Chapter 79: Traditional Expectations Can Go to Hell

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"No." He said.

I stared at Nikolai, and he stared right back at me with that cool, professional demeanor that made me feel like throwing something at him.

It was the kind of calm that almost dared me to react with violence.

Ironically, I was at a point where hurling an object felt like a perfectly reasonable way to handle my frustrations.

"I haven’t even laid out my reasons," I protested, crossing my arms tighter as if that would somehow strengthen my case.

"You already did."

"I said one sentence."

"That was enough."

I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to find any hint of weakness in that polished facade. "You’re really annoying."

Arms crossed, I scrutinized him closely, like I was tackling a particularly stubborn puzzle. He stood there in his usual black suit, way too composed for someone facing what I thought was a pretty reasonable request.

His dark hair was perfectly styled, his expression unreadable, and he was standing up straight like the universe had sent him a memo that morning, reminding him to keep that posture no matter what.

I really hated how calm he always was.

It was like trying to argue with a wall.

A very attractive wall, but still a wall.

"Are you seriously refusing me?" I pressed, refusing to let the silence linger too long.

"Yes."

"Without even considering it?"

"I have."

"When?"

"While you were talking."

I scoffed, the sound sharp in the stillness of the courtyard. Rolling my eyes, I worried for a fleeting second they might get stuck that way. "You’re so damn impossible."

"And you’re the Don’s Beloved Omega."

Instantly, I frowned...those words always hit me like a punch. "There you go again."

"What’s wrong with that?" Nikolai looked genuinely puzzled, and somehow that made things even worse. "You’re his Omega."

"You say it like it explains everything."

"It clarifies why I need his permission before I teach you."

I shot him a look, the morning light glinting off his suit and making him seem even more like someone who’d never received a ’no’ in a professional setting. "Why?"

His tone turned serious, that professional mask shifting into a more resolute expression.

"Because you’re under his protection."

"I didn’t ask for a bodyguard."

For a brief moment, his mouth twitched, but he maintained his straight face, which only motivated me to push harder. "I can’t train you without his blessing."

I shook my head, sending some hair tousling across my face.

"Why do I need my husband’s permission to learn how to protect myself?"

"Because you’re not just anyone."

"That sounds suspiciously like you’re saying I can’t make my own choices."

"That’s not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

Nikolai hesitated, the silence stretching out just enough for me to lean in, curious.

"Fighting is generally a role for Alphas and Betas." He said.

I stared at him, waiting for more nonsense to surface. "And?"

"Omegas have different responsibilities."

I could feel the irritation bubbling up, like knowing a bad movie was about to drop its most clichéd plot twist. "What kind of responsibilities?"

"Family."

I kept waiting, arms crossed, tapping my foot against the stone.

"Children."

I maintained my blank expression.

"And keeping stability in the household."

I glanced at him.

Then I looked around the courtyard, as if I might spot someone who could confirm I had indeed heard him correctly, someone who’d step in as a witness to say, "No, you did not just say that."

When no one appeared, I turned back, disbelief written all over my face.

"So I’m supposed to stay home and make sure everyone gets fed? What is this shit? Did I somehow freaking transmigrate to the 1600s or something?!"

"That’s not exactly what I said."

"Make sure the kids are content?"

"I didn’t say that either."

"Keep the house tidy? Bake cookies? Arrange flowers? Just sit there until my Alpha returns home then I spread my hole for him?"

Nikolai paled, especially at the last part of my words. "Uh...sir."

"What?"

He sighed, carrying the weight of someone who had dealt with countless less chaotic conversations in his career.

"I’m just explaining the traditional expectations of–"

"And I’m telling you those expectations can take a long walk off a fucking short bridge."

Nikolai’s eyebrows shot up.

I could see he was trying hard not to show any reaction, the corners of his mouth almost giving in momentarily before his discipline kicked back in.

Nikolai stared at me for a few seconds before choosing to engage, probably thinking it was the lesser evil.

"Even if I did train you, I doubt it would be effective." He began.

My annoyance sharpened, pricking at every word he said. "Why?"

"Omegas aren’t typically trained for physical fights. And when it actually comes to hurting someone, most Omegas hesitate."

I looked at him, the courtyard suddenly feeling like it was closing in.

He continued, completely unaware he was inching toward dangerous territory with the confidence of someone who’s never been hit by a shoe.

"They tend to be more emotional. More compassionate. Softer by nature."

My eyebrows crept up, this idiot had to be joking...for his sake. "Softer?"

"Yes and too soft-hearted to do any damage."

"You think I won’t be able to fight because I’m an Omega."

"I think your instincts might work against you." He said with a nod.

"My instincts?"

"Yes."

I glanced down at my hands, flexing my fingers as if testing whether they belonged to someone who had recently done something unexpected.

Then I looked back at him.

Yesterday, my father had struck me.

I had struck him back.

Never thought I could do that.

For years, Richard Sinclair was the person who could freeze me in place with just his voice. Yesterday, something in me had finally snapped. I hadn’t planned it.

I hadn’t considered the consequences. I just reacted, like someone does when the last thread of patience wears thin.

Maybe Nikolai was right about me being emotional.

Maybe I was.

But being emotional didn’t mean I was completely helpless.

And being an Omega didn’t mean I wanted to spend the rest of my life waiting for someone else to protect me from danger.

"You’re wrong," I said, my voice steady.

Nikolai’s expression remained calm. "Perhaps."

"No, not perhaps. You are."

"I hope I’m wrong."

"Then teach me."

"I can’t."

I stared at him, and he stared back, the morning light creating gentle shadows across the stone between us.

"You know," I said slowly, dragging out the words with a teasing tone, "for someone who works for a mob boss, you’re unexpectedly shit at taking risks."

"Because I understand consequences."

"That’s just boring."

"That may be true."

I blinked, taken aback, that wasn’t the reply I expected.

"You admit it?"

"I’ve never claimed otherwise." Then he added, "But I still won’t train you."

My smile vanished as fast as it appeared. "You’re really starting to irritate me."

"My apologies, sir." Then he turned away smoothly, as if the conversation had reached its end and he was simply leaving the rest behind.

I watched him take a few steps, the black of his suit contrasting sharply against the pale stone and green hedges.

Something hot and unreasonable flared up in my chest, that familiar sting of being dismissed one too many times.

I had been dismissed my whole life.

By my father, by Lydia, by Blair and by people who decided my worth before I had a chance to speak.

And now this man stood in front of me, telling me I was too soft to defend myself because I was an Omega.

Maybe he didn’t intend it as cruelty.

Maybe he genuinely believed it.

But I was tired of people deciding what I could and couldn’t do.

"Nikolai." He halted but didn’t turn, keeping his shoulders perfectly professional. "Get your ass back here."

"No."

I looked down at my feet, then at him, then back at my feet.

One of my shoes suddenly seemed like an ideal projectile, the kind of makeshift weapon that appeared only when someone had worn out every polite option.

My brain had a brief chance to intervene.

It failed gloriously.

I slipped off my shoe and hurled it.

The shoe soared through the air, hitting the back of Nikolai’s head with a satisfying thwack that echoed softly off the stone walls.

He froze and for a beat, we were both still, the courtyard holding its breath with us.

Then Nikolai slowly turned around.

His expression was so calm it was unnerving, the kind of stillness that suggested he was weighing several possible reactions and discarding most of them just on principle.

I stood there, one foot bare on the stone, the other still clad in my remaining shoe, trying to look as innocent as possible while the cool morning air wrapped around my exposed toes.

Nikolai glanced at the shoe on the ground.

Then back at me. "Did you just throw your shoe at me?"

I blinked, trying to buy myself a half-second. "No."

One eyebrow shot up, balancing between politeness and skepticism.

I sighed, the fight leaking out of my denial almost immediately. I glanced at the shoe, still lying there like evidence of my mischief, and shrugged. "I was just testing something."

"What?"

"Your theory."

"My theory?"

"That Omegas can’t hurt people...but that shoe looked like it hurt you, didn’t it?"

There was a pause, stretching just long enough to become awkward.