Pew! Pew! Take that you skeezy motherfucker!
Dragging me into a darkened room, locking the door behind him. Forcing me down onto my knees and—
Fuck, I needed a nuclear bomb to go into this fucking thing, not a goddamn quiver.
“This will, of course, be the gown for the big event, but you’ll need a range of new pieces for the entire season. Summer dresses for luncheons, some smart separates for more casual affairs, and lingerie…”
Madam Colette was transported off into a rapture, her eyes glowing because she was seeing a stream of dollar signs or she really loved all this shit, I didn’t know. My gaze slid to Mum, who bore all of this with equanimity.
This wasn’t what she’d wanted. Part of me wondered if some of her drive to succeed in business came from my surprise designation. She’d expected to have a beta daughter, for her to get good grades and follow her into the corporate world, going to university and getting a degree, then onto financial and social independence. Instead, she’d been saddled with an omega.
My school had put her options to her, about the various private schools that would take me on, paying her a substantial stipend in exchange for introducing me to the eligible alphas in the family, forming connections before I could legally decide. It was a way to get an inside track on what was a rare commodity, and most families of omegas, outside those born to affluent families, jumped at the opportunity. Better that than to attract unruly neighbourhood alphas to your door, ones who wouldn’t take no for an answer. But Mum, she’d shaken her head at all of this. If being part of the elite was what would protect me, she’d punch through the glass beta ceiling, and she had. She met my gaze, reaching out and squeezing my hand before shooting me a little smile.
“We’ll get what Cyn feels comfortable with,” Mum replied, cutting off Colette’s laundry list, the woman’s mouth snapping shut, but those sharp brown eyes arrowed in on me quick smart. I was the prey, and she the predator.
“Of course, my dears.” She moved over to the screen, swiping until she pulled up the omega season calendar. “Which of the events were you intending to attend?”
And there it all was, the battlefield all young omegas were thrust into, where males and females of our designation met those alphas with enough power, influence, and money to warrant the opportunity. I looked at the parties and soirees and the boating events and the polo and found my jaw tightening further and further, but I forced a long breath out. This was it, until I chose, this was my life. I could be forty years old, and I’d still be expected to present myself for the season.
“All of it,” I said, feeling everything Mum had done for me as an almost tangible weight. This was going to cost a small bloody fortune, and I couldn’t keep doing that to her. “Outfit me sufficiently for all of it.”
Mum’s eyes jerked up from her tablet, surprise writ large there.
“Can’t be the virgin queen forever, can I?” I said with a smirk, but Mum wasn’t fooled. Her eyes narrowed, letting me know we’d be having a conversation about this later. That was OK—she’d talk, I’d listen. It’d be good practise for what was to come.
“Well, we better get started then,” Madam Colette said.
Chapter 4
I was regretting this already.
“Hello, darling!” George said, walking towards me. Resplendent in a perfectly white suit, a blue shirt underneath, open at the neck, and loafers on, he looked the perfect part of a billionaire playboy. Because he kind of was.
‘Was’ bei
ng the operative word. Coming from an old family whose money had been pissed up against the wall in a blaze of glory still talked about, George was the big bad beta of the upper classes, and now, he was chaperone to those who could afford it. Unmated omegas at social events needed to have either a family member or trusted beta in tow to ensure everything stayed above board.
“Well, look at you!” He held out his hands, taking mine and then spinning me around. “I was shocked to receive your mother’s call, then I half expected you to turn up in fatigues and combat boots.”
I wrinkled my nose. I’d tossed the idea around a few times, ultimately deciding not to spurn what Mum’s money and Madam Colette had wrought. I wore what was usually beta fashion—a slim fitting sheath dress in white linen and oversized sunglasses. All very Jackie O, darling. But to make sure all around me knew what I was, a thick beaten gold collar of a necklace, apparently made especially for me, had been snicked around my neck, a perfect fit.
“Oh, the collar is a master stroke,” he continued. “Every bloody alpha here will be imagining themselves as being the one to place a real one around your neck. I’ll have to fight them off with a stick. Colette’s genius?”
“You were the one who put Mother on to her, so of course,” I said, looking out at the open patio. We were at the home of the Ratcliffe family, or one of them. Daddy came from a long line of robber barons, and this was one of his ill-gotten gains. “So what’s today’s aberration—I mean, celebration?”
He snickered at that, his teeth too white and perfect against his tan. He took my arm in his and led me forward.
“The inaugural start of the season breakfast of course. All the Bloody Marys and mimosas you can stand.”
“Dear god, yes,” I said as he steered us closer to the crowds. “I require a Bloody Mary, extra bloody, stat.”
“Your wish is my command, sweets.”
“George! So glad you could make it. And who is this beautiful creature you’re squiring about the place?”
“Benson Ratcliffe. He owns the place,” George hissed at me, because it’d been seven bloody years since I’d done the circuit. Usually, we met at the Omega Ball, hung around for as long as was required, and then I beat a hasty retreat, leaving him to get pissed with his old friends.
“Is this one of your lovely beta companions or…?”