Mated to the Alpha Who Never Forgot Me

I stood outside the restaurant after finishing work, never imagining that the blind date my friend had arranged would be at a place like this.

I didn't even have the courage to push open that heavy glass door. My credit card definitely couldn't handle a meal at this kind of restaurant.

But my friend had reminded me over and over again that I must show up on time.

If I kept failing at blind dates, Dad would surely start pushing the annoying neighbor's son again like a salesman.

Thinking of his unbearable gaze, like a slug, the restaurant in front of me suddenly didn't seem so scary anymore.

Before I could gather my courage, the waiter had already pulled open the door for me with a smile, quietly asking if I had a reservation, and bowing slightly to guide me inside.

The moment I stepped into the restaurant, I was swallowed by an almost solemn atmosphere.

There were no gaudy crystal chandeliers here, nor any glaring gold and silver decorations. The high-ceilinged space was excessively quiet, everyone speaking in extremely low volumes, with only the faint sounds of cutlery clinking and wine glasses touching lightly in my ears.

"Miss, may I have the name on your reservation?" The waiter, dressed in an impeccably pressed dark formal suit, asked again when I didn't answer.

"Uh, my friend should have made a reservation. His name is Dennis."

The waiter bowed and led the way, bringing me to an empty table by the window. My blind date hadn't arrived yet. Warm, soft light spilled down from hidden ceiling fixtures, falling on the deep walnut wood walls and velvet chairs with a gentle luster. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, Manhattan's sprawling lights stretched into the distance, with Central Park sinking into a quiet night.

Opening the menu, my heart pounded. Page after page of refined French with minimal English translation—even the cheapest set menu was five hundred dollars. Not including drinks, tax, and tip.

Five hundred dollars. That was half a month's rent for me, the monthly payment I had to grit my teeth to pay on my medical debt. A casual meal here would be enough to cover an entire month of my frugal living expenses in Brooklyn!

I handed the menu back to the waiter, trying to make my voice sound relaxed and natural: "I'll wait for my friend to arrive and we'll order together."

The waiter left. As if—even when my blind date arrived, I wouldn't order. This was just too expensive.

I gazed out at the city nightscape below, lost in thought, when a brown-haired man in a suit walked straight over, following behind the waiter. He was well-dressed, his leather shoes polished bright enough to serve as a mirror.

He sat down across from me, checked a photo on his phone, and looked me up and down.

He smiled, rubbing his chin and nodding repeatedly, his examining gaze like someone picking out steak at a supermarket. How arrogant.

He called over the waiter and casually ordered several dishes without asking me a single word, clearly only ordering for himself.

He put down the menu with a leisurely yet condescending posture: "You know what? You look even better than your photo." He leaned back in his chair, swirling his wine glass. "I honestly didn't have high expectations—people you meet online are usually pretty disappointing—but you..." His gaze swept up and down, "You clean up nicely."

"Thanks." I smiled briefly, the corners of my mouth rising and falling immediately. Just as I was about to ask what he did for work, he leaned forward, blocking my question.

"I did a little homework." He said it like he was sharing a secret. "Your friend mentioned you've been having some... financial troubles lately. Student loans, medical bills—" He waved his hand dismissively. "I get it. The economy's terrible right now. A lot of people are struggling."

He spread his hands in a gesture of charity: "But here's the thing—I'm not looking for someone who's financially stable. I mean, that's obviously a plus. But what I need is someone who understands what a real partnership means."

These words held no sincerity, only condescension.

He leaned back in his chair and pointed at my face from a distance. "You should be able to tell I'm a successful man. I've dated a lot of girlfriends, many of them much prettier than you, but they weren't obedient enough."

"I need you to be obedient, okay baby?" Without waiting for me to speak, he started listing his conditions.

"My parents are very important to me—you know, family values. They live in Westchester, great community. I think we should live close to them." He paused, observing my reaction. "They're getting old and need help around the house. You seem like you'd be good at that."

He took a sip of wine. "And kids—this is non-negotiable. I want four, maybe five. My mom's already picking out names." He smiled as if this were charming. "She's pretty traditional."

"Also, whatever money you earned before and gave to your dad and brother is one thing, but after marriage, you'll need to put your money into a joint account that I'll manage."

He leaned forward slightly: "Let me be clear. I'm not just looking for a lover, I'm looking for a partner who catches my eye and knows how to be obedient. My willingness to accept you with all your debt is already a huge compromise."

After hearing all this, I wondered if I was dreaming—otherwise how could I encounter such a creature?

This was more absurd than Mars colliding with Earth.

The waiter brought aperitifs and appetizers. He picked up his champagne and took a sip, his tone becoming increasingly strange: "Think it over carefully. If you miss out on me, you might not get another opportunity like this."

I carefully set down my untouched water glass—because if I kept holding it, I might throw it. His suit looked expensive, and I couldn't afford to replace it.

I shrugged and forced a smile: "Sorry, I don't think we're very compatible."

He was even more disgusting than my slug-like neighbor. Did I really have to end up with that annoying neighbor?

No, no, no. I could definitely ask my friends to introduce me to some new, reliable blind date prospects.

After saying this, I grabbed my bag to leave, but unexpectedly he also stood up and grabbed my hand.

"Hey, sit down first." He thought he'd made a very humorous joke. "Even if your circumstances are poor, there's no need to feel inferior."

I stared at him coldly. He frowned and put on a businesslike expression: "Since you don't agree, I'm certainly not paying your bill. This meal plus tip and drinks comes to six hundred and thirty dollars. You just need to pay three hundred and fifteen."

He was threatening me! Three hundred and fifteen dollars, for what? I didn't order anything or eat a single bite.

I whipped my head around, ready to argue with him properly and then evenly spread the appetizers across his smug face.

A set of footsteps that weren't deliberately softened came from ahead. I instinctively stepped back two paces to make way, but the person stopped directly in front of me.

"Excuse me, miss, sorry to interrupt." The voice came from above my head—low, cautious, as if trying not to startle a frightened animal. "But I couldn't help overhearing, and I have a proposal."

That voice was as deep and rich as a cello. I looked up—and then instinctively took a step back.

I didn't know why. He was just standing there, no threat, no movement, but my body reacted before my brain, like that primitive vigilance when being watched by a large predator.

The man standing there looked like he'd walked out of a cologne advertisement—tall, dark-haired, with impossibly green eyes. A mature, handsome, aggressively featured face was looking down at me with lowered eyes.

"My name is Reginald Beaumont, and I believe I would be a more suitable partner for you than he is."