14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

INIKA

U gh.

I was so sticky .

There was still a week or so until my heat hit—I'd never been less prepared for it in my life—but the symptoms were really making themselves known this time around. It took all of the energy I had to crawl out of my nest and stumble into the bathroom, blasting the shower on lukewarm to cool myself off and scrubbing my sweat-soaked skin clean. Chances are tomorrow, I'd wake up feeling completely normal. This was just a little preview of the symptoms, but they wouldn't kick in properly for another few days.

I exhaled, pumping a liberal amount of Om-Guard body wash onto a washcloth. It was time to end the arrangement with Blake. It had to be. He—very reasonably—wasn't going to join me for my heat. I had to put some emotional distance between us now, especially if I was going to go ahead with an alpha-for-hire from Prendre.

Maia was drinking coffee in the kitchen, and I opted to join her there to eat breakfast, while Graeme huffed at the change in routine.

"So," Maia began, giving me a sidelong look. "Your parents really wanted to talk to you yesterday."

I grimaced. "Sorry. It didn't even occur to me that they'd be bothering you too."

She shrugged, unbothered. "I just kept repeating that I'd passed on their request for you to call them—which I did, though I don't think you read it—and left it at that."

"I avoided my phone yesterday. I might do the same today. I've got plenty of work to do—I'll just hole up in my office and only respond to company emails."

"Fair. You haven't really given me anything to do, but I have some Om-Guard stuff to work on if that's cool?"

"Of course." Technically, Maia was partially employed by the company too. Once upon a time, I'd really needed an assistant. My social calendar had been full, I'd hosted events, and served on boards and committees.

But perhaps I didn't really need one anymore? I wasn't doing any of that stuff and I had no intention of starting it again.

"Mmk. I might head into the office then if you don't need me. Mix it up a bit," Maia laughed, putting her cup in the dishwasher. "Have a good day."

"You too," I murmured. Graeme had already disappeared, possibly to go and unnecessarily supervise Blake who I'd heard arrive but hadn't seen as he'd bypassed the kitchen.

I ate my fruit and yoghurt alone in the cavernous room, feeling a little smaller than I usually did. Papa had chosen this house for me. It was around the corner from my parents and it had been purchased by the family trust, so it wasn't even technically mine . Not really.

Between the salary I'd been saving for years and the investments I had from the inheritance my grandparents had given me…

I could move. The idea had never occurred to me before. But why not? If I wasn't going to dedicate my future to being mated to the director of Om-Guard… Well, I didn't have to stay here.

Was this what a mid-life crisis looked like?

Or perhaps it was just my impending heat approaching and making me restless. Now probably wasn't the time to make any major decisions.

But I was tempted.

Shaking off the sudden urge to torpedo my entire life just for a change of scenery, I put my own dishes in the dishwasher and made two cups of tea in travel mugs. What I needed to be focusing on was the arrangements for my heat first. The existential crisis could wait until later.

I heard Blake before I saw him, his voice filled with frustration as he spoke to someone on the phone. He gestured for me to stay as I set the cup I'd made for him down on the scaffolding.

"Alright. I'll sort it out," he snapped before hanging up, exhaling heavily as he pocketed his phone. "Sorry. I didn't mean for you to hear that. Though I suppose I don't need to be quite so worried about professionalism with you," he added wryly, picking up his tea with a nodded thanks.

"Bit late for that," I agreed with a laugh. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes. Well, no." He frowned, surveying his surroundings. "I can't really leave now—I've already started plastering. But Freya's school is closed today and she needs picking up from a sleepover, but my brother is… out of commission. Dad was going to go, but the car has crapped out."

Blake shook his head, the frustration pouring off him in waves.

"I can get Freya? Or is that weird? It's probably weird." I shrugged. "But she's more than welcome to come and hang out with me here until you're finished for the day."

He paused with the cup halfway to his lips, giving me a considering look. "Are you sure? It's a bit of a trek to get there, but she wouldn't be a problem. Freya is very well-behaved."

"I know that." I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. She was a great kid. "It's honestly fine. I've got a bunch of emails I need to answer. I'll do them in the car."

"If you're sure… I'll call the kid's mum and let her know to expect you."

"Perfect. Message me the address. I'll go rouse Lúcás." It was between him and Maia for who had the easiest job in the house these days. I barely went anywhere or did anything.

Traffic was awful, and it was a trek to Norbury, where Freya's friend lived, but the look on Freya's face made it entirely worth it. She threw open the front door with a beaming smile, barrelling down the path and throwing herself against me, her little arms wrapping tightly around my waist.

"Hi," I said gently, hugging her back, my heart turning into a puddle of goo in my chest. "How are you? Did you have fun with your friend?"

A beta woman came out of the house with a tentative smile, holding out a sparkly pink unicorn bag for me to take here. "Hi. Here are Freya's things—I think we got it all, didn't we, Freya? If not, Hallie can bring it to you at school. Sorry I couldn't drop her off—I've got six-month-old twins and leaving the house is a bit of a production these days."

"It was no trouble for me to pick her up," I assured her. The woman gave me a slightly bemused smile, glancing at the brand-new vehicle behind me with Lúcás sitting in the front seat. Admittedly, it did stand out a little. "Ready to go, Freya? You're going to come and hang out with me until your uncle finishes work. Is that okay?"

Freya squealed, releasing my waist only to grab my hand and drag me towards the car, shouting a hasty goodbye to her friend over her shoulder.

That she was so touchy-feely wasn't unusual—omegas were like that with people they cared about from the moment they could. I just hadn't expected to be part of that circle.

"What are we going to do at your house?" Freya asked, sliding across the backseat and buckling in. Shoot, did she need a car seat? Probably. I didn't know anything about children. "Oh hello, I'm Freya. What's your name?" she asked, noticing Lúcás in the driver's seat.

He grinned at her through the rearview mirror. "I'm Lúcás. How old are you, Freya?"

"Five and a half."

"I have a little boy that's just one year older than you," Lúcás replied.

I exhaled in relief at the proximity of an actual parent. "Do you usually sit in a car seat, Freya?"

She shrugged. "Not in Grandad's car. He says they didn't bother with them back in his day."

I caught Lúcás's lips twitch in the mirror. "There's a shop round the corner where we could probably pick up a booster."

"Let's do that then."

A booster seat and a smoothie later, we headed back to Mayfair, with Freya talking a mile a minute about the glitter slime she'd made at her friend's house.

Considering how unaccustomed I was to being around children—especially without another adult there as a buffer—it was a surprisingly easy experience. I suspected that Freya was so used to being around adults that she wholly expected to be spoken to like one anyway.

"This is your house?" she asked, flatting her nose to the window as the enormous double doors opened, allowing Lúcás to drive us directly into the courtyard.

"It is." I suddenly felt quite sheepish about it, imagining how large it looked from her perspective. Maybe I should call a realtor and just let the mid-life crisis run its course.

"Wow," Freya whispered. "It's like a castle."

"It is a bit," I agreed, my face heating as I caught Lúcás's eye in the rearview mirror.

Graeme met us in the courtyard as we climbed out of the vehicle, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Undoubtedly, Mama had already heard all about this. I was selfishly glad that her nervous temperament meant she wouldn't storm over here herself. She never went anywhere without Papa.

"This is a change in routine," he clipped. I could have sworn I felt my blood pressure rise in real time.

"It is," I agreed. "Come on, Freya. Let's go say hi to your uncle so he knows you got here safely."

She marvelled over everything as we headed up the stairs, trailing her fingers along the wall of windows in a way that I knew would deeply distress Graeme later. It wasn't the most kid-friendly of homes.

"There you are," Blake said, peering down at us from the scaffold above. "Everything alright?" he asked, looking at me.

"Fine," I assured him. "I thought we could go and make some lunch for all of us, Freya. What do you think?"

"Okay," she agreed instantly, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"You don't have to do that," Blake said, still staring at me. "Frey can just camp out here and watch stuff on my phone. Don't feel like you need to entertain her."

"That's no fun—it's all dusty and noisy here. We can watch a movie on the big screen downstairs. It's really no hassle, Blake. I'll get some work done at the same time."

"Do you have a chef?" Freya asked once we were back in the kitchen. "Like at a real palace?"

"Sadly, no," I laughed. My parents employed a cook, but they entertained a lot more than I did. "But I quite like cooking. How about you?"

Freya climbed up onto one of the barstools, briefly making my heart stop in my chest until I was confident she wasn't going to tip over.

"Not really." She shrugged.

"I respect that. Do you eat prawns?"

She nodded, swinging her feet as I meandered around the kitchen, pulling out supplies. I'd asked Graeme to pick up the prawns with the vague idea of doing a prawn curry, but a risotto would be faster and easier, and it seemed more child-friendly.

What did kids even eat? I didn't own any chicken nuggets. I made a mental note that Graeme should add some of those to the grocery order next time. He'd love that.

I poured Freya a cup of water, setting it down in front of her on the island. Should I give her a snack while she waited for lunch? No, risotto didn't take long. I didn't want her to spoil her appetite.

That sounded responsible, right?

"Is Uncle Blake your boyfriend?" Freya asked nonchalantly as I started peeling and deveining the prawns, immediately making me fumble the one I was holding.

"Um, no." I laughed, though it sounded a little less natural than I'd hoped for.

"Why not?"

From the mouths of babes…

"We're just friends."

Freya pursed her lips, as though she was deciding whether she was going to start an argument or not.

"If you were Uncle Blake's girlfriend, you could be my aunty. I'd like that."

I was only human. How was I meant to stay detached in the face of that?

"That would be cool," I agreed. "But I get to be your friend instead, and that's pretty good too, right?"

Freya took a sip of her water, watching me over the rim of the cup. I wasn't sure I'd ever felt so judged in my life, and I'd had my fashion choices eviscerated in high-society magazines for years.

"I guess so. But I think it would be better if you were my aunty. I'll tell Uncle Blake that."

I suspected that I'd only make it worse if I tried to talk her out of it, so I changed the subject to her sleepover instead and hoped she'd forget all about it.

It was a quick meal to throw together, and half an hour later, Blake joined us around the island while I dished up bowls of pea and prawn risotto.

"Where's the butler?" he asked, looking around as though Graeme would pop out of a cupboard.

I did my best to hide my smile. "He has the afternoon off. I suspect he spends it having tea with Mama, though they're both very cagey about it when I ask."

Blake scowled at that, though he perked up considerably once he started eating.

"This is so yummy," Freya said. "Inika is a good cook, isn't she, Uncle Blake? I want her to be my aunty."

He went very red in the face, and I slid a glass of water across to him, shaking with laughter in my seat.

"However, Freya is happy that her and I are friends. Isn't that right, Freya?" I prompted.

"Kind of." She shrugged before shovelling an impressively large spoonful of risotto into her mouth.

"Great," Blake mumbled, clearing his throat. "I wonder what other interesting observations you'll come up with this afternoon, Frey."

She narrowed her eyes at him, understanding the sarcastic tone if not the actual words. Suddenly, she tilted her head, turning her gaze back on me in a way that was somewhat terrifying.

"Or you could be my dad's girlfriend—"

Blake made a strangled sound. "Don't even finish that sentence, Freya."