He set his teeth and took a few aggressive steps toward me, cracking his knuckles the whole way. He slid his hand into the pocket of his robe, and it reemerged with a set of brass knuckles across his fingers.
“Who the fuck keeps a pair of those in their dressing robe?” I asked and started crunching away.
“I do, you pain-in-the-ass prodigal son who never gave a shit about this family until it suited you. I do.”
I stopped chewing. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
“No,” Petre said, all fiery as the scotch kicked in. At his worst, he was dangerous. But like this, he was nothing but sloppy and reckless. And I knew I could use that to my advantage too. “I run this business. I’ve been working with father for the ten years you’ve been gone. So if you think you can stumble in whenever you fucking want and take over just because you suddenly decide you want to screw my soon-to-be wife, you’re fucking dreaming. Fucking dreaming. The royal title is going to be mine. It’s what the family and father has wanted for decades and I’m the one who’s going to get it for us.”
He drew his fist up, like he was gunning to hit me.
I eyed his fist and then met his gaze.
“I said: Watch. Your. Fucking. Mouth.”
He swung at me, faster than I expected. But he’d always been an awkward fighter, even before the whole thing with his knee and that limp, and I had plenty of time to bend left. In response, I seized his throat and shoved him hard up against the mahogany walls.
“Get him!” Petre barked at his hired hounds.
But none of them, not a single one, raised a finger.
“You dipshits!” he said, his voice now weaker because of the force of my hand. “Get him!”
With annoyed sighs, five of them rose to their feet and made a semi-circle around us but none of them laid a hand on me. The memory of the night before fresh in their vodka soaked minds.
My laugh came from low down in my throat, a smug motherfucker kind of laugh that I couldn’t have faked even if I’d wanted to. Just a simple tightening of my hand would’ve cut off the blood flow to his brain; he could be dead in seconds. The fear in his eyes told me he knew that as well as I did.
“They don’t give a fuck what happens to you, little brother. I’ll bet they’d be the first to string you up by the balls.”
With my other hand, I pulled the brass knuckles off of his fingers and slid them into my pocket. And then, with that same hand I landed a solid gut-punch that doubled him over into a gurgling mess, and then turned to go, letting him fall to the floor.
Petre, for once in his insufferable life, was lost for words. I’d shaken him up bad, just as I’d planned. Over my shoulder, I watched him go immediately to refill his scotch without giving me a glance. And as I headed down the hallway toward my father’s wing of the estate, I heard the fucking beautiful sound of the ice cubes in his glass tinkling because of his trembling hand.
Chapter 14
Valeria
The wonderful noise of a crackling fire woke me from a dreamy, cozy sleep. Vasile wasn’t beside me when I opened my eyes, and I didn’t see him anywhere in the room, but even still I sat up in bed with my heart singing.
It was a contentment so complete that I felt it in my bones. Nestling back into the downy pillows, I thought about just how much my life had changed in a mere twenty-four hours. The day before, I’d woken up in my room at boarding school, nauseous with dread.
Now, I was waking up with every muscle in my body gloriously sore, snuggled up in magnificent sheets, with my face slightly tender from Vasile’s stubble. And, I realized, as I rubbed my feet along my calves, my inner thighs were tender for the very same reason.
Goodness gracious. What a night that was.
The thought took me by surprise. Getting Vasile to sleep with me, to ruin his brother’s plans and ruin any chances of me ever getting married? That was the plan. Falling head over heels for the man while doing it?
Absolutely not.
But then, hadn’t he told me that he was nothing like his father or his brother? That he wasn’t a part of their world? I could not abide being with someone that used violence and intimidation of those more vulnerable for their own gain. Never would I and knowing Vasile wasn’t that man, that he’d assured me he would never again be part of his family’s business, only warmed me deep into my bones. Maybe things were going to work out for me after all.
Maybe there was a higher plan in play and I needed to do what Vasile had told me to do.
Trust him.
It had bothered me to use him from the beginning, because I felt things for him that I hadn’t ever felt for another person in my life.
What happened the night before between us went far beyond the physical. I felt that, and I believed he did too. It surprised me to care about him so much so fast, but as my mother always told me, you can’t help what you feel.
I didn’t want him hurt or damaged by my actions, and I didn’t want him to be in the position for taking the blame for something about which I had no shame whatsoever.
It was a mess I felt too inexperienced to sort out on my own. I needed to talk to him. But first, I needed to figure out where he’d gone.
Though I had fleeting visions of breakfast in bed, I cast those away with a tsk at myself. He had far more important things to do than make me fresh orange juice from those luscious oranges in the orangery. I was sure of that. But regardless, I needed to find him. I wanted to be near him. So badly that it made my heart ache.
Pulling the sheets off my body, I slid my legs off the thick, plush mattress and placed them on the chilly stone floor. My nightdress was in ruins, so I gathered up the coverlet like a cloak and headed for the door.
Half of me expected Vasile to burst through the door and tell me to get back into bed, his cock ready for another round, and more than half of me hoped that would happen. But I was disappointed. Instead, I cracked the door open and peered out just in time to hear voices.
Voices I didn’t recognize.
“...this is my house! You damned, impudent little—”
“This is not your house anymore Barrington.”
“It’s Lord Barrington. Lord. That puts me about a hundred rungs further up the social ladder than you, stable boy.”
“I’m not just a stable boy any longer. I’m far more—”
“Out of my way. I’m taking back what’s mine.”
Sudden footsteps moving closer made me duck back inside the room. The last thing I needed was to be caught half naked wandering around a strange house by strange men.
Where the bloody hell was Vasile, and who actually owned this house? Was I an intruder?
The purple banners I’d noted the night before came back to me. This house seemed to belong to someone of nobility or royalty, and Vasile was neither.
One of the men’s voices echoed in the hall. “No, you will not go in there. I’m under strict instructions to—”
“Where is he? Is he here? He swindled me out of my property and I’ve come to settle this once and for all.”
“He’ll be back soon and—”
The footsteps drew closer to the door and I glanced around, wishing Vasile was here. Wishing at least somebody I recognized was here.
Past the fireplace, there was a tall wardrobe that looked easily big enough for me to squeeze into, and I darted that way.
As I spun, I stumbled into the mantel piece and a few trinkets fell with a crash, and a piece of paper floated down into the fire, instantly starting to crinkle on the edges as the flames licked at it.
“What was that noise, boy? Who’s in there?”
“Nobody, Lord Barrington, I assure you. We’ve had some problems with mice—”
The door clicked open and somebody stepped inside. I watched them through the tiny gap between the doors of the wardrobe. There was a man dressed in overly opulent finery, like he was trying to show off, and another that was dressed plainly but had a much kinder face.
“See, my lo
rd, nothing at all,” the kinder looking one said.
“Then why, pray tell, is there a fire burning in the grate? Hmmm?”
“I was asked to warm the room.”
“Someone was here. The bed is a mess.” I watched as he looked around with narrow eyes and I held my breath.
“You don’t own anything here. You lost the manor to Mr. Greengallow. You know that to be true and all its contents—”
“Nonsense. I may have lost my house to him, but I never included its contents.”
The kinder looking one let out an exasperated huff. “Please leave, or I’ll be forced to—”
“Forced to what, boy? Usher me out? Look at you, you’re nothing.”
“Lord, you should return when Mr. Greengallow is here. His family will not take this sort of disrespect lightly. You are aware of his family…”
The veiled threat seemed to make the man both angry and thoughtful at the same time. After a long pause, he spun back towards the door and stomped from the room.
“I will leave this matter for me to settle with him directly, but I will show Mr. Greengallow I was here,” he bellowed as he disappeared down the hall with the younger man following.
“That’s not the way out!”
“I know the way around my own house. I’m going to leave a clear message for Mr. Greengallow before I go…”
I waited for what felt like two or three hours inside the wardrobe. It could have been more, it could have been less, but I didn’t dare come out. I sat down on the empty floor, surrounded by nothing but wooden walls, and wondered whether any of this house legitimately belonged to Vasile.
After all, what did I really know about him? Maybe this wasn’t his manor after all.
Either way, I decided, there was no point staying in the wardrobe any longer. No matter how long I’d been in there, Vasile had been gone for hours and didn’t seem to care one bit about my welfare.
I was hungry, and I needed to get dressed. Maybe he’d left me for good. All the thoughts I had of both of us feeling what happened meant something more than just physical began to feel like fairy tales.
Slipping from the wardrobe, I padded across the room. The fire was burning low in the fireplace now, and whatever the piece of paper was it was long gone. I put on my nightdress, tying the ripped fabric in the center as best I could, then poked my head out of the door.
“Hello?” I looked up and down the corridor, and stopped to listen, but there was nothing. “Hello? Is anybody there?”
No answer. Nothing. Not a sound.
Setting out with stomach grumbling, I found the kitchens and larder easily. The kitchen and pantry were in utter disarray.
Crocks were broken on the floor, sacks of sugar and flour spilled everywhere. The food that had been there lay in ruins all over the kitchen. Apparently, this was the message Lord Barrington meant to leave for whichever Mr. Greengallow he’d been talking about. Whichever one of them had taken this place from him.
With no palatable food left in the kitchen, I headed for the orangery and made off with an armful of small fruits, and made my way back upstairs. By now, the clouds had spread over the midday winter sun and made the house feel not just darker but also colder.
In the room next door to the one I’d woken in, I found a fireplace stocked with logs, as well as a box of matches. I built the fire back up in my room and snuggled onto the chaise longue, wrapping myself in a soft afghan. It had been so long since I had experienced such luxuries that I felt almost guilty here, in this beautiful place, so snug and warm.
But the longer I sat and considered the flames, the more the complexity of my situation weighed on me. I hadn’t stopped thinking about Vasile, not even for a moment.
I knew he was something special. He took a huge risk to protect me, without even knowing me. The smallest gestures he’d made for me—putting on my socks and shoes, leaving a lit fire, even locking me in my room last night—were all such effortless displays of the fact that he did care, no matter how rough and tumble he might seem. And yet, I had to consider his family.
God, his awful family.
Though he was made of something much better than his brother, that Greengallow name still hung over him like a dark cloud. He was tainted. Men like that never lived long and I knew it; if I were to attach myself to him, I probably wouldn’t last long either.
And worse still was the gambling. That vicious, insidious, life-upending vice. Thinking of the disaster Lord Barrington left in the kitchen, surely this was all over some debt, gambling or otherwise, and it all just felt so unsafe and unsteady.
I glanced at the clock on the mantel, but it was long-since stopped; it probably hadn’t been wound in months, making me wonder yet again if Vasile truly owned this property.
I knew this feeling all too well—of being left behind at home as the minutes ticked past. It had been just the same with my father; when he was with us, we were the center of his world. But once he was out on his own with a stack of chips in front of him, nothing else in the world mattered.
And that was not a life I could endure, no matter how I felt about Vasile.
My thoughts drifted to my father. My mother. Soon they would come to collect me and discover I was not at school.
I took a segment of orange and savored it on my tongue, as I watched the flames dance before me. I had to find a way to push my feelings aside. Somehow. Some way.
Chapter 15
Vasile
As I crossed the courtyard to my parents’ quarter of the estate, the curtains on one of the second-floor windows parted, and my mother’s nurse wheeled her to the glass.
Though it had been just a day since I had seen her last, it made my fucking heart sink to see her looking even weaker and frailer. And yet, her smile was just as beautiful as ever.
She waved to me, beaming. I gave her an exaggerated bow, smiling back up at her in return as another of her attendants pushed open the window.
“Come and see me.” Her voice was soft and I had to strain to hear.
“I have some business with father. I will try to come to you after. You are looking as ravishing as ever. Younger every day, mother.”
“You were always the best liar.” She fluttered her hand in a dismissive wave. “You men, always doing your business. Go on. He’s so proud of you. So pleased to have you back here with us. I pray every night you will stay.”
I smiled, “You never know, mother. But, it’s freezing, you should not be breathing this cold air.”
“What does it matter? Fresh air, cold or not, is better than being stuck inside for the rest of my days.”
“Take care of her.” I eyed her nurse, who nodded, leaning down to whisper in my mother’s ear.
She shook her head and frowned, but blew me a kiss and I returned it.
“I will see you soon, mother.”
And then her nurse wheeled her away, the attendant closing the window and letting the lace curtain fall back in place.
The stables had been built in one corner of the courtyard, as a defense against attackers in the days when the Greengallow family were as likely to be at literal war with their enemies as they were to beat them at cards or threaten their business for protection money.
The grooms knew me well enough not to stand on ceremony.
I was a lot of things, but a spoiled son of a bitch most definitely wasn’t one of them. As I usually did, I waved over the old stable-master and took a few moments to ask him how things were with his family. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to let them know that they weren’t forgotten, and in turn I knew that led to my own mare being treated with the kind of care and kindness I’d treat her with myself.
Once I’d checked on my Vela, I crossed past the old stone lions that my mother had bought when I was a barely ten years old. Snow covered, as usual, and with a chip in the ear of one from when Petre and I had been in one of our many rows and he’d thrown a rock. Missing me, but hitting the lion.
Being here always gav
e me the same mix of complicated fucking emotions. I’d grown to deeply dislike and disagree with our family business. But my childhood had been happy enough, I thought, until my mother got sick.
Once that happened, everything changed, including my brother. But the business had been lucrative enough to give my mother the best care, the best nursing, and the most comfortable life possible. Life in the Greengallow family was bittersweet, no matter how you cut it.
Walking into the main foyer, with its dark oak walls and rows of hunting trophies, I still felt like more of a visitor than someone who actually belonged. My brother had called me the prodigal son, and that was true enough.
A decade ago, my dad had given me the choice of joining him in business, or setting out on my own. I’d decided to do my own thing, and headed east to work with my mom’s brothers in importing gold and silver as well as running their own mines. It had been good, honest work and we raked in the money.
Now, though, I was back. I hadn’t known how long I planned to stay when I returned. My dad had been making noises about me joining the family business for a long time, but I’d always said no. I wanted to remain in our own country, but still had business interests back east.
But that was before I laid eyes on Valeria…and before my entire goddamned life changed, thanks to her.
Now that I had her, I wasn’t going to let her go. No matter what Petre said or did, she was mine. If that destroyed our family, if it made sworn enemies of my brother and I, then so fucking be it. Except, I knew it would also destroy my mother, and that was something I would try to avoid at all costs.
I knew one thing for certain, if I wanted to find any resolution that didn’t destroy our family, I’d be better off with my father on my side.
“Is that you, my boy?” my father called out, coming out from his office, looking hopeful, like a big old bear emerging from hibernation.
“Hello, father,” I said, extending my hand for him to shake.
Wild Heir (Fated Royals Book 4) Page 10
