Page 7 of Accept Me (Fate’s Choice #4)

Honestly, underneath all those tattoos and bijoux, he wasn’t bad-looking.

His face had sharp, symmetrical features and sensual full lips.

If he hadn’t been going for that full-on bad boy edgy aesthetic, he might have been strikingly attractive.

Maybe even beautiful. But his whole vibe kind of killed the appeal.

Not everyone was brave enough to go near someone who looked like a walking ad for a tattoo and piercing parlor, and who opened conversations with total strangers by throwing insults.

I’d once been tempted to get a tattoo myself.

Back in juvie, a lot of guys got impulsive ink done, lyrics from songs they thought were deep at the time but later just sounded corny.

I knew myself well enough to guess I’d regret it.

I always figured tattoos looked better on ripped alphas anyway.

In the end, I decided against it after making a long list of pros and cons.

Storm finally handed me the card. He still had that slightly awkward look on his face, probably worried that Salt’s comment might scare me off and make me want to leave the event.

But I wasn’t even slightly rattled. I’d dealt with people like that before, and they never scared me.

The ones who truly terrified me were the Dinos of the world, the ones who, once they hooked into you, never let go. Not guys like Salt, who barked just to kill their own stress, boredom, or… sense of shame.

And I was pretty sure Salt was feeling it hard. Just like me, he’d probably spent all day yesterday sitting in a booth in the beta section and getting nowhere.

No one wanted to give me a shot because I was a former sex worker.

No one wanted to give him one because he had a record.

In a way, we really were in the same boat.

Storm leaned in slightly and spoke low enough that the betas’ ears couldn’t catch it, only AOs heard sounds that quiet.

"Don’t worry. Keep your hopes up. Yesterday, two of my guys got matched. One of them was Mr. Sanderson, you met him in the morning. The one… in sweatpants."

"Did a beta buy his contract? I think I saw him from a distance."

Storm grimaced faintly. "He wasn’t a beta," he murmured, but didn’t add anything else.

Something crossed my mind.

"So what about that pretty one with the long black hair? I noticed a lot of people hanging around his booth earlier today." I had no idea why I asked, but something about it made me curious.

"Him too! As you can see, there’s hope even for the so-called difficult cases."

He tried to smile and said it in a tone that almost felt encouraging, but I answered with a cold smirk. His success rate was still only fifty percent. Salt and I were waiting for our dream husbands.

"We’ll see if your lucky streak holds, Mr. Nolan. At five today, I’ll be back in this office to collect my twenty-five grand."

Salt let out a dry little laugh, watching me like he was trying to pierce me with those weird two-colored eyes of his.

"Damn, you paid that much for this shitty little experience?" he scoffed. "I’m here for free, courtesy of the lovely Second Chance Program."

"Wow, crime really does pay," I muttered with a sour look, giving him a slow, deliberate once-over.

The cop punched Salt again, hard enough to send a curtain of blue hair falling over his face, but all he did was hiss back with contempt.

There was nothing left for me in that room, so without a word, I shoved the card into my pocket and headed out, walking back toward my booth.

Dylan was standing nearby and greeted me with a polite nod. I forced a neutral expression while passing him, but the second I stepped into my booth, that cold mask dropped back into place.

As soon as I sat down, a couple of people glanced my way.

And just like that, the whole circus started all over again.

One by one, more alphas came to read my info board, then walked off without a word.

Dylan looked at me for a second like he was trying to figure something out.

"If you don’t mind me asking… why’d you go through this agency in the first place?"

I blinked at him, caught off guard.

He cleared his throat. "Most people prefer to just…

meet someone organically. You know, get to know each other, talk, like each other first, then decide if they want something serious.

But here…" He vaguely gestured with his hands.

"People just read this dry little profile, and without even talking to you, they build up some ideas in their heads. "

Why was he telling me something so obvious?

"I’ve got my reasons," I said flatly.

Dylan swallowed. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just… I’ve seen how this works. The kind of alphas that come here. Most of them are looking for long-term contracts. Only about ten percent go for anything under five years."

What the hell was he trying to say? Was this some kind of backhanded comment?

"Most alphas want a husband and a future dad for their kids. Not many come here just looking for…" He cut himself off, probably finally realizing he’d said too much.

I stared at him, narrowing my eyes, giving him the iciest glare I could manage. Sure, maybe he didn’t mean anything by it. Maybe he was just trying to be helpful in his own awkward way. But it took real effort not to hit back with something sharp.

"Just say it," I gritted. "They don’t want an omega they think is only good for fun."

Dylan let out a breath. "I’m sorry! That came out all wrong. I didn’t mean it like that."

"It came out wrong because I’m here for exactly the same thing! I want someone long-term. I want kids, a family. I didn’t sign up for this just so someone could buy a short contract and use me for a quick fuck. That’s why the prices are so high for the short-term options."

Dylan blinked rapidly, clearly flustered. "Sorry, I really didn’t mean to offend you. I feel bad about this situation."

"I don’t need anyone’s pity!" I snapped. But then I bit my tongue. Why was I taking it out on this poor guy? His delivery sucked, but he meant well.

"Sorry," he whispered. "I honestly hope you find someone good. You’re the most beautiful omega here. It’s just so unfair."

I forced myself to stay calm, shut my eyes for a second, and then spoke in a steady voice.

"I’m here for serious reasons. I’ve seen what happens to my friends who did sex work. Most of them ended up in short, so- called ‘organic’ relationships that fell apart fast. A lot of them were left alone with kids. I want a stable family, a marriage based on clear terms, obligations, and rules."

Dylan blinked slowly. "So if you’re mostly focused on getting someone to buy your long-term contract, maybe you could lower the prices a little?

Even your long ones are pretty expensive.

Some are higher than the ones for omegas whose contracts were never sold before. I mean, yeah, you’re hotter, but—"

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. You don’t have to spell it out for me. I’m not exactly a deluxe package."

Dylan stood up, nervously biting his lower lip. He looked embarrassed, and I knew I’d been prickly as hell, but after a day like this, I didn’t have much patience left in me.

Still, I made one last effort. "I appreciate the advice. Really. And I know your observations probably make a lot of sense. I’ll think about it," I added stiffly.

Dylan smiled. "I swear I meant well. It just came out weird."

He gave a little bow and quickly left the booth. Good.

I sat there for the next half hour, that familiar buzzing in my chest again. Alphas passed by, glanced at my board, and kept walking.

Of course. Probably nothing was going to happen until the day ended. And I wasn’t that desperate to lower my prices…

Or was I?

Shit.

Dylan had planted the seed of doubt in my head. Maybe I had picked the wrong strategy after all. I knew my prices were high. Even the one-year contract started at three million and climbed quickly from there.

Sure, everyone warned against pricing too low, even Storm, you didn't want to attract some broke alpha and end up penniless in a few years, but I only had two hours left. This was the last day of the fair.

And I wasn’t like Mr. Sanderson. He wanted his money back, but I genuinely wanted a husband.

So I reached for the tablet Storm had left nearby in case a client wanted to go over the contract details. It had everything, the full document, every clause, and bonus info.

I opened up my pricing chart again. My Eternal contract was the most expensive one. I’d set it at twenty million.

The tablet also let you filter through other omegas’ pricing. Their booths were all linked on an interactive map, only accessible from inside the expo center. I scrolled through the list. Shit.

Most Eternal contracts hovered around one million. Had I completely lost my mind?

Dylan was right!

My contracts were some of the highest in this section, and I bit my lip hard.

My hand twitched. What if I really went for it?

I tapped "Edit Offer" and, with shaky fingers, typed in:

2 million.

But even that didn’t feel right… I deleted another zero.

Now the Eternal contract showed $200,000, with a monthly allowance of $1,000.

Basically free. Insane.

Breach of contract penalty I left at 20 million, for both sides.

Yeah. Still a big risk. Massive.

Or more like… an investment?

I glanced at the clock. 4:09 pm. I shut my eyes for a second, then tapped "Save."

A little refresh icon spun for a few seconds, then the new price updated on my booth’s screen.

A shiver ran through me as I took a deep breath.

Maybe this was my last shot?

◆◆◆

Changing the price seemed to work. A few guys who looked like creeps actually stopped by my booth, clearly hesitating. Interestingly, a few more bought my Allure-infused cards.

But of course, they all were checking out my sexual conditions. Under the section for preferences, I had written: Vanilla only . That probably scared them off.