Mircea stopped mid-swing and turned to the little grey-haired man next to him. "I have. How did you hear about it, Mr. Brixton?"

Mr. Brixton laughed and slung his golf club over his shoulder. "I may be an old man, son, but my ears are still sharp."

"You mean you listen in on Mrs. Brixton's conversations in the limo, don't you?"

That prompted another hearty laugh from the older Alpha. "You caught me," he chortled. "You know my daughter. If I see the chance, I'm most certainly going to snag you as my son-in-law."

Caroline Brixton was a sweet, cheery woman, a rare gem amongst the ranks of power-hungry females who were candidates for Mircea's partner. She was also asexual and not remotely interested in marriage. "I'm flattered," Mircea mumbled, lining up his shot again. "Anyway, what made you think I was still taken?"

"You have some new jewelry around your neck."

Mircea snapped upright and tucked his chain away. Clearly, Mr. Brixton was expecting him to pull it out so he could check if there was a ring strung on it. "It's not related to Lyra," Mircea said. "I, uh, thought I'd change up my fashion a little bit."

Mr. Brixton nodded, disappointed. "Good idea," he agreed. "Maybe I'll do it too. I've been thinking of having a new suit made anyway. Speaking of fashion, I've heard you've become friendly with the omega at that flowery little cafe downtown."

Mircea growled internally as he straightened out of his pose for the third time. Was this man deliberately trying to disturb him so he wouldn't win this round? "I didn't realize I was being watched," he responded cautiously.

"Oh, come on," Mr. Brixton drawled. "You're the most eligible bachelor in town and that omega is practically a tourist attraction."

"I don't see how he's fashion."

Mr. Brixton gawked open-mouthed at him for a few seconds, clearly derailed by Mircea's non-conformity to tradition. "You're more forward-thinking than I expected," he finally remarked. It didn't sound like a compliment. Unfortunately for him, he ended up looking straight into Mircea's eyes as he said that, and instantly he was trapped.

That striking blue gaze penetrated every layer of pretense both voluntary and involuntary, planting the disapproval it carried into his very soul. Even though he held the power today, he trembled at the thought of displeasing the man who seemed capable of seeing every secret hidden within him. "Y-you know how it is," he explained with a nervous laugh, retaining enough obstinacy to stand his ground. "That unparalleled beauty, that inimitable scent, all combined with a fiery temper. The most untameable of shrews, a muse that can strike afflatus into a fool - imagine being the one to own him. For us Alphas, he's the most coveted treasure of all."

That doesn't equate him to your eccentric haircut, you fat pig, Mircea snarled, outraged at his objectification of Evinori.

"The man who didn't spare a smile for presidents and kings happily laughs and chats with you," Mr. Brixton continued. "But then again, kings and presidents will one day bow before you, so I'm not surprised."

"I like the menu and the ambience," said Mircea emphatically, even more infuriated at the implication that Evinori was a gold-digger. "My favorite table happens to be in his section. I happened to see his personal integrity before his beauty, and perhaps he sensed it. Maybe that's why he's comfortable around me."

That effectively stunned Mr. Brixton into silence. Mircea finally addressed the ball and swung. The ball disappeared into the hole, and the latter took great pleasure in the latter's horror at his impending demolition in the game. "You should try chatting with him," said Mircea as he fished the ball out. "Really. He's a good man - saved me from being mugged once. He's pretty smart, too."

"Uh...I see."

"But then again, you probably know better." Mircea nudged the flummoxed man into their golf cart and set off towards the final hole. "You clearly hold him in high regard, considering how I've never heard anyone describe him in such glowing terms. Quite a big heart you've got there, inspiring others to think as forwardly as you do."

"I did?"

"Of course! You've certainly got me inspired. The world needs more people like you, Mr. Brixton. It's going to make you a damn popular senator."

"Is that-"

"It is! I've never given omegas any thought since, you know, I don't have anything to do with them. But now that I do, you're right. That guy is well-groomed, professional, independent and just. A treasure, indeed. Thank you for putting the idea in my head, Mr. Brixton. The wisdom of elders is really something."

"Well, shit. I didn't mean to - that's not what I -"

"I mean, he's a full-time server at a cafe." Mircea parked the cart on the green and jumped out, tugging Mr. Brixton with him more roughly than needed. "As much an upstanding, contributing member of society as you and me. Right?"

"Well, you can't tell what goes on behind-"

"-closed doors? Good point." Mircea motioned for Mr. Brixton to go first, responding to the latter's protests by planting the tee and shoving a club into his hands. "It's absolutely silly to assume he's doing something dodgy when he probably just goes to bed after running around all day. Just like you and me, right?"

"Not exact-"

"Right."

It was only when Mircea cleared his throat that Mr. Brixton realized he'd been nodding along with Mircea with his mouth hanging open, club held aloft like the national flag. Body at the tee but mind at sixes and sevens, the old man turned unsteadily to assume stance and take his shot. When his mind finally stopped reeling, he'd holed the ball with a score of three-above-par.

Mircea's lips twitched in derisive amusement at the piteoous despair on his playmate's face. With a shrug, he picked up the conversation as if it had never been dropped. "In fact, there's nothing forward about being civil to such a man, is there? It is thinking otherwise that's backward." He looked Mr. Brixton with ersatz questioning in his eyes. "Right?"

Mr. Brixton was in a complex state of mind because of Mircea's rapid fire. Eyes wide and mind shaken, he could offer little resistance as the younger man not-too-gently guided him towards the tee square and readied himself to play. "But-I don't-I mean-the thing is-I-" He slumped, defeated. "Yeah."

"Excellent!" Mircea cheered. "You know what? I have a great idea. We're almost done here, so allow me to take you to the Antillia. You'll see what I mean about the food and ambience. If we're lucky the omega will be there too. I would love to talk business over some lunch."

Mr. Brixton watched, suddenly very exhausted, as Mircea holed the ball in a single stroke. Dejectedly, he nodded.

"Hole-in-one." Mircea shot him a decidedly evil, taunting smile. "You lose, Mr. Brixton."

*

Evinori was in the middle of arguing with a coworker about covering her shift when a familiar scent hit his nose. He and the other server turned their heads in unison to find the host ushering in Mircea Quartz, dressed in a collared shirt and trousers with a giant golf bag slung over his shoulders. Evinori had assumed Mircea was toned, but by God he hadn't expected the man to be that toned.

"What's with you two?" asked Evinori's coworker.

Evinori's smile dropped as he turned to her. "What do you mean?"

"Mircea Quartz is famous for being 'clean' from omegas, and you're famous for throwing punches at Alphas who even look at you the wrong way. Yet here you two are, grinning at each other like idiots."

"Don't talk about me like I'm an illegal drug, Nora," Evinori snapped with a scowl. "If you want me to cover your shift, pissing me off isn't the right way to make it happen."

Nora shrugged. "I didn't coin the term. Alphas like him did." She jerked her chin in Mircea's direction.

"That doesn't give you the right to use it. I'd suggest you watch that tongue of yours. You know how Allie is itching to kick your ass after you stole her boyfriend? Call Mircea or me an idiot one more time and I'll make sure she pounds you into the pavement."

With that Evinori stomped off to retrieve menus, leaving Nora sputtering in disbelief.

Mircea was waiting for him at his usual table, whistling softly and absently scrolling on his phone. The tune turned into a playful wolf-whistle as the omega approached, and watching eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as Mircea received a laugh instead of a black eye. "Stop being so ostentatious," Evinori ordered. "People are looking."

"Is it strange that I don't care?"

"It shouldn't be, but it is. Now, what can I get you?"

"The fanciest stuff on the menu," replied Mircea. He pulled a face. "It's time I get to work."

"Work? What d'you-"

"Ah, Mr. Brixton! You're finally here. I can't believe there was a line for the valet."

Evinori jumped. A portly little man with a cane and a giant white moustache was standing right behind him, staring at him with the mix of wonder and condescension typical of any Alpha layiing eyes on him for the first time. 

"Mr. Brixton, this is Evinori," Mircea announced. "It's thanks to his encouragement that Lemaile is still standing. Evinori, this is Senator Brixton: industrialist, pro golfer, violinist extraordinaire. And a soon-to-be investor in Lemaile."

"Confident, aren't you?" Mr. Brixton smirked. "I haven't agreed to the deal yet."

"Trust me, you will. There's no reason not to."

"Not anymore, you mean?"

Now it was Mircea's turn to lose his temper. Fortunately for him, Evinori caught the incendiary implication and jumped into action. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Brixton," the omega said loudly. Mircea froze as Evinori's hand closed surreptitiously around his own and squeezed gently. "Please, have a seat. Can I start you off with some iced tea and our signature charcuterie?"

The smile Evinori shot Mr. Brixton was beyond dazzling. The old man stuttered incoherently as the omega pulled back a chair and Mircea manhandled him for the second time that day into sitting in it. The gears in his mind still hadn't engaged when Mircea began his introductory pitch, and by the time they did he was halfway through agreeing with words he hadn't heard and a pleased smile was spreading across the younger Alpha's face.

"Wait a second," he said, his hand freezing just short of Mircea's outstretched one. "What was that last part aga-"

"Your charcuterie and tea, Mr. Brixton."

Petrichor and fresh flowers. The scent stopped even Mircea's words halfway up his throat. Evinori's heady pheromones washed over the table, overwhelming as a tidal wave and as gentle as a mother's hug. "What are you doing?" he whispered, placing his coffee on the table. "Go on!"

Mircea only stared as the omega flounced away. As he turned to enter the kitchen, he turned, showed Mircea a bouquet of flowers and a conspiratorial smile, and winked.

It took a single glance at the cross-eyed Mr. Brixton for Mircea to realize what was going on. Realization dawned on his face as he looked around their table only to have his suspicions confirmed: while he'd been talking to the old man, Evinori had plucked away the heavily perfumed flowers blooming around their table and once the air had cleared, he'd choked it with his own overwhelming scent.

"Didn't know he liked to play dirty," Mircea muttered. "I like it."

"Like...like what?"

Right. He did have an investor to snag. "Like I was saying," Mircea said. "Lemaile's stock prices are trending upward since..."

*

"How has nobody seen how incredible you are yet?"

Evinori jumped a foot into the air. Out of instinct, he swung his fist as he turned, only to have Mircea grab his arm. "Don't sneak up on me like that!" panted the omega. "You're going to get your nose broken one day."

Mircea kissed Evinori's knuckles, watching him and his reflection in the bathroom mirror turn bright red. "So long as you take care of me after, I won't press charges."

Evinori chuckled. "Dumbass." 

"Only for you, baby."

Why must he insist on saying things like that? "What are you doing in here?" Evinori asked, praying that Mircea couldn't hear the wild beating of his heart. "Don't you have a guest to entertain?"

A familiar grin spread across Mircea's face. Evinori's eyes lit up as he smiled back. "You did it!" he whispered delightedly. "You convinced him to invest, didn't you?"

"He didn't commit, but he finally started leaning into it. I'd say we got him to do it: I know what you did back there. And I know it wasn't an easy decision to expose an Alpha to the full strength of your scent, so thank you."

Evinori only smiled in response. Mircea was risking a lot by spending time with him, so it was only fair if he took a small risk of his own. "Only for you, baby," he retorted softly.

"Mr. Brixton said he'd like to discuss things some more once at the beginning of the new fiscal year," Mircea continued. "He invited me to join him and his family on his yacht." He gulped nervously. "It's an attempt to kill two birds with one stone and set me up with his daughter."

"Caroline?" Evinori's shoulders slumped visibly. "Oh. She's a nice lady. Better than your Lyra, frankly."

"Lyra's not mine. And how are you on first-name basis with Caroline?"

Shit. Evinori was so used to hearing his family refer casually to Mericot's rich and powerful that the name had just slipped out. Fortunately for him, he had an out. "She visits the cafe sometimes," he explained. "She's nice. Doesn't look at me like an exotic pet, so I don't mind chatting with her. She insists I call her Caroline."

"Of course," Mircea laughed. "Yeah, she's a really sweet girl."

Evinori's heart sank. It was a known fact that Mircea and Caroline had once dated, and he'd never seen the Alpha smile so fondly while talking about an ex. Mr. Brixton was clearly trying to indicate that he wanted to barter: a life-saving investment into Lemaile in exchange for marrying his daughter. It made good business sense for Mircea to agree. He belonged to a circle in which marriage wasn't exactly a big deal and if he absolutely had to marry, the gentle Caroline was a jackpot of a wife. Judging by the expression on Mircea's face, he didn't seem to be averse to the prospect of marrying her.

"I see," he said, sounding rather choked up. He knew this day would come, but he hadn't expected it to be so soon. He had to look away to hide the tears that suddenly jumped into his eyes. "Good for you."

"Evi-"

"Hey, I have to go before someone notices I've been in here too long."

"Evinori, wait!" Mircea cried as the omega whirled towards the door.

The feel of Mircea's hand closing around his wrist nearly undid him. Quickly, he pulled the pin out of his hair, letting the thick locks fall around his face to hide the tears that overflowed. He glanced at the sparkling object in his hands and chuckled bitterly: it was Mircea's tie pin. How appropriate. "I can't," said he, shortly. Without looking up to meet Mircea's eyes, he pushed the pin into the Alpha's hands. "Good luck with Caroline. Stop by here every now and then if you can."

With that, he ripped his hand away and bolted.