Page 17 of Omega's Formula

“Right, right. Sorry.” He shoots me one last curious look before hurrying out, closing the door behind him.

I stare after him, something uncomfortable churning in my gut. A friend who had a prime match. Who was freaked out at first. Who ended up happy.

That’s not going to be me. I know that. This isn’t some fairy tale where the reluctant omega falls for his arranged alpha and they live happily ever after. Not if that arranged alpha is Erik Nilsson.

But for a moment—just a moment—I let myself wonder what it would be like if things were different. If Erik weren’t the man who stole my research. If we’d met some other way, in some other life. If the chemistry between us could mean something. Actually, it wouldn’t matter. Even if none of it had happened, Erik would still be the same corporate psychopath that he is now. The only difference is that I wouldn’t know it until it was too late.

The printer stops, and Sara rises to collect the documents. She feeds them through a binding machine, creating a neat packet that she slides across the desk to me.

“Take your time reading through it. I can answer any questions you have.”

I flip through the pages, scanning the legalese. Most of it is standard marriage contract stuff—division of assets (none, since I’m signing away any claim), expectations of conduct (vagueenough to be meaningless), grounds for dissolution (mutual agreement or Bureau intervention).

I keep flipping through the document, forcing myself to focus. Sara’s friendliness aside, I don’t trust these bastards an inch. I’m going to read these three times over before I sign.

The section on medical coverage for Ellie seems straightforward—everything she needs, no questions asked, for as long as she needs it. That’s the important part. That’s why I’m here.

Then I reach the section on offspring, and my blood runs cold.

“Custody,” I say flatly. “Of any children.”

“Standard clause for alpha-omega marriages,” Sara says, her voice carefully neutral. “In the event of any offspring resulting from the union, primary custody would default to Mr. Nilsson.”

“That’s—” I bite back the word that wants to come out. Barbaric. “I have no intention of having children with him.”

“Then the clause is irrelevant.” She tilts her head, studying me. “Is there a problem?”

There’s no problem. There’s not going to be any children because there’s not going to be any sex.

Even if the chemistry between us is strong enough to make my head spin, even if some primal part of me wants to roll over and present for him at even a hint of his scent, I’m on contraceptives. I have been for years. And I’m not stupid enough to let chemistry override my brain.

But still.

The idea of signing away rights to my children, even non-existent ones, feels like signing away a piece of myself.

It doesn’t matter. They’re non-existent. Ellie is real.

I sign and initial twice: two copies, one for me and one for Nilsson.

“Excellent.” Sara takes the documents back, adding her own signatures. “I’ll update the Bureau on the marriage plans today. The ceremony is scheduled for Saturday at two. Mr. Nilsson’s driver will pick you up at one.”

“His driver.”

“Unless you’d prefer to make your own way?”

I don’t have a car but she probably already knows that.

“The driver’s fine.”

“Good.” She stands, extending her hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. West. I’m sure this arrangement will work out to everyone’s satisfaction.”

I shake her hand. “Can I ask you something?” I say before I can stop myself.

“Of course.”

“Why do you work for him? Nilsson, I mean. You don’t seem like the type to just follow orders blindly and he’s clearly a ruthless, unethical asshole.”

She cocks her head, like she’s genuinely considering the question.