Page 82 of In Knots

“Yes, good to have you here, Charles.” He offers his hand to my father and their shake is strong, two alphas asserting their dominance. Then he kisses my mother and glances towards me. “And this is the girl, is it?” he says. “I can see why my son is taken with you. Very beautiful, very beautiful. Just like you, Marina.”

“You always were a flatterer, Marcus,” my mother says.

“Not flattery. Just speaking the truth.”

“Well, come forward, dear,” Simon’s mother says. “What a lovely dress! Always so beautifully dressed.” She takes my hands in hers and kisses my cheeks.

Around us, the air hangs heavy, the threat of rain clouds lurking heavy behind the house. It’s going to rain.

Simon’s father takes my hands in his next and pulls me into the house.

“Come on. Simon’s just pouring drinks. Gin and tonics, everyone?”

“It’s hot enough,” my mother says. “Sounds divine.”

We walk into the shadows. I can smell Simon’s scent as soon as we’re inside, and my nose crinkles. I dig my nails deep into the flesh of my palms and bite my cheek.

I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here. Why have they made me come? Why won’t they listen? Why do they never listen?

I try to remember that my parents love me and that they want the best for me. I just need them to see thatthisisn’t the best.Thisis the worst.

We walk through the grand house and out to the back where another manicured terrace waits for us with a table set for lunch.

And Simon.

He wears light chinos and a blue button shirt, his hair neatly trimmed, his face clean-shaven, his skin tanned, those teeth gleaming white. His eyes sweep up and down my body and he grins.

“Beautiful as always, Alexa,” he says, and the other women both swoon.

My mother pinches my arm and whispers in my ear.

“See a charmer just like his father. Relax Alexa and enjoy yourself.”

Usually, I’d smile automatically at such a command, but it doesn’t come today. I think I must look as pale as a ghost. I feel like all the blood has drained from my body. I feel weak. My skin feels uncomfortable and tight, and it’s hot. So hot. The air needs to break just so we can have some damn relief.

“We borrowed the chef from Giovanni’s,” Mr. Stanford tells us. “He’s cooking for us today.”

“Oh, how marvellous,” my mother says. “I love their food. Isn’t that fabulous, Alexa?” she asks, her eyes flicking between Simon and me.

“Yes,” I mumble, " … lovely.” I scratch at the back of my neck, that scent growing stronger in my nose as Simon approaches and hands me my drink.

“So good you could all join us today. Lovely for the two families to be together. I’m sure we’ll all be spending much more time together shortly.” He smiles in my direction, lifting his glass.

“Well,” my father says, “I hope so.”

I stare down into my drink. Three ice cubes float on the surface, knocking against a slice of yellow lemon. I want to hook one out and run it around my brow, under my hairline, down my top. I want to suck it in my mouth

I’m so hot. So oppressed. I can’t breathe.

I step away from Simon, away from his scent, and take a long gulp of my drink.

I can tell everyone is looking at me, examining me, watching me. I feel faint.

My mother steps toward me and hooks her arm through mine. She whispers to the others as if she thinks I can’t hear, “Alexa, is a little nervous. It’s all so overwhelming for an omega, all so new.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Mrs. Stanford hurries to my other side. She guides me towards the chairs and the two mothers push me down into a seat.

Mrs. Stanford’s concerned eyes flip to me, but then she asks my mother about Nice, and they start to compare dinner spots and new boutiques. The alphas remain standing on the patio, talking of business and other things I hardly hear. The mixture of words float in my ears and around my head, but make no sense.

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