Toni snorted. “He needs his butt whooped.”
Isadora turned to face her sister. She looked unconscious, but somehow managed to keep talking. “Antoinette, you worry about you and I’ll worry about Lucian. Go to sleep.”
“He’s not as cool as he thinks he is,” she informed, getting in the final word before falling into a rhythm of softly cooed snores.
Sleep wasn’t as easy for Isadora. Her mind continued to wander and worry—a well-practiced habit of hers, which came with little rest.
Lucian’s college career was right around the corner, something she never personally experienced. Her brother, however, was enrolled to leave in six weeks. The three of them living in this house together had been a consistency they took for granted and she feared Toni didn’t quite understand the finality of their brother going away.
Although he was still young, Isadora’s gut told her once he left he’d never come back. Lucian had always been a forward moving force and going backward was against his nature.
Despite her sister’s snoring, Isadora whispered, “You should try not to fight with him. Soon he won’t be here and then who will you pick on?”
When Lucian’s college search began, they all had questions that needed answering. Lucian’s revolved around where his friend Slade Bishop was applying. Isadora’s were mostly concerned with their father’s promise to pay the tuition and any additional costs. Toni, although the youngest, always asked the most difficult questions.
“Isa, how come you didn’t go to college?” Toni wondered aloud just the other morning, casually depositing the sensitive topic into an unassuming moment of bran flakes.
Isadora had not consumed enough coffee for tough questions and, as Toni dribbled a good bit of milk down the collar of her nightgown, Isadora bought some time by passing her a napkin. “If I went away to school who would take care of you?”
Toni shrugged. “Daddy would send people.”
As replaceable as a stranger.
Her sister was too young to understand how offensive her quick solution sounded. The irony was that Toni automatically excused their father from the job. Assuming—if in a pinch—their father would find yet another au pair. Even their little sister was wise enough to know the man was not a suitable parent—under any circumstances, including the emergency sort.
“What’s so special about college anyway? I’m not going,” her sister had announced with all the finality and assuredness a naïve ten-year-old could muster.
“Some people never get to go to college, Toni. Either they can’t afford the time or they can’t afford the tuition. You should be grateful you have such opportunities ahead. There was once a time when women weren’t even allowed to read. Some places in the world are still like that.”
She hoped her sister would take advantage of the few benefits that came from being Christos Patras’s offspring. While Lucian already possessed an obstinate knowledge of the world, the female family members always seemed less…essential or significant. She was determined to make sure Toni got every opportunity their father provided his only son—even if Christos put little consideration into what his daughters might someday become.
She smirked, a strange and comforting thought coming to her. Soon it would just be the two of them living in the house. Two sisters. No boy stuff dumped in corners of rooms. No sports gear or sweat stains on the furniture. Just the Patras females holding down the fort.
As much as their emancipation from the overbearing Patras men scared her, it also pleased her. In some strange way, she found the idea empowering. Her brother’s approaching absence was triggering her own liberation. She couldn’t help anticipating the disappearance of his overwhelming sense of authority—which was debatable authority anyway.
Isadora was older, yet she deferred to Lucian in many instances because he possessed the inarguable confidence of every other Patras man. Despite his lack of years and experience, he somehow used stature and arrogance to make up for any shortcomings. Plus, he was a control freak who always assumed his opinion was the one that mattered most.
She loved her brother very much, but he owned every room he entered, leaving little air for others to breathe. He was a prince born to be a king, determined to not just fulfill his birthright, but also annihilate any obstacles in his way.
Sometimes, while the kings of the world moved about, shifting obstacles this way and that, the smaller people sacrificed as much as pawns. She’d always been a pawn, maneuvered to serve others’ needs.
But sometimes pawns managed to push past the ranks, patiently traveling one tiny square at a time. And if they made it to the other end of the board unmolested, they were promoted to queen.
With the king preoccupied by other endeavors, she might finally be able to make some advances of her own.
Chapter Two
“From the nest they must fall.”
~Isadora Patras
In the weeks leading up to Lucian’s departure, Isadora savored any moment her brother graced their home with his presence, though such instances were few and far between. She chose her battles carefully. No longer waiting up in the kitchen at night, but rather, worrying from her bed and only resting once the shuffle of his footsteps echoed through the house, announcing he’d returned home safe and sound.
Soon enough he’d be on his own and she didn’t want to be an enemy he left behind. But she loved him and that meant worrying about him and suffering silently.
He was changing and that was changing her, too. It had always been the three of them and every day that passed he amputated more of his part of the puzzle from their whole.
Dominant men, like her father, could not be told what to do. Lucian was no different and she sympathized with any woman who dared to love him in the future. The impenetrable armor he’d donned since becoming an adult hid every tender part of him from the outside world—including her and Toni. Though she would miss him when he left, there was nothing quite as excruciating as missing someone living in the same home.
He seemed oblivious to how his emotional withdrawal affected her. She missed her little brother, even though he was still living there. Perhaps this was some cruel trick the universe played to make it easier to push birds from the nest when it was time for them to fly on their own. Her wings had been clipped the day her father left and she feared she’d eventually be left all alone in an empty nest, too afraid to fly after her own dreams—whatever they might be. Today was Lucian’s day to fly away.
As Lucian gave Shamus Callahan a brief hug goodbye, her mind touched on other goodbyes and lingered around fading memories of their mother.
Their parents should have been standing there for this moment in their son’s life. Their mother always took such pride in her children’s milestones. Isadora had grieved such a defining loss long ago, but moments like this, moments when one of them shined, always seemed to prick at the fraying threads that mended the gaping hole in her heart where her mother used to live.
When her brother’s dark stare met hers, Isadora pasted on a brave smile. “You have everything?”
Those flat, onyx eyes rolled as he held out his arms, engulfing her with too much strength for a man his age. “Yes, Isa,” he mumbled, his deep voice full of dry tolerance.
She savored the momentary truce between them, hoping this was the end of their recent scrimmage for the upper hand and they could once again occupy an even playing field.
Taking advantage of the hug, she squeezed him tight. “Make sure you eat and don’t forget to get your books before they sell out.”
He let go and she fought the urge to pull him back and pamper him with a hundred more maternal suggestions. He was leaving, yet she couldn’t seem to picture him gone.
Since their father left and their mother’s presence had faded, Isadora had taken her brother’s nearness for granted. She’d once considered running away, shortly after their mother’s funeral. She’d stood at the front door with a bag in her hand and the provocation to leave burnin
g the hole in her heart a bit deeper than it already was.
As the knob turned in her hand Lucian’s little voice broke the silence. “Where are you going, Isa? You’re not leaving too, are you?”
She’d paused, incapable of explaining to a boy of ten how a father could be so selfish as to abandon his children only weeks after burying their mother. Maybe part of him believed their dad would come back a changed man. But Isadora knew the truth. She knew his absence would steal every opportunity that was her due.
“You’ll be fine.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. She was not a replacement for their mother, any more than a nanny.
His little brow pinched as his dark eyes—too big for his face—shimmered up at her. “But we have to stay together—the three of us. We’re a family. Remember?”
She’d stared into his sad, young eyes, realizing his fear was a thousand times bigger than hers. It was then she understood she couldn’t take the easy way out. She could never act like their father and turn her back on those she loved.
And Lucian wasn’t running away now. He was moving on and she was both happy and heartbroken.
Part of her harbored a great deal of envy for the experience he was about to embark on. She’d been ordered to sit at the grownup table when her feet could hardly reach the floor, never being offered the chance to run away to college. She couldn’t reach her future when her father’s neglect sealed her to her past.
Years spent trying to make their broken family whole had certainly come at a cost, but she refused to regret what she’d forfeited. Every sacrifice had been her choice. And the reward was watching her little brother go forward in his life—no matter how much it hurt to see him leave.
Unlike the little boy who stopped her at the door, she wouldn’t stop him now. She was a grown woman and understood goodbyes were a part of life.
She swallowed back any sense of injustice and embraced the positive. Lucian’s progress was a reflection of her sacrifices and she was proud of him. Proud of all of them.
He bent to Toni’s height and gave her ponytail a firm yank. “You be good, brat.”
Their sister threw her arms around his shoulders and he lifted her like a ragdoll, squeezing her tight.
“Bring me back something cool,” Toni instructed.
Lucian lowered her feet to the ground and nodded. “You got it.”
Carrying the last of his bags to the idling SUV, he turned and gave them one final nod. A sharp pinch stabbed in her chest as she watched the door to the SUV close. Trying to see his face through the tinted glass was useless.
As the car pulled away she focused on holding all of her confused emotions inside so as not to upset her sister or make a blubbering mess of herself in front of Shamus.
Toni’s fingers gripped her hand tightly as the childlike sound of her sniffles competed with the crunching gravel. The shock of her sister’s upset was enough to stifle Isadora’s own tears.
Forcing a smile, she faced Shamus, who held Toni’s other hand. Lucian’s friend forced a smile, as though every little sniffle from Toni’s nose was cutting right into his sensitive heart.
“You’re upsetting Shamus,” Isadora teased and Toni gaped at Lucian’s friend, her big brown eyes glassy and too large for her little face.
Glancing at Toni, his brow creased, his mouth twisting with mock skepticism. “You better cry like this when I leave next year, brat.”
“You’re only going to school down the road. It won’t be the same. Lucian’s going to be all the way in the city.” But Toni’s grip noticeably tightened.
Isadora smiled at the sweet way her sister and Shamus always teased each other. Their special bond filled moments like this with light banter rather than sorrow.
Pretending to be affronted, Shamus scoffed. “Well … maybe I’ll transfer. Luche is stealing all the attention and the last thing he needs is a bigger ego.”
That penetrated her sister’s false indifference. “Don’t you dare!”
Shamus laughed and nudged her shoulder. “I’d never.” He gave her a playful wink. “You know what today feels like?”
Toni hung on his every word. “What?”
“Ice cream. How about we take a ride into the city? You and Isa put on fancy clothes and we’ll make dinner reservations at your dad’s hotel, but we’ll only order off the dessert menu.”
The pinch surrounding Isadora’s heart eased as Toni’s eyes cleared, her cheeks stretching into a wide grin. “What about supper?”
Shamus lovingly knocked a knuckle against her upturned chin. “Some situations call for special exceptions. What do you say we go break the rules of good social conduct?”
“Isa, can we?” Toni bounced with enthusiastic impatience.
“Why don’t you and Shamus go? Have fun. I think I’m going to rest.”
“You’re never any fun, Isa.”
“Hush, brat. Your sister’s entitled to some time to herself.”
Isadora smiled at Shamus, appreciating his help. “Thank you, Jamie.”
He nodded. “Come on, Antoinette. Let’s go make reservations.”
Staring out at the vacant drive, Isadora sighed as Shamus escorted Toni inside the house.
“How come Lucian and Isa call you Jamie sometimes?” her sister’s raspy voice asked as they climbed the porch steps.
“Because that’s my name. Shamus is Irish, but the English version is Jamie or James.”
“I like Shamus,” she told him.
“And I prefer Antoinette to Toni.”
When the house was quiet and Isadora was truly alone, her momentary ease faded. She wandered the silent halls questioning how everything still appeared the same, yet felt so different.
She ended up in her father’s study, the cold ambiance a gentle mocking of the hollowness she felt on the inside. The problem with formidable men, she decided, was when they left there seemed a whole lot of emptiness in their absence.
Twenty-three years old, suffering empty nest syndrome for a son that wasn’t her own, and trapped in a life she never intended to lead—her master plan never had time to truly formulate.
When she’d thought of running away eight years ago, she’d only been a confused little girl chasing a deep yearning for any sense of home. This was her home. It was all she’d ever known, but the desire for more still lingered. The yearning to feel loved and needed—necessary—was perhaps her strongest driving force and what had made her stay rather than go all those years ago.
Easing forward in her father’s chair, she pulled open the top drawer of his desk. The heavy wood gave way and—predictably—an aged bottle of Macallan rolled to the front. She lifted the scotch, cradling it in her lap, and brushed her thumb over the label, never quite able to tell if it was brown or red. Her color blindness was just another one of her characteristics her father ignored, because when certain handicaps could not be resolved with money, he refused to acknowledge their existence.
Turning the bottle, she examined the faded words. She’d held it a hundred times but never took a sip, always worrying—or perhaps hoping—her father would eventually return and want to know who drank his aged scotch.
The ornate cork pulled free with little force, interrupting the silence with a soft pop. While she resented her father’s neglect for her siblings’ sake, she never said much on the subject. Toni was the most indifferent to his absence. But Lucian, who recalled his cruelty well and knew exactly what sort of cold-hearted person could jettison three young children… Lucian digested their father’s abandonment like bitter poison, the sort that left a lingering aftertaste that could only fade once the venom was exorcised.
Toni forgot. Isadora compartmentalized. But Lucian remembered every cruel instance, and those bitter, flammable memories fueled so much of his unyielding drive for success. All of them, including their mother, had been affected by Christos’s toxicity.
Her brother intended to even the score, had vowed to do so since he was old enough to process the abnormalities of t
heir family life. Once he finished college, she had no doubt he’d seek the vengeance he’d always wanted. Maybe then he could find the closure they all desired.
Sitting in the shadows, she raised the aged scotch. “Good luck, Daddy. He won’t stop until he’s beaten you.”
She drew from the mouth of the bottle, forcing back a gasp as the fiery liquid scalded her throat. Taking a long, healthy swallow of air, she laughed in the darkness.
“How does he drink this stuff?”
Perhaps she’d become a rich lush, like so many older females in similar situations after their children left, their purpose obscured by years of subservience and little chance left to forge their own identities. The thought stung and a misplaced laugh slipped from her lips.
She wasn’t old. She was the age of any college graduate, minus several rites of passage and the luxury of a degree. But she had other luxuries and complaining only made her feel like a spoiled ingrate.
“Don’t be a pathetic martyr.” She slouched in the large leather desk chair. “One day you’ll matter as much as the rest of them.”
“Isadora?”
Her shoulders knotted with a spike of surprise. Her eyes widened, but no one was there. “Hello?” How strong is this scotch?
“Where are you?” the masculine voice called from the hall.
She dropped her hands beneath the surface of the desk, hiding the bottle in her lap. Her face heated, as she feared someone might have overheard her talking to herself like a first class lunatic.
Clearing her throat, she calmly answered, “I’m in the study.”
The door creaked as Sawyer Bishop, her father’s colleague and long-time family friend, gazed into the room. His eyes rested on her for only a moment, before searching the shadows.
“Are you alone? I thought I heard you talking to someone.”
Her face flushed with another flood of heat as she reached for the small accent lamp poised on the corner of the desk. A dull amber glow revealed dust over the unused surface.
“No, it’s just me. Antoinette went to the hotel for dinner with Shamus Callahan.”
Sacrifice of the Pawn: Spin-Off of the Surrender Trilogy (Surrender Games Book 1) Page 2
