Page 70 of Excess

“Well,” said Hans after a lingering silence, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “That’s probably all we needed to discuss with you, Inika.”

“Excellent.” I moved to stand, but Papa chose that moment to finally speak up.

“Inika, please wait. Let’s wrap the meeting up for today, hm?” he said to the rest of the room. “We can resume the conversation later.”

Everyone hurriedly packed up their things, eager to get out of the stifling boardroom. The omega urge to fuss and soothe was still there—I hadn’t shaken it completely—but it wasn’t as pressing as it usually was. Maybe because I was still so drained from my heat that I didn’t have anything left to give.

Or maybe it was Blake. Either way, I wasn’t going to question my good luck.

I startled as Samira’s hand landed softly on my forearm, and she gave me a far kinder smile than the one she usually gave me. “I’m happy for you, Inika. You seem more… settled. Within yourself. Good for you.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, not particularly taking her words to heart. I’m sure Samira didn’t have ill intentions, but it worked out in her best interests to have one less obstacle to deal with.

They all filed out of the room, and I did my best not to grin to myself at the thought of them walking past a scowling Blake in the hallway. Who knew what they’d make of him. I was confident that he wouldn’t be impressed by them.

“Inie…” Papa began, closing his laptop and peering at me like he’d never seen me before. “Lately, I look at you and I feel like I don’t know you anymore.”

I nodded at that fair assessment. “I understand, Papa. The problem is that for a long time, I’ve been having that thought myself every time I looked in the mirror. I’m afraid that’s no way to live.”

Unlike our one-sided, unproductive dining table conversation a few days ago, he actually appeared to be listening to me this time. With no small amount of discomfort, I noted happily. It wasn’t that I wanted him to suffer, but I did want him to hear me.

“All this time, I’ve been working towards a dream that I’m not sure was ever really mine. I never gave myself the space to consider what my dreams might be, because this was the path that was set for me and I followed it faithfully. And I still don’t really know, but that’s okay. Now I’m free to figure it out, without this predefined future hanging over my head.”

“And the alpha you’ve chosen?” Papa asked. “You’ve never mentioned him before. I know it’s not Hugo, I spoke to him on the phone during your heat and he reiterated what you’d said about there being no possibility there.”

My eye twitched at that, and I took a few calming breaths before I said something I regretted. Papa made no apologies for that—he probably didn’t even comprehend the fact that he’d completely steamrolled me, and I wasn’t going to get into it today. Sometimes, I wasn’t in the mood to gently educate full-grown alphas on the concept of other people having feelings.

“Blake is the alpha I have chosen, and I love him,” I replied simply. “In all of the dreams I have for my future, he’s right there with me.”

For all Papa’s flaws—and I wasn’t feeling overly forgiving about them at the moment—he finally managed a tentative smile. “Well, I better meet him, then. But not without Mama—she’ll never forgive me otherwise.”

“Come to my house for dinner,” I suggested, though there wasn’t much room for negotiation in my voice. I infinitely preferred the option of having them come to a space that Blake was familiar with for this encounter rather than us going to them. “You can meet Blake and we’ll show you the home we’re looking at purchasing together.”

I lifted my chin, daring him to disagree. I was thirty-four years old. I’d spent my entire life doing what was expected of me, and I wasn’t about to do it for another second more.

“I’ll go home and get Mama, and we’ll see you soon.”

Chapter 22

BLAKE

ONE YEAR LATER

“Are you sure you’ve got the Fontaine job under control?” I asked Leo as we drove home after work, Freya sitting in the seat between us, elbow-deep in a bag of crackers that was probably turning her white school uniform shirt orange.

“Yes,” Leo replied, exasperated. “We’re leaving all the decorative stuff until you’re back on board anyway, and we built your ten days off into the project scope. Stop stressing, Blake.”

“Aunty Inika says stressing isn’t good for your heart, Uncle Blake,” Freya added serenely before shoving another handful of crackers into her mouth.

“You can remember that but you can’t remember to wear your tie to school.”

Freya shrugged, unbothered, while Leo watched her affectionately. For now, she lived in the main house with Inika, Dad, and I, while Leo was on his own in the outbuilding we’d done up a few feet from the big house. Freya had a bedroom there too, and she’d probably spent most of next week there while Inika and I retreated to the nest, but the current arrangement suited us all just fine for now.

Freya had needed consistency, and Leo had needed time and space to sort his head out. This setup had given us both. Freya had been excelling at her new school—with the exception of all the uniform infractions she’d received—and Leo had been going to grief counselling and showing up to work with me each day.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than it had been in years. We had Inika to thank for that.

She came out to meet us as we pulled up in front of the house, still looking like my expensive city girl in her dark blue skirt and matching loose crop top, though the knee-high yellow wellington boots were a country touch.

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