that fries it so the edges are crisp, but it’s soft on the inside.”
I nodded, smiling. “The ravioli here is good.”
He took a breath as if about to speak, then stopped.
“What?”
“If I think of the outside as just a sort of farm itself, only bigger and allowing Alphas to freely roam, I am certain I can become used to it.” He glanced about the restaurant, looking at the customers at other tables. Some were Alphas, but a few Omegas sat with Alpha mates.
“They will all think we are together?” he asked.
“For all intents and purposes, I have legally claimed you. We must never speak of it as anything other than very real. You understand?”
“Yes.” He swallowed. “I understand you get to play the hero once again.”
Despite his cutting remark, a tiny needle-like thrill shot through my chest. The more he made an effort not to be subservient, the more he ingratiated himself to me. If he knew it was my predilection, he’d probably stop talking altogether.
“I would not have ever allowed you to be sent to Bosk,” I quipped back.
He sat back, his shoulders against the chair top, his hands in his lap. The candlelight played across the angles of his face, offsetting his beauty. Shadows flitted in his eyes. His hair brushed gently against the line of his jaw.
“It’s for the best. I probably would have killed him.” He said the word lightly as he stared over my shoulder.
