Page 2 of Excess

Maia nodded thoughtfully. “My mam would probably have a heart attack if I told her about it. Which I won’t, obviously. She’d definitely say it was rich people nonsense, though.”

“It’s absolutely rich people nonsense,” I agreed. I suspected even more of my life was rich people nonsense than I realised.

“Do you need anything else from me before I head out?” Maia asked. “Need me to call that agency or whatever for you?”

My lips twitched. “No, I can manage that on my own. Thank you.”

I recognised that I was out of touch by most people’s standards, but it would be a truly grim day when I outsourced the coordination of my sex appointments.

“Very good.” Maia stood, grabbing the textured leather tote bag I’d bought her for her birthday from the empty chair next to her and tucking her phone into the inside pocket. “Oh, I meant to tell you that I finally heard back from that plasterer this morning. Blake what’s-his-face.” She wrinkled her nose. “He’s a rude prick, if I’m being completely honest. He had a last-minute cancellation so I guess he can fit you in. He wants to come around tomorrow and see the space. What do you want me to tell him? You’re free until midday, though I’m guessing tonight is going to be a late night.”

I hummed in agreement, immediately feeling flat at the reminder of tonight’s event. “It’ll be fine. I don’t intend on staying out late. Tell him he can come first thing and I’ll show him the space. Let’s see if this guy lives up to the hype.”

“Inika! There you are,” Mama said, grabbing my hands with her slightly shaky ones and giving them a light squeeze as she kissed the air next to my cheek. “You’re late, my darling.”

“Fashionably so,” I replied airily, rather than telling her that I’d had to unwillingly drag myself out from the depths of my nest and force myself into this skintight silk dress at the last possible minute.

“The awards haven’t started yet, at least.” Mama’s smile was tight, the scent of omega distress permeating the air. Not for long, though. She’d excuse herself to slather on one of the many tubes of Om-Guard she had in her clutch. I suspected there were a few medically prescribed goodies in there designed to keep her calm too, but she’d never admit to it.

“Papa would have been upset if you’d missed his moment. It’s your moment too, you know. Our moment, as a family.” She squeezed my fingers once more before releasing me. “You’re his legacy.”

“I wouldn’t have dreamed of missing it,” I murmured, dropping my voice to the low, soothing tenor that Mama often required. “You know that.”

I plucked a glass of champagne from a passing tray as she vanished into the crowd to go de-scent herself. I’d applied a thin layer of Om-Guard before I’d left the house, but I entirely expected my parents to hint that I should add another coat during the course of the evening. It was the family business, after all.

Legacy.

That word was heavy. I didn’t want to be a legacy, I wanted to be an individual. I wanted to make choices for myself.

But I’d also lived a life of unimaginable privilege—one which that legacy had afforded me. It was suffocating, and yet, as far as problems went, life could have certainly dealt me a worse hand.

“Inika.” Samira, an elderly member of the board who’d been serving as long as I’d lived, leaned in to give me an air kiss. “So wonderful to see you. That colour is stunning on you. Did you come alone tonight?”

I should have known the compliment wasn’t free.

“I did.” I smiled sweetly, deflecting the disapproval radiating from her pursed lips and the tight lines around her narrowed eyes.

“My grandson, Emmett, recently took a mate, did you hear?”

“I hadn’t heard, no. That’s wonderful. Please pass on my congratulations.”

She hummed lightly, dissatisfied with my answer. Samira wasn’t the only board member who’d hoped I’d pick a mate from their multitude of relatives. A suitable, well-connected alpha to take over the running of Om-Guard once my father stood down, leaving me safely tucked up in some country estate somewhere with as many children as my robust omega uterus could carry.

I was a great disappointment to all of them. Unfortunately for them, I was at least partially fuelled by spite, so that fact brought me great joy.

“You’re very brave attending these things on your own.” Samira sniffed, all alpha superiority. I had to give her credit, she was determined to keep pushing me for a reaction even though I was very intentionally not giving her one. “Not many unmated omegas would walk into a room like this without any sign of distress. It’s an unnatural situation for you to be in.”

“Is it?” I took a sip of my champagne. “I’ve never known any different.”

I’d been attending these soirées since I was fresh out of the womb. Likely while I was still in the womb, though I wouldn’t be shocked to hear that Mama had put herself under total house arrest the moment she started showing.

“No, I suppose not,” Samira agreed, looking away to survey the room with barely contained disdain. “You’re not a regular omega.”

I was, though. At my core, I was a regular omega who wanted regular omega things. The things that made me irregular were pushed on me by the circumstances of my birth. By society. By my family. By everyone and everything, except myself.

Why was I so maudlin today? It must be because my heat was looming on the horizon again. It forced me to evaluate my life choices on an annual basis, and I wasn’t always pleased with what I found.

“We should probably take our seats,” I suggested, spotting Samira’s mate across the room and exhaling slightly. We definitely weren’t going to be sitting at the same table, at least.

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