My Father Sold Me to a bunch of Crazy Alphas
Chapter 59: Eye contact food ( Killian’s POV )

Chapter 59: Eye contact food ( Killian’s POV )

The blunt wealth of the upper class was shamelessly displayed on.

Clothes absurdly expensive screaming the name of overpriced designers,

Shoes to match the dystopian outfits like we just entered the Capitol of the Hunger Games,

A buffet that could assure that half of the city’s poor population could be fed with King crabs and fountains upon fountains of chocolate truffles.

But can you really critique the nonsense of such a shameless exhibit of wealth when you are part of the participants?

Nonetheless, this silly commentary about the shallowness of the modern aristocracy had no place in my mind when I entered the Prime Minister’s mansion.

I had only one thought- win the auction.

My aunt was pulled aside by a couple of walking botox bags wearing Prada. She smiled - the best the fillers would allow it- and followed them to a retreat corner of the room where other wives and moms of the powerful men were waiting.

After all, among all the mean, omegaphobic, entitled scums, my aunt was the proclaimed leader for decades.

I made my way to a waiter and grabbed a glass of champagne in hopes of easing my pulsing headache.

The young boy, maybe barely graduated from high school, smiled anxiously. I sighed and grabbed the key room from inside his pocket.

His rehearsed smile dropped, leaving a silent plea to conquer his face.

"Go to the room and stay there all night. If someone’s asking, say I told you to wait for me. Don’t worry, I won’t come! Are you alone or do you have a brother or a friend here?"

"My-my little brother, sir, he’s-"

I grabbed his face and placed my thumb on his dry lips as a curious looker passed by. I leaned in and whispered in his ear so the echo of my voice won’t reach any other guest:

"Grab him too. Just you two. I can’t get more into the room without raising suspicion. My name is Killian Akna. Killian Akna, got that?"

The boy nodded slightly. I could hear his heartbeat pulsing into his lips, on my thumb.

"Good. Wait there. Don’t move, don’t make noise. Lock the room behind you. These b-st-rds have the habit of entering random rooms and joining in when the alcohol hits their already fried brain."

I felt his lips curving into a shy smile. I pulled back and patted his head softly.

"Thank you, sir!"

"Don’t worry about it. Now go! Before another of these freaks notices you or your brother and wants to share."

The boy took off, alert and sloppy, leaving me with the tray of champagne. I smiled at the innocence and carelessness of him, before an annoying voice interrupted me-

"Killian, you’re a waiter tonight?"

Before me, the heir of the the biggest bank of our country was shifting his weight from one another in a restless motion.

Despite his Hermes tuxedo, he looked rough with his pupils enlarged and his hands shaking. He was already on something.

"Reserved two waiters for a bit of fun. He left me with the tray. Cute, ain’t it?"

"Didn’t think you would get an omega since everyone knows how obsessed you’re with the Prime Minister’s brat. Makes me think you struck some gold between the waiters."

His way too vivid chuckled turned a bit of heads, making the discussion more of a public display than a private conversation. So on brand for him.

"I am curious. Share them with me, huh? Don’t be greedy now, Akna!"

"First come, first served."

"Oh, c’mon! They are all for us to enjoy! Don’t monopolize! Be a good sport!"

"I know how they end up after you, Caleb. I don’t want a punctured, drooling, barely conscious omega. Go find someone else to play the vaccine game with!"

"Prude."

He pouted and got away, leaving the crowd behind sneaking soft giggles like they just watched a comedic skit, not a negotiation.

This night is gonna be long for sure.

I sat down at the buffet, looking at the options:

I stared down at the crabs, they stare back at me.

I stare at the octopus, it stares back at me.

I stare at the stuffed duck, it stares back at me.

And so I lost any sense of appetite. Is there any food that isn’t into eye contact here?

Guess just fruits for tonight’s dinner. It’s cutting season at the gym anyway.

"Not many options to choose from, right?"

"Are you vegan?"

"Nah, I just don’t like food looking back at me so seductively from my plate. I would totally gobble down a big McDonald’s now!"

I didn’t recognize this guy.

He didn’t look extra flashy- just a black and white formal attire and a few cards of the waiters in his pocket.

I must have raised my brow at it, because he started to laugh. The rich type of laugh.

"I have collected like five so far."

"Thought the limit was three."

"What are they gonna do? Sue me?"

He continued to giggle at his own saying like it was pure stand-up comedy.

I start smiling too as he gave me his business card-

This man was the founder of the biggest law firm in the country.

"So? Is your stamina that good?" I asked.

"Nah. I just don’t wanna see grabby grandpas lurking around barely graduates, you know? Ruins my appetite."

"Thought the eye contact ruined it."

"Well, that too."

He said, picking up a crawfish big enough to be considered a lobster. He dangled it into the air and then scrunched his brows while maintaining a mutual gaze between them too.

I chuckled. This guy was funny.

And nice. What was he doing here then?

"I am Killian Akna. Akna Pharmaceuticals. The weirdo on Instagram who is trending as the stalker of Luther Wilkers- the guy auctioned today."

"Wow! Such an introduction. Are you warning me you already marked your territory, Killian? Such an alpha, grrr!"

He finally let the crawfish on a plate and gulped a champagne glass in a breath.

"Gotta make some courage talking to you, you know?"

I smiled. It was hard to not like this guy, but he has yet to present himself properly or tell me the reason he is in such a dreadful place.

"Are you gonna introduce yourself too?"

"I have given you my business card, haven’t I?"

He sounded genuinely confused by my question. So it made me think-

He is either an idiot or he knows how to play people good.

And something more than his profession made me think it was the latter.

"The business card doesn’t say why you’re here though."

One push. To make him talk while the atmosphere is still friendly.

"Are you gonna release pheromones to pressure me or are you just gonna keep playing detective, Kill?"

The microaggression was delivered with a natural smile- it made me feel like we were friends teasing each other rather than competitors for the same prize.

And that was dangerous.

He sighed dramatically. Even brought his hand to his forehead in a theatrical act of defeat.

I hated that he made me laugh.

"Oh no, I am attacked with such strong pheromones. How will I ever survive?"

The melodramatic act brought quite a crowd as the public. The atmosphere was way too relaxed for what it should have been.

The mystery guy seemed to control the gathering with his strategic buffoonery.

Even I was a bit charmed, I must admit.

"Tom, ain’t no pheromones here!" a voice yelled from the back amused.

The lawyer dropped his jaw on the floor with googly eyes threatening to leave his eye sockets.

He switched emotions in a blink then- from surprised to truthfully hurt.

He even wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.

He sat down, holding his head in his palm in such a heartbroken way, you would think he just got dumped by his first love. Tom managed then to google down another drink without even swallowing, just pouring it down his throat. The glass banged then on the wooden table like we were watching an alchooling drowning his sorrows.

"Well, how is a poor beta like me supposed to know?"

The crowd ignited into laughter. I did not.

Too many questions unanswered:

If this guy is a beta, how is he so accepted by the aristocracy composed of only alphas?

If he is a beta, how did he manage to even succeed into having a firm?

The upper class accepted just alphas. Not omegas as more than heir providers or marriage leverage between families. And clearly not betas.

Never betas.

So how? How did he manage not only to have such professional success, but to win all these rigid, old-fashioned scums?

I was right. This guy was screaming trouble...

After delivering such a line to cause the aristocracy to fall in the palm of his hands, he gently swiped a string of his milk chocolate hair behind his ear and winked at me.

I squashed a peach in my hand before realising how tense I was. I wiped the mess off with a napkin and took a breath. My actions caused him a quick mischievous smile to appear.

Those questions are irrelevant to me. This guy’s past and strategy have nothing to do with me.

Yet, the most important question still lingers unanswered and dangerous at the top of my mind:

Why would a beta like Tom be interested in Luther, my omega?