"Yes," I mutter under my breath. "But I would prefer my surname not be discussed openly. My brother Rocco, the newcapo, is a psycho and he might be looking for me as we speak." I try to step back again.
This time it works, and Storm’s hand drops.
"Listen, that thing… it doesn’t matter now. All I need from you is to step into that booth and shake Salt’s hand. Everything else is for later. And no need to worry about us telling anyone."
"Dude, really? You seem obsessed with this stepping-inside-and-shaking-hands thing. Can’t you see? I’m not a suitable candidate here. My bank account is loaded, but it’s out of my reach for now. Rocco would track me down by monitoring the transactions."
Storm closes his eyes briefly, as if gathering strength and pushing his impatience aside.
"There are things you do not know yet. Salt has additional options when it comes to purchasing his contract. If it is confirmed that Salt is your True Mate, a lot of things could change for the better, for both of you."
I jerk my head slightly in irritation, then take a deep breath and mutter, "Fine!"
There’s no point in arguing with him any further. Storm seems to have only one mode,go in there and shake his hand, and he’s blind and deaf to any voice of reason.
"Okay." The purple straightens and brushes some imaginary dust from my shoulder. His brows are still furrowed when he adds, "Do not let Salt’s behavior put you off. He can be very… salty."
"Whatever."
Finally, he steps back and we head toward the booth. Salt is still absorbed in the stack of papers in front of him.
The case handler, on the other hand, looks at me sideways.
"We’re going in," Storm says firmly, ignoring the crease on Gessler’s forehead.
The handler does not reply, but he walks alongside me toward the booth.
That is when Salt reacts for the first time.
He lifts his head, his eyebrows shooting up in genuine surprise. Has no one ever shown interest in his contract before?
The handler opens the door with a card, and I notice that the beta police officer stands up immediately as well and enters the booth with us, making the small space suddenly feel incredibly crowded.
Salt rises to his feet and then suddenly lets out a loud, barking laugh.
"You have got to be kidding me, Storm. Did you actually bring me a hubby candidate?"
His laugh is pretty wild. Well. Not the reaction I was expecting.
I decide not to say anything. Instead, I draw in a breath, a reflex common to any alpha when meeting someone new. Especially a potential romantic interest.
Unfortunately, Salt is a beta, so there is no Allure, though at the edge of my awareness I catch a faint scent, a mix of kiwi and that aromatic fruit called yuzu. It is very subtle, likely from cosmetics rather than his natural scent. It is hard to tell at such a low intensity.
I watch him carefully, my face unfazed, as he laughs, and… he notices. His laughter shifts slightly then, becoming more deliberate, more controlled, if that makes sense.
Now that I see him up close, standing, I can tell he is a slender beta, almost six feet, just as described. His lean build gives him a flexible, catlike vibe.
Up close, his face is feline too, but also beautiful in a wild, sharp, watchful way that makes it hard to look away. I have to blink to keep from staring.
He lifts his gaze as well, and for a moment we lock eyes in a strange staredown, as if we were the only two people in the booth.
Salt’s eyes are unusual. One is black, the other light gray, like smoky quartz, creating an unsettling, distinct contrast. He has long black lashes and beautifully shaped dark brows. His lips are nicely defined too, though right now they curve into a contemptuous smirk.
"Eliano, this is Salt Einarson, a participant in the Second Chance program," Storm begins. "As I mentioned, I have a certain talent that allows me to sense high compatibility between people," he directs these words to Salt. "And although Eliano was not attending our event, I brought him here to confirm or disprove my strong suspicion that he is your True Mate."
Salt’s eyes widen even more, as if he is watching something absurdly comical. He sizes me up again, this time as if he’s carving into me, his pupils sharp as a knife. His laughter only deepens, and in this particular moment I honestly cannot blame him for it.
He crosses his arms over his chest, tilts his head slightly, and taps his foot against the floor.
