Page 11 of Excess

“This is ridiculous, Leo,” I sighed. “You’re no bloody help to anyone like this.”

All I got in response was a grunting snore.

This wasn’t how it was meant to be. When we’d finished our decade in the army, Leo and I had sworn we were going to make something of ourselves. Run our own business. Start families of our own. Take care of our parents in their old age. We’d managed half of everything, I supposed. It didn’t feel particularly rewarding.

I slammed the door behind me, hoping it would wake him up again, before heading downstairs to shove my boots on and head out. Fortunately, Dad was already walking Freya to school, so neither of them were around to witness my bad mood or Leo’s bullshit.

Not that they hadn’t seen it before, but they deserved better. Dad was meant to be having a relaxing retirement. Freya was meant to be enjoying her childhood. They didn’t need this shit.

By the time I’d ripped out the old ceiling at the Dara house, I was in a foul mood, but at least I’d been mostly left to my own devices by both the client and her retinue of staff. This staircase I was working over really only led to one room, and even that was accessible by going up the main stairs and through the corridors that formed a rectangle around the central courtyard. I imagined that the main reason for reopening it was to bring in natural light from the surrounding windows, rather than for any practical purpose as a pathway.

I cleaned up as best I could—loading the van up with rubbish to dispose of—and washed some of the dust off myself in the small, sleek bathroom down the hall. The one section of lath-and-plaster decorative arches was definitely going to stand out in a house of clean lines and LED pendant lights. But I was no interior decorator. I just did what I was paid to do.

By the time I emerged, it was to find a perfectly put-together omega standing on the dust-covered plastic sheet that protected the floor, peering up at the ceiling through the scaffolds.

“That already looks so much better.”

I grunted in agreement, because it did look better. The original arched laths were in pretty good condition, though some would need replacing. If nothing else, the small space felt immediately grander and more interesting with the low false ceiling removed.

The contrast of Inika’s expensive outfit and the dusty, plain surroundings and paint-splattered scaffolding was a jarring one. It was her house, but she didn’t belong here. Not amongst all this filth.

“Is this going to be a regular occurrence?”

Inika tipped her chin up stubbornly, and I barely swallowed down an alpha growl of disapproval. Disapproval, and a little something more that I didn’t want to acknowledge.

I should have jerked off this morning. Being in the presence of an unmated omega—a beautiful, confident, elegant omega, no less—was playing havoc with my libido. When was the last time I’d got laid? I couldn’t even remember. I was too fucking tired to put in enough effort to make that happen.

“You mean, am I regularly going to be looking at the progress in my own house?” she asked mildly, her shiny black heels already covered in a thin sheen of dust.

“It was just a question.”

“It was a ludicrous question.” She planted her hands on her hips, surveying the space with a critical eye as if she had any idea what she was looking for.

Fuck. There was no reason for this to feel like foreplay, and yet…

I exhaled heavily. Clearly unmated alphas and omegas shouldn’t be alone together. It was a recipe for disaster.

“You’re getting dirt all over your fancy outfit.”

Inika glanced down in surprise. It probably wasn’t a fancy outfit to her, but the navy trousers and silky blouse looked posh to me.

“My meeting is over. I don’t have to look nice anymore.” She flicked her hand dismissively, probably because a member of staff would see that the outfit was dry cleaned and she’d never have to think about it again. “Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”

“No. I’m always this charming.”

Inika let out a small laugh, and even that sounded expensive. “Could you walk me through what the next steps are in here?”

She truly was my least favourite kind of client.

“Repair what needs repairing. Plaster. Fancier plaster.” If she wanted a contractor who’d hold her hand through the entire process, she should have hired someone else.

“Aren’t you helpful?” Inika replied, rolling her eyes. The bratty gesture pushed me over the edge of professionalism and well and truly into alpha mode.

“Listen, princess, I’m busy. I’ve budgeted a set amount of hours to get this job done, and those hours don’t include explaining what I’m doing to the client every step of the way.”

Inika sucked in a breath, her eyes widening slightly. I hazarded that no one had ever spoken to her so plainly in her life, and she was probably going to crawl into her million-pound nest and cry about it for the rest of the afternoon.

How nice to be rich and unemployed enough for a workday breakdown in bed.

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