Kay brings the topic back to Jared.
"Well, at least Jared is happy with Mark. That’s what matters, and he looks beautiful, absolutely radiant," he says as the couple steps onto the dance floor for their first dance.
And he’s right. Jared looks like he’s glowing. His long platinum-blond hair falls all the way to his hips, his snow-white satin suit gleams with a pearly sheen under the lights, and the flawless skin of a nineteen-year-old omega is simply luminous.
Mark Ferguson is, objectively speaking, a handsome man, tall with dark hair and dark eyes, but he is not the kind of energy that would ever draw me in, because something about him feels heavy and dense, as if he were made of low vibrations.
I have this strong feeling that he picked Jared as an addition to his planned political career, and since he is already in his thirties, he decided he finally needed a husband to improve his image in the outside world—a trophy model husband.
I interact with him only while offering congratulations, and thankfully so, because I feel no pull to get any closer or to befriend him. Jared made his choice. I am not his father or his grandfather, and any opinion I might express would only push Jared away from me, and I do not want that. I see that he is smiling and seems genuinely happy, and that is enough for me. If Mark is, in his eyes, the right person to start a family with, I have to respect that.
But that does not stop me from nudging Kay a little while we sit together at the table and new dishes are carried out into the hall.
I ask him what he thinks of Mark and how he sees Jared’s relationship with him.
Kay’s beautiful navy-blue eyes framed by unreal lashes turn toward me with a flicker of shyness. He hesitates and then says, "You know, he’s not the type of man I would find attractive, but Jared thinks that big money comes with big safety…"
I gently bite my lip because, well, Kay also ended up with someone with big money, so it feels a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, although Kay himself comes from a wealthy family, so maybe it makes a different kind of sense for him, a more balanced power dynamic?
Kay glances at me and must read that flicker of confusion on my face.
"It’s hard to explain. The point is that it’s the man who’s supposed to be safe. His money shouldn’t be the reason you feel safe."
I study him for a moment, then I nod, because I realize I know exactly what he means. Big money and a large fortune may look like safety to many omegas, but that is not everything. The person providing these things should be the source of that safety, not the material objects around.
"You’re right," I agree. "I hadn’t really thought of it that way, but there’s something to it. An alpha who can make you feel safe is a real treasure." I whisper it while feeling a tight pull deep in my chest, because I know such an alpha, but I still have to wait before I can win him back.
Patience, Bay, slowly but surely I will get back to you,I whisper inside my own head.
During the reception, Kay and Maurice leave the table to dance.
I use the moment to let my gaze drift toward Ennio.
Right then he turns as if sensing the weight of my stare, and our eyes meet.
I send him a small smile and give a polite nod.
I am not surprised when he does not react in any way.
Soon most couples get up, the dance floor fills, and that is when I decide to do something absolutely insane.
Hey, I am a killer, and killers live wild lives on the edge, right?
I stand and walk toward the table where Anzo and Ennio are sitting.
There are three other people with them. One is a man around fifty whom I recognize from photos online, Vincenzo, Anzo’s cousin, something I know from when I followed this family back in high school, trying to understand how it was possible that one of them helped Bay and me.
The second is basically a kid, maybe fifteen, with a face so beautiful and delicately carved it draws the eye without effort. From what I can tell that must be Eliano Ferro, one of Anzo’s nephews. Next to them sits someone I do not recognize, an omega with strange hair as silver as tinsel and mismatched eyes. His stare locks onto my face and then he blinks like he has just seen a ghost, but of course I ignore him.
With uncharacteristic determination and courage I step closer to their table, offer a stiff bow to Ennio, and say,
"My respects. May I ask you for a dance?"
Absolute silence falls over the table, every eye fixed on me.
Yes, it is not very common for an omega to ask another omega to dance, but it is not unheard of either. Still, that is probably not the issue here. I walked up to a mafia man, I, Alex Strada, a teaching assistant, and casually asked him to dance. Completely insane.
Ennio’s black eyes drill into my face, but to my surprise he nods and stands.
