Page 7 of Scheme
“Yes,” I agreed, confused about where this was going. “I imagine so. Speaking of school, the Sutton-Harris School is still really keen to interview Asher—”
“The scandal could ruineverything,” Dad continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “And while I’m doing my best to ensure the more, er,unsavouryelements of Calum’s passing don’t become public knowledge, I think it would be best to distract from it entirely.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible—”
“Jules’ first heat is due soon, and Taytum seems certain that she’ll be accompanying Jules into her nest.” He paused to cut me a side eye, a silent reminder of my failure to deliver on that front. “But Jules and Taytum have been together for so long that their mating is entirely expected.”
The alarm bells in my head that usually operated on a low steady hum whenever I had to interact with my parents were now blaring at full force.
“Whatwouldbe unexpected would beyouinviting an alpha to your nest, Margot, after your failure with Fraser and your, shall we call it reticence, to pursue anything with an alpha ever since. It’s been fourteen years, Margot. You need to stop pining over him. He’s a happily mated alpha now.”
I gaped at him for a long moment, too stunned to speak. Pining?Pining?
“I am notpiningafter Fraser,” I spluttered. “That’s not the reason—”
“Fortunately for you, Jimmy is willing to take you on. His omega died ten years ago, and it’s taken him a while to feel ready for another mate, but now he is and I’ve assured him you’d be a manageable one."
“Manageable?” I choked out, more affronted than I’d been in years. “Manageable?”
“He also has grown children already, so if you’re barren because of your advanced age, I doubt it will cause too many issues.”
“People have babies at thirty-two all the time. Not that I will be having babies with him. I’m not mating him—”
“If you want Asher to go to that ridiculous art school, you will settle down and mate an alpha, Margot.”
Shit.
Dad had me there and he knew it.
Before I could propose getting that in writing, the door at the top of the stairs opened, Asher and Chelsea’s voices filling the stairwell as they bickered about who knows what.
“You will arrive together at Nana’s 90th and announce your intention to go into your nest together there. The whole village will be there, and it will be an excellent distraction from Calum’s absence.”
“Ready,” Asher said, stumbling into the wall as Chelsea elbowed him in the ribs, stomping past with her nose in the air. They were best friends and worst enemies, those two.
“Don’t embarrass us again, Margot.” And with those delightful parting words, my dad was gone.
There was no outfit that transitioned seamlessly from daytime funeral to eighteenth birthday party, I thought to myself, quickly stripping off my black sheath dress. Not that I had to get super dressed up for tonight, but I was going to help my friend Violet out with her hosting duties. The birthday girl was her little sister, who I barely knew.
I wasn’t exactly in the mood for a party after Calum’s rushed and uncomfortable burial, but I promised Violet I’d help. Of all the friends I had, Violet asked the least of me and was more than generous with her time. I couldn’t disappoint her. Like me, she was the oldest sister, and having mated into money, she was always the default party host.
She’d never expect me to show up if she knew about Calum, which is why I hadn’t said anything. I didn’t want to put her out.
I put on my dressiest jeans, a slinky black top that I could still comfortably move around in and some sandals, adding enough makeup to look like I was making an effort but not so much that I couldn’t get to work without worrying about turning into a shiny mess. On the way out the door, I grabbed a cardigan, since the unpredictable spring weather had swung from blistering hot afternoon to chilly evening, and made the familiar five-minute walk to Violet’s home as the sun was setting.
“There you are!” Violet said, pulling the door open before I could even make it up the path. “I’m so glad you’re here, I’m frantic.”
“I’m so sorry, I should have come earlier—”
“No, no, I’m grateful you’re helping at all. I thought Nico was going to be here to give me a hand, but his best friend booked a ticket home, and Nico’s gone to pick him up from the airport.” Violet blew a curly strand of red hair off her face, her freckled cheeks pink and usually spotless chequered apron covered in an assortment of mystery stains. “Apparently, he’s had this trip planned for a while, but conveniently forgot to mention it to us until this morning. He’s staying here as well—it was lucky the studio is empty at the moment,” she grumbled, though she didn’t actually sound that upset.
Violetlovedto host. It was one of the few hobbies we didn’t share. Attending a party was one thing, organising one was an entirely different beast.
“This is the photographer best friend?” I asked, slipping off my cardigan and purse, my eyes drifting over the collection of poster-sized framed photos that formed a gallery down the hallway, from the front door to the kitchen. I’d never met Kit Iyer—the in-demand, always-on-the-road travel photographer who specialised in incredible landscapes—but I’d been admiring his work every time I’d visited this house for the past two years, ever since Violet and I had met at our local yoga class after I’d moved to this part of the city.
“Kit, yeah. He hasn’t been home for a couple of years now, and he’s going to stay with us for a whole month. Nico is so excited.”
“Is he really?” I teased. Nico was as stoic as they came.
