“It’s not funny,” Zeller insisted, tossing a tennis ball at his brother. “It’s a good thing Antoni rescued me. Who knows what other stupidrulesthat idiot wanted to enlighten me on. Perhaps he requires a foot rub at night. Or daily sheet-changing for all hisextracurriculars.”
From where he lay sprawled in the reading chair, Asher laughed. “Well, you survived. And I’ll talk to Father and Daddy to make sure they understand Heprah is not a contender.”
Zeller scoffed. “I don’t think Father cares if my husband wants a more traditional marriage. Not if making the alliance is good business.”
“Maybe not. But he will care that Heprah has no manners. He wouldn’t risk the family by bringing someone so boorish into it.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Not wanting to dwell on the party, Zeller focused his attention on the easel in front of him.
“How do you come up with your ideas?” Asher asked. “Don’t tell me you’re inspired by all the shitty landscapes in this mausoleum?”
“Hardly,” Zeller chuffed.
Conversing with Asher made him realize how much lonelier he’d been since his brother moved out last year. Asher was the closest thing Zeller had to a friend, and the only person who cared about his art.
“I’m mostly inspired by books,” Zeller said. “And my imagination. I think my work is so colorful because it’s the only place I’m allowed to really express myself.”
Asher motioned to the purple-and-green striped walls and floral bedspread. “At least Father and Daddy let you keep your room how you want it. Even if it sucks that they don’t put up your paintings.” He pointed at the stacks of canvases taking up one wall of the suite-style bedroom and asked, “Do you mind if I take another for my apartment?”
“Be my guest. I like knowing someone can enjoy them. Since I’m barricaded in this prison.”
Asher let out a sigh. “It’s not a prison. It’s a grand estate where you have servants at your beck and call.”
“Easy for you to say. You got to move out and go to college. I’m stuck here until Father figures out the most beneficial way to marry me off.”
Asher studied him with concern. “I know they’ve been introducing you to more people lately, but are they really talking about marriage?”
“Only in the abstract. But ever since my birthday, I’m sensing a ticking clock.”
Zeller had been largely confined to the estate for his entire life, other than occasional trips to town for restaurants orshopping, or events where his parents were expected to bring their children.
Asher and their older alpha brother, Jem, had gone to private school while Zeller was homeschooled by a tutor. His brothers had been permitted to play baseball and basketball, but Father didn’t believe in team sports for omegas. Jem and Asher had friends and experiences. Zeller had books, art, and the internet.
But the biggest difference between them was that Zeller would only leave their fathers’ home upon marriage or his twenty-fifth birthday, the earliest age single omegas could emancipate themselves.
Asher lobbed the ball against the wall and caught it. “Baby brother, I’ll grant that you have it the worst, but you realize our parents put their bullshit expectations on me and Jem, too? We all carry the weight of beingParkensons.” He frowned. “I got to go to college and move out, but Father forced me to major in business.”
Zeller smirked. “That’s because he thinks only betas have good heads for numbers.”
“Right. You know how he is. Totally bought into the stereotypes.” He threw the ball again. “If he saw my statistics grade, he’d probably have a heart attack.”
“That bad?”
“Meh. I’ll pass.”
Zeller admired his brother’s laid-back attitude, even if he didn’t wholly condone his lack of spirit. “What would you prefer to study?” he asked.
“Something less cut and dry, like history or literature, or maybe not attend college at all.” He shrugged. “Sometimes I think I’d rather work with my hands, like in construction.”
“If you really feel that way,” Zeller spoke carefully, “you’re a beta. You don’t have to do what Father says.”
“I know. But it’s easier not to argue. Besides, being forced to crunch numbers is better than what happened to Jem.”
They shared a moment of silent communication. Jem had recently married the omega son of one of Father’s business associates after their parents insisted on the match. He’d been miserable ever since.
Zeller considered Asher, who would drill a hole in the bedroom wall with a tennis ball rather than risk upsetting Father by asking for what he wanted.