Chapter 5: First Dinner

I changed into the nicest dark jeans I owned and a navy button-down shirt, the only outfit I had that wasn’t meant for funerals or job interviews.

The door opened without a knock. Martin stepped in, his hands clasped behind his back in that formal way of his.

“Mr. Noah? I’m here to escort you to the dining hall.”

I nodded, glancing at the scattered clothes still on the bed. "I’ll deal with them when I get back," I thought.

I followed him through the long corridors. The dining hall was enormous, and there's a long, polished table that could easily seat twenty people.

Ethan sat at the head, scrolling on his tablet. The moment I stepped inside, he looked up, eyes locking on me, and gestured to the chair immediately beside him.

I sat down slowly, hyperaware of every movement. His Alpha scent hit me like a quiet wave, it made my Omega instincts purred, urging me to lean closer, to relax into it, to trust. I locked every muscle in place and stared straight ahead.

A woman I hadn’t seen before appeared with the first course. A creamy soup I was pretty sure had a French name I’d never pronounce right. I picked up the spoon, but my hand trembled so badly the silver clinked against the bowl.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Ethan said quietly. “It’s just dinner.”

“I’ve never eaten in a room that costs more than my entire education,” I shot back before I could stop myself.

The corner of his mouth twitched, almost, but not quite, a smile. “Fair point.”

We ate in silence for a while. The soup was impossibly good, velvety, rich, better than anything I’d ever made or been served. I was so focused on not spilling it that I didn’t notice Ethan watching me until I lifted my head and found his gaze fixed on mine.

Everything in me froze.

His eyes weren’t cold or clinical like they’d been earlier. They were dark, intense, almost hungry. Like he was seeing something he hadn’t expected. My pulse slammed against my throat. Heat crawled up my spine and into my face. I dropped my gaze fast, staring at the half-eaten soup like it might save me.

I could feel him still looking. The air between us thickened, causing my skin to pickle. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to ask what he was thinking. I wanted to look up again and see if that look was still there. But I forced myself to remain still, unable to continue eating.

“Tell me about yourself,” Ethan said suddenly, breaking the tension.

I startled. “What?”

“I realized I don’t know much about you. Beyond the obvious.”

“There’s not much to tell.” I forced a small, dry laugh. “I worked retail and delivery jobs before this. I like reading. I’m good at being forgettable.”

“Why would you want to be forgettable?”

“It’s easier than being compared to someone better and coming up short every time.”

The words came out sharper, more bitter than I meant. Ethan’s eyes sharpened too. He squinted slightly, studying me like he was trying to see past the surface for the first time.

“Is that what you think? That you’re lesser?”

“I don’t think it. I know it.” My voice cracked on the last word. 

“Tommy was the golden child. Charismatic, strong-scented, everything an Omega should be. I was the spare parts. The one nobody notices unless I’m standing next to someone worth noticing.”

“That must have been difficult.”

I shrugged, trying to make it casual. “It’s just how things are. I made peace with it a long time ago.”

“Did you?”

The quiet question caught me off guard. Before I could answer, Martin appeared with the main course: perfectly seared steak, roasted vegetables arranged like a painting, some kind of herb sauce I didn’t recognize. The interruption saved me from having to respond.

We ate again in silence, but it wasn’t the same. The air felt heavier now, like something had cracked open between us and neither of us knew how to close it.

“The first pack dinner is tomorrow night,” Ethan said eventually. “Most of the high-ranking members will be there. They’ll want to meet you properly.”

My stomach plummeted. “Tomorrow?”

“Is that a problem?”

“I just thought I’d have more time to prepare.”

“How do you mean?”

I set my fork down harder than I intended. “Let’s say… to learn how to act like I belong here. Figure out what I’m supposed to say. Not embarrass you in front of your pack.”

Ethan placed his own fork down carefully and turned to face me fully. “You don’t need to be anyone other than yourself. I’m not asking you to perform.”

“Yes, you are.” My voice came out low but steady. “That’s exactly what this whole arrangement is. A performance.”

He didn’t answer. Because I was right, and we both knew it.

After dinner, I escaped back to my suite. I rearranged the clothes on the bed, folded everything, hung what needed hanging—small, mindless tasks to keep my hands busy.

When I was done, I called Sarah.

“How is it?” she asked the second she picked up.

“Weird. Uncomfortable. It feels like playing dress-up in someone else’s life.”

“And Ethan?”

“He’s polite. Distant. Exactly what you’d expect from someone who hired a stand-in mate.”

“I hate this so much.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

We talked for almost an hour about safe, ordinary things. Dad’s treatment was going smoothly, her next shift was a double, the neighbor’s cat kept sneaking into our apartment again. Normal life felt impossibly far away, like it belonged to another person.

After we hung up, I stood at the window staring out at the dark forest. Somewhere out there, pack members were living real lives. Tomorrow I’d have to walk into a room full of them and pretend I belonged at Ethan’s side.

I pulled the curtains closed and climbed into the massive bed. It was too soft, too big. I curled up on one side and tried not to think about the way Ethan had looked at me across the table.

Suddenly, there's a soft knock on the door. Before I could respond, the door opened Martin stepped inside.

“Mr. Noah, Alpha Ethan requests your presence.”

My heart lurched into my throat. I sat up fast, sheets pooling around my waist.

“Now?”

Martin inclined his head. “He’s waiting in his study.”

I stared at the butler, my pulse roaring loudly in my ears. “It’s almost midnight. What does he want that can’t wait until morning?”

Martin’s expression remained perfectly neutral. “He did not say, sir. Only that it is important.”