Page 47 of The Alpha's Fake Mate

He pulled out the first chair on my right, close by, and sat.

Immediately, two Alphas wearing tuxedos came out from a door I had not previously seen, carrying trays.

It was more formal than anything I was used to.

I wanted to laugh. I wanted to get up and go back to my room with a sandwich or maybe just a piece of fruit. I was used to communicating with Orion through typed words. Not face to face. Lunch had been hard enough.

An Alpha servant leaned over me and I stiffened. But all he did was place a bowl of creamy soup in front of me.

I saw Orion pick up a pepper grinder and season his. When he was done, he offered it to me.

“Pepper?”

“Do you always eat this formally?” I did not take the pepper.

“My dad’s servants are used to serving dinners this way. And I was brought up here. But breakfast and lunch are more like buffets. I often eat out so I don’t have to endure the pomp and circumstance.” He gave me a long-suffering smile. “When I was a kid I didn’t know any different. But as I got older, it was boring, and now, well, I’ve been eating alone most of the time and it’s tedious. So I go out.”

“Don’t you have friends?”

He looked down at his soup, taking in another spoonful. “Yes. I do. I eat with them several times a week. And you? Will you miss them?”

I picked up my spoon and stirred my soup. “No.”

It was untrue. Harly had been my friend as far back as I could remember. I had been cruel to him since the attack. But I did miss him.

The steam from the soup rose up into my face, warming my eyes.

Orion picked up the basket of rolls. “Would you like one?”

I picked up a roll and put it on the smaller plate next to my wine glass.

“You’re very polite. Why?”

“You’re my guest. I want you to feel at home here.”

“I’m your claim. More than a guest.”

“Yes, but fake claimed.”

Why did that make me bristle? It was not like I wanted it to be real.

“And this will be your home,” Orion continued. “But as for me being polite, it was ingrained in me from an early age.”

“I’ll bet you don’t even use the wordfuckfor the actual act, let alone slang.”

“I—I don’t usually use that word.”

“That’s what happens, I guess, when you’re uber-rich and home-schooled.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re saying I am un-cool?”

“No. You’re an Alpha. You’re the cool half of the world’s population by virtue of being born without internal egg sacks and a baby pouch. It’s automatic. Plus, you’re wealthy. It’s impossible for you to be seen in any way that is not cool. You rule.” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm from threading through those last words.

He sighed.

I finally scooped some soup on my spoon and shoved it into my mouth.

It was heaven. I’d never tasted anything so decadent and good. Cheesy with a hint of bacon and a bit of parsley sprinkled on top.