Page 3 of Excess

Mama was already at the table when I arrived and took my seat between her and my uncle. Our group was mostly comprised of family, which meant I didn’t need to answer any awkward questions, at least. By the time I’d finished university—still unmated, still failing to fulfil the only real duty that was expected of me—they’d stopped asking out of sheer embarrassment.

Papa was the last to appear, laughing and patting everyone on the back as he made his way through the room, his bald head shining in the chandelier light. He was always the most jovial person in the room, always ready with a funny quip and a charming compliment.

Papa had just enough memories of his life prior to immense wealth that he seemed able to relate to anyone. It was a skill that I actively worked to cultivate, and I’d always envied how it came to him so easily.

“Family!” he said cheerfully, standing behind his chair and opening his arms, surveying us grandly. “You’re all here! I’m so glad you made it. Inika, my sweet girl, you look beautiful.”

Papa was already on to his next compliment, singing my uncle’s praises as he took his seat without giving me a chance to respond. Perhaps that was why Papa seemed to get along with everyone. He wasn’t actually conversing with them, just interacting with them.

“You still working at Om-Guard?” Uncle Devyan asked gruffly, eyeing me warily. He had three big, boisterous alpha sons, and never seemed entirely sure how he was supposed to talk to me.

“Yes, Uncle. For the past twelve years.”

He grunted, pouring himself a top-up from the bottles of wine on the table.

Great chat.

Fortunately, the lights dimmed, and the presenters came on stage to begin the awards portion of the evening not long after. Papa knew everyone and happily supplied the table with factoids and anecdotes about all of them as the night progressed.

“This is us,” Papa whispered loudly, leaning forwards and giving us all a cheerful, conspiratorial grin before sitting up at attention and focusing on the stage. I couldn’t help but smile at his antics. Papa’s energy was so jubilant at all times, it was difficult to not to feel a little of that joy seeping in. Often, I’d wondered if it was why Mama had been drawn to him in the first place. She had a nervous temperament and hated the social events that being mating to a Dara necessitated. But she wasn’t nearly as stressed about any of that when Papa was around.

I tuned back in right as the presenter announced that the award for best employer would go to Om-Guard, pasting on my most brilliant smile right before the videographer panned over to me.

Papa and the Om-Guard management team made their way on stage as the hundreds of people in the room clapped and cheered. I stood up with the rest of the family, applauding right along with them, my cheeks hurting from smiling.

For all the pressure my position in life put on me, I couldn’t deny how proud I was of my father and everything he’d accomplished. And I knew I’d never live up to it. There was no world in which I’d be standing on that stage, accepting an award for my entrepreneurial accomplishments.

Mama looked over at me, eyes shining with happy tears. She’d always been a crier.

“Oh, Inika. Isn’t this wonderful?” She grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly. “What an incredible life we have.”

“Incredible,” I agreed, my smile fixed in place.

Perhaps, someday, it would feel like that life belonged to me.

Chapter 2

BLAKE

Iscoffed quietly to myself as I approached the immaculately kept brick manor in Mayfair. Of course, the spoiled pretty princess omega whose staff had been nagging and demanding my services for months lived here. Where else?

I’d done my fair share of projects for wealthy wankers over the years, but they were my least favourite jobs to work on, even if the buildings themselves were incredible. Most of those clients didn’t actually care about preserving the character and heritage of the home. They cared that I was booked out months in advance, and I’d worked on other rich fuckers’ houses, and there’d been a bullshit article about me in the paper, stood in front of some freshly restored cornices like a tosser.

I should have been working on a beautiful chapel right now in collaboration with the historical society. But they ran out of money and put the project on hold, so here I was.

A staff member—an inoffensive-smelling beta with a faintly disdainful expression—opened the front door, pursing his lips at the sight of me. I didn’t dress to impress clients; I dressed to work. If that offended Miss Uptown Omega, then maybe she’d pull the plug on this idea and send me on my way. She’d been first up on the cancellation waitlist, but I had other options.

“Blake Alwis?” the snobby butler asked, his nose wrinkling slightly in distaste at my affirmative nod. “Right this way, Ms Dara is expecting you.”

Though, it would be slightly disappointing if the omega pulled the pin now, if only because I wanted to get a peek under the curtains at this magnificent property. It was undoubtedly a masterclass in craftsmanship.

The room that the butler led me to was the closest to the front door, limiting my opportunities to look around. Though, what I could see wasn’t particularly worth looking at. It could be the interior of any modern build from this angle.

I added it to my list of crimes the wealthy had committed. They had plenty of money—just build a new house if you wanted it to look like a new house. Leave the ones with character for the rest of us.

Though the rest of us couldn’t afford to live in Mayfair.

“Ms Dara? Mr Alwis is here to see you,” the butler called through the door, announcing his presence with a gentle knock.

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