Page 41 of Excess

“Did any of you actually speak to Hugo?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as I surveyed the table. “I assure you, we’re quite on the same page about this.”

“But you got along so well,” Stasia all but wailed. “The two of you were laughing all night!”

“Well, yes.” I frowned. “That’s because I’m funny.”

Not that Hugo was unfunny, but I’d been the one really bringing the jokes.

“Inika,” Ivy all but pleaded. “Please don’t rule him out. You haven’t even given him a chance! Your father mentioned what the Om-Guard Board said…”

I gave Papa an accusing look, and he had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed.

“Hugo would be perfect,” Stasia added, a dreamy look on her face. “You’ve only got a couple of weeks haven’t you?”

“Stasia,” Brigitte scolded. It was poor form to bring up my impending heat in general, let alone in a public cafe.

“I know, I know, but this is an emergency,” Stasia sighed. “We need to have a frank conversation here, B. Before Inika makes the worst mistake of her life.”

Was this an intervention? Perhaps it hadn’t started out that way, but that was the direction it had gone in.

“Inika is thirty-four, and more than capable of making her own decisions,” I reminded them gently, rolling my neck and trying to repress the omega urge to roll over and submit. To make the tension go away by any means necessary.

If there was ever a time to fight against that instinct, it was now.

“We know, darling,” Papa said gently, his eyes sad. “But you have been ignoring your responsibilities for so long. And perhaps that is my fault, for not being firmer with you. But I’m afraid I might have to be now.”

Mama clasped his hand, dabbing her eyes with the other.

I was a reasonable person. I was. I didn’t like making a fuss. Calm and collected was my default state of being.

But there was a strange, hot, itchy feeling crawling up my spine that might have been rage.

“Invite this Hugo home for dinner to meet us. Court him properly, Inie. If you truly feel in your heart that he would be a cruel mate to you, then of course, you should not invite him to your nest. But if he is a nice alpha, if he is kind, and behaves as a man in his position ought to, then I cannot abide by you not doing everything within your power to secure such a match.”

“We’re just all ignoring the part where he’s not interested, are we?” I asked drily. Or at least that was the tone I was aiming for, though I suspected some of the bitterness I was feeling leaked through.

Apparently we were all ignoring that, since no one acknowledged I’d spoken.

“Inika, if you want to maintain the lifestyle you have—” Papa began as my friends gasped at the threat of me being disinherited. And to give my parents a small amount of credit, I supposed, they looked pained by the words Papa was saying.

But he was still threatening me, so I wasn’t feeling overly charitable about it.

“Noted,” I cut in, pushing out of my seat. “If you’ll excuse me, I have places I need to be.”

The weight of alpha disapproval and omega distress felt like an anchor, physically dragging me down with each step forwards I took, but I pushed on regardless. This was a conversation that had been a long time coming, and I’d needed to have it, no matter how painful it felt to let everyone down.

Whatever choices I made from here on out, whatever happened, the decisions were going to be mine. The mistakes were going to be mine.

And hopefully, I’d find some joy in there too.

I didn’t wait for Lúcás to collect me, hailing a cab instead to make the short trip home. It was only once I was home and helping myself to a glass of water in the kitchen that I finally pulled my phone out of my purse, unable to resist reading the messages that would undoubtedly hurt my feelings.

Before I could, an incoming call flashed on the screen.

“Ms Dara? It’s Annelise here from Prendre.”

“Hi, Annelise. How are you?” I asked, balancing the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I poured more water. A definite sign that my heat was approaching—I was always so thirsty in the lead-up.

“Fine, thank you. I was just calling as we really need to set up some interviews for you for your next session with us.” Session was such a polite way of saying week-long fuck fest. “Would you like us to come to you as we did last year?”

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