Within the first forty minutes, two contracts are sold.
Another one goes within the next half hour.
Eventually, only me and one other alpha are left, this guy with tattoos covering half his face, which probably makes buyers hesitate.
I scan the passing omegas myself, and I can feel the anxiety building in my chest.
Not a single one of them is even remotely attractive to me, and it just makes me shut down even more, shrinking further into myself.
I probably look like this tight little ball of stress, tense and panicked, definitely not projectingstrong alphavibes.
They pass by, glance at me, and move on. Good? Kinda. None of them are my type.
What if I have to say no? Apparently, I am allowed to.
That situation comes up soon enough.
An omega approaches who must be well past fifty, maybe fifty-five, with short gray hair, thick glasses, and a complexion so dull it looks like he smokes two packs a day. No. Absolutely not.
When Mr. Gessler opens the booth and asks if I want to speak with him, I shake my head, feeling like shit, desperately avoiding the guy’s gaze.
Over the next hour, it happens three more times. Different people come by, but none of them attract me even a little. None of them come close to Marcel, duh, obviously.
A lot of them look worn out and overworked, their age clearly showing, and I would be signing at least a ten-year contract with someone like that. It’s crushing. I’m not ageist at all, I just prefer people who look healthy and take care of themselves.
In many cases, I doubt I would even be able toget it up.
The third hour rolls around, and I have already turned down four candidates.
Mr. Gessler watches me with visible irritation, muttering something under his breath about me being picky.
When I turn away a fifth person, he steps into the booth.
"Mr. Nolan, I understand not everyone will be ideal, but you have to deal with what is available. Do not be too selective."
I press my lips together. I want to tell him this is a decision that will shape the next decade of my life and I don't want to make it under pressure, but I stay quiet. That is just not how I operate.
So I just nod.
As soon as he leaves, another candidate shows up, this time a beta with teeth so crooked they look like an abstract art exhibit. I have to refuse again, earning one more irritated snort from Gessler.
Right before the lunch break, my cousin Storm arrives.
He’s my official case guardian from Fate’s Choice, and on top of that, a purple alpha. He is supposed to oversee everything related to my contract.
"How’s it going, Gabe? I hear from Gessler you’ve been pretty picky," he says with a grin.
I roll my eyes.
"I wonder how happy you’d be if someone forty years older showed up wanting to buy your contract. I’m not a masochist. I don't mind an age gap, but that is way too much. What would I even talk to someone like that about?"
Storm tilts his head with an ironic smile. Easy for him to say. He already has his True Mate.
"Hey, I’m not judging, and I’m not here to criticize you. Honestly, it might be a good thing, because I think someone might show up who you should seriously consider as a husband."
"Why do you think that? Did you invite someone you know?"
"Yeah. I have a good eye for matches. But this one is… very controversial. So I’m not saying anything. Let’s just let things play out."
