Gray's mouth quirks up in what might be a smile. "When you put it like that, it sounds almost fun."
His Range Rover idles in the parking lot, black and pristine like everything else in Gray Lockwood's perfectly controlled world. He opens the passenger door for me, a gesture so automatic I suspect it was drilled into him from childhood.
"Nervous?" he asks as we pull away from campus.
"Should I be?"
"Probably." He navigates through town with the easy confidence of someone who's made this drive countless times. "My parents aren't known for their warmth."
"Neither are mine." I settle back in the leather seat, watching familiar campus buildings give way to upscale neighborhoods. "What should I know? About your family, I mean."
Gray's hands tighten slightly on the steering wheel. "My father built Lockwood Financial from a regional firm into a national powerhouse. He expects excellence in everything and everyone around him. My mother runs the social circuit—charity boards,country club committees, all the ways wealthy women wield influence."
"And they want you to marry Katherine Kincaid."
"They want me to marry someone who'll enhance the family name and produce appropriate heirs." His tone is carefully neutral. "Katherine fits their criteria."
"But not yours."
"Not even close." He glances at me. "She's everything I can't stand about our world. Entitled, vapid, more interested in her image than anything of substance."
"Harsh."
"Accurate." The road begins to climb into the mountains, winding through increasingly dense forest. "She also has this laugh that sounds like a dying seagull and makes conversation by listing her recent purchases."
Despite everything, I smile. "Tell me how you really feel."
"I just did." His expression softens slightly. "What about your family? What do they expect from their daughter?"
The question makes me pause. Gray doesn't ask things lightly, and something in his tone suggests he genuinely wants to understand rather than just making conversation.
"Perfection," I say finally. "Academic excellence, social grace, eventual marriage to someone who'll elevate our status even further. They have very specific ideas about what their Omega daughter should become."
"And those ideas don't include commanding eight Alphas on a rowing team."
"Not remotely." I stare out the window at the darkening forest. "They think my designation should determine my entire life path. That being an Omega means I should be grateful for whatever Alpha attention I receive and focus on being an appropriate mate."
"Is that why you hide it? Your designation?"
"Part of it." I fidget with my clutch strap. "It's also practical. People treat Omegas differently in competitive sports. They assume we're weak, emotional, unable to handle pressure. The suppressants let me be judged on my abilities rather than my biology."
"And your family supports that decision?"
I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "My family tolerates it as long as it doesn't interfere with their plans. They see the suppressants as a temporary convenience until I find a suitable Alpha to bond with."
"Suitable according to them."
"According to them." The conversation is veering into territory I usually avoid, but something about Gray's calm attention makes the words spill out. "They've actually had someone in mind since I was sixteen. Robert Ashford. His family owns half the shipping industry on the East Coast."
Gray's scent sharpens with something that might be jealousy. "And you're not interested."
"I'd rather bond with a brick wall. At least that would have more personality."
This earns me a genuine laugh, the sound warming something in my chest. "So we're both escaping unwanted romantic entanglements tonight."
"Seems that way."
The road curves sharply, and suddenly we're pulling through massive iron gates marked with an understated "L" in elegant script. The driveway stretches ahead through manicured grounds, perfectly lit by hidden landscape lighting.
