Page 78 of Broken Omega

I mean, really it would be his fault if I missed one.

Or all of them.

Ugh. No. I have to make myself go.

He’ll only punish me by making me marry one of the guys I crossed off my list of Alphas. Probably the worst one. Lachlan Darvish, or one of his creepy friends. I’m not even entirely sure which one is the absolute worst of the worst, but I bet my father already knows.

The sharp little beep the phone makes on the nightstand makes me jump under the sheets.

I glance at it and see the light blinking on the receiver.

Oh, shit. Someone’s left me a message.

Please, please, don’t be Daddy Dearest.

I let my arm work free of the sheets, but I stop short of reaching for the handset.

I could just ignore it. Pretend I didn’t hear the phone ringing before.

It’s not like I don’t have an excuse.

I saw dead bodies last night, and I passed out in the bath once I got back to my room.

Neither of those things are normal occurrences.

Trauma is to be expected. In fact, I might insist on Doctor Prentice helping me work through my feelings about what happened, instead of quizzing me over my list. My father might be heartless, but she can’t pretend what I saw was nothing.

Anyone would be shaken after that.

I pick up the phone before I can change my mind.

“Please tell me he isn’t coming for a visit,” I murmur as I click the button to retrieve the message.

I hold my breath as I wait for it.

My mouth falls open when I hear Lana’s soft, friendly voice instead of my father’s.

“Due to last night’s incident, we ask that all Omegas stay in their suites this weekend and call the kitchen to order any meals as and when required. Please call reception if you have any questions and we’ll be happy to help. Thank you.”

It’s a pre-recorded message that she must have sent to everyone at a set time.

That’s not something that happens a lot, but it has happened before.

I dial the number for reception. The line is busy.

Guess I should put some clothes on and dig my cell out from under those cabinets.

I put the handset down and drag my ass out of bed.

Going through my dresser drawers, I pick out a well-worn pair of jeans, a tank top, and a loose sweater. I ignore the underwear drawer that I usually use, and pull out a basic, comfortable sports bra and cotton panties.

It feels good to put on my casualwear. I really don’t want to leave my suite today, but I’m pretty sure that standard message Lana left on my machine doesn’t apply to me. At least, not in the case of my therapy session.

I roll up the sleeves of my sweater and put the TV on when I step into the living room. I need the background noise to make the suite feel less empty. It always kind of feels like a bit too much space for one person to occupy, but I know that’s only because I’m sick of being alone.

That’s why I still attend classes I’ve long outgrown.

I need the company, even if it’s superficial.

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