Page 19 of Omega's Faith

Now it looks like a Disney movie threw up on it.

There are artificial trees towering between the real ones, their too-perfect leaves catching morning light. Thousands of flowers create rivers of color across the grass. And in the center of this botanical nightmare, someone's constructed what appears to be the world's most elaborate picnic.

"What the fuck," I mutter.

"Engagement photos remember," Ricky says beside me.

I groan. Of course, that’s what I was drinking to forget last night.

He's got his tablet out, scrolling through today's schedule of torture. "Diana wanted 'romantic woodland fantasy.'"

"Diana wants a lot of things."

I start walking toward the insanity. There are catering tents, three wardrobe trailers, one with my name on it, equipment trucks disgorging lights and cameras and God knows what else. At least forty crew members are scurrying around like ants.

All for some photos of me and some snotty little omegapretending we like each other.

My footsteps crunch on the gravel path, too loud in my skull. I should be impressed at Diana and Ricky’s ability to pull this together so fast. That nightmare of an introduction dinner was only last night.

That was the other thing I needed whiskey to forget. I’d tried so hard to ignore him but it was impossible.

Jonah’s thigh under my fingers. The way his breath caught. That sweet omega scent spiking so sweet I wanted to lean across the table and—

I couldn’t help it. He reacts when I touch him. I know I’m being a dick but at least I’m entertained.

"You're up late," Diana materializes from behind a wall of roses, immaculate in cream linen. "Makeup needed you twenty minutes ago."

"Good morning to you too."

She eyes my rumpled appearance with distaste. "Did you sleep in those clothes?"

"No." Yes. Passed out in them is more accurate, but she doesn't need the details.

"Well, you look homeless. Again." She snaps her fingers at someone behind her. "Wardrobe!"

I let myself be herded toward the trailer, still processing the circus on my lawn. This is what my life has become. Performance art for the masses.

"The Wells family should arrive within ten minutes," Diana says, matching my pace. "Do try to look less like you're attending your own funeral."

"Wouldn't want to disappoint the in-laws."

She stops, grabbing my arm with surprising strength. "This matters, Alexander. Your mother would have—"

"Would have what?" I cut her off. “Wanted a circus for my wedding? I don’t think so.”

Her lips thin. "The board is watching. The stock price has already climbed three points on news of your engagement. A successful marriage—"

"Successful performance, you mean."

"Same thing, in your case." She releases me, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her sleeve. "That omega is your chance at redemption. Don't waste it."

Redemption. As if the uptight passive-aggressive Jonah Wells is some sort of holy water to wash away my sins. The thought makes me want another drink.

People descend like vultures the moment that I enter the trailer. I’m pushed into a chair in front of a mirror. Someone strips off my wrinkled shirt while someone else attacks my hair. I submit to the grooming as politely as I can manage.

On the mirror in front of me, I see a stack of post it notes with what I assume is the official ‘aesthetic’ for the shoot.

Casual elegance.