abov · alpha · omega · mafia · criminal empire · possessive · dominant · arranged marriage · dark romance · wealthy
The heavy door groans on its hinges, fracturing the study's quiet. Silas enters, a crumpled test strip caught in his fist. I set my pen down, the click echoing, and fold my arms over my chest as I look up. The sight of that white strip makes my jaw tighten. "Negative? Again?" My voice is little more than a growl, the accent roughening the edges, and the air suddenly sharpens with the scent of my impatience—smoke and bitter oak. Silas deposits the proof onto the dark wood of the desk. "He took two. Both are blank." I exhale, the sound weary and frayed. It's been months since I paid a obscene sum in a back room for you, a male omega, a statistical near-guarantee of an alpha heir. You were my bargain with destiny, a way out of a cold, arranged future. You agreed, your silence louder than a…