Sean: Quintessence The Sequel: Part IV

by Akeroyd, Serena

  “Vasily’s already on it. He’s been having us watched for a while,” Andrei confessed. “I called him last night, and even he was shocked about Jane.”

  “How did she slip through the net?” Sean questioned, shaking his head as he pushed away the toast that had been staring at him for the past ten minutes. “I don’t get it.”

  “I hired her from an agency. They’re supposed to run checks, but checks are only good for so much. The woman hadn’t been caught so she wouldn’t have a record, would she?”

  Sawyer sighed. “So, there’s no avoiding that. Jane wanted into our household, and there was no way of preventing it. If she had an arrest record, then it would have flashed up and been a marker. But it didn’t. There was no red alert, Sean. How do we prevent anything like this from happening again?”

  “Stop living like we’re back in the campus house in Oxford,” Andrei rasped. “We’ve been irresponsible.”

  “Aye, that we have, but that’s nae exactly proactive,” Sawyer chided, and Sean admitted he was stunned by how rationally his brother was taking this.

  Sawyer had a redhead’s natural temper, but it hadn’t been detonated by their conversation and Sean wasn’t exactly sure why.

  “Proactive?” Andrei sneered. “Unless we live like Devon, we’re never going to be completely safe. We’re here in Veronia, for fuck’s sake. There was civil unrest until recently, and our plans for the economy aren’t going to be popular—”

  “Aye, and I’m certain our security will be assured here. We need to get Vasily’s recommendation and to get our own head of security. We need bodyguards and shit, and Sascha? She needs a team on her alone, not only because she’s rich as Croesus, even if she still looks like she shops at Primark,” he said with a huff, “but because she’s worth her weight in gold to us.”

  “Platinum.”

  Sawyer cocked a brow at Andrei. “What?”

  “Our katyonok is worth her weight in fucking platinum.” Andrei rubbed his chin. “I want to kill Jane. I want to slice her in half for even—”

  Sean raised a hand. “She’s in custody.”

  He snorted. “You think Vasily couldn’t get to her?”

  “I think he could, and I think you’re your grandfather’s grandson.” Sean cut his brother a look. “I felt the same about Horowich. He murdered our daughter. He hurt Sascha. And Jane is a sick bitch. She’s killed and she’s hurt the innocent, but jungle justice will get her—”

  “With the pansy-ass prison system you Brits have, I doubt that,” Andrei growled.

  Sean narrowed his eyes at him. “So, what? You want to go vigilante on her too?”

  “Am I missing something?” Sawyer demanded, cocking a brow at Sean. “What happened with Horowich? The fucker who Devon beat?”

  Sean, for all the situation was anything but funny, had to stop his lips from twitching. “We handled the situation.”

  “I think I need to know how. Especially if it’s going to blow back on us.”

  Sawyer’s grated out words had Sean shrugging. “Vasily dealt with the threat.”

  “And what are we going to do when Vasily dies?” Sawyer gritted out. “The man won’t live forever, even if he’s trying to.”

  Andrei bit his cheek. “Let’s be grateful he’s still alive and kicking. Maybe by the time we lose him, we’ll have grown the fuck up and won’t need to rely on him for every goddamn thing—”

  “Why are you arguing?”

  The three of them swerved toward the door where Sascha stood, Tin sitting on her hip. Her eyes were red, the skin around them looked chapped, and the way she was clinging to Tin? Well, Sean wouldn’t be surprised if their little boy soon made a mad dash for escape.

  Tin was not a hugger.

  He liked cuddles before bed but that was pretty much it.

  In fact, there was a look of pleading on his face that was literally a ‘save me, papa.’ Sean found himself fighting a laugh.

  Sawyer, being Sawyer, grumbled, “Give the boy to me, lass.”

  Sascha scowled at him. “Tin’s happy here, aren’t you?”

  Tin’s sigh was long-suffering as he slipped his arms around her neck and mumbled, “Da.”

  “Now we know the boy wants saving,” Sawyer retorted, getting to his feet and heading toward the two people who were the center of their world. “You know he only speaks Russian when he wants something.”

  Andrei snickered and blurted something in Russian that had Tin twisting around with a grin. Sascha pouted but handed Tin to Sawyer who immediately turned him upside down, dangling him by his ankles as he walked to the table where there was a booster seat set up for the toddler.

  Tin giggled and squirmed, and each time Sawyer pretended to drop him, Sascha’s lips pinched but Tin squealed with delight.

  Sean stared at her as she studied father and son, then when she saw he was watching, her cheeks flexed and she stepped toward the hand he held out for her.

  When their fingers connected, he swallowed, and it felt as though the chasm he’d felt certain his career and choices had created between them, was a little less wide than it had been this morning.

  She settled beside him at the table and began serving herself some coffee from a silver service that sat at the center of the polished walnut slab.

  As she doctored her coffee, her gaze remained fixed on Tin who, by now, was sitting while Sawyer sorted him out with a bib.

  Andrei buttered toast and cut it into pieces then placed it in front of their son.

  “Dzhem.”

  The command, while in a foreign tongue, was evident. Sascha tutted. “No jam.”

  “Why not?” Tin pouted, and he looked so like his mother that Sean’s heart skipped a beat.

  “Because sugar makes you loopy.”

  Tin giggled at that. “Loopy, loopy, loopy.”

  When Devon and Kurt sidled in a few minutes later, Tin was still repeating the words while the rest of them tried, and succeeded, in remaining patient.

  Kids were, Sean had learned, the most complicated creatures on Earth. They were capable of pushing you past your limits, driving you to do things that you’d never imagined possible. They could bring the best out of you, and the worst, and for all that Tin drove him nuts some days, he couldn’t imagine a world without him in it.

  There were few days that passed where he didn’t stand on one of Tin’s toys and almost break a limb, but the joy Tin brought? Impossible to replicate or to replace.

  Sean jolted when Sascha’s hand squeezed his thigh.

  “He’s safe,” she told him, her voice a rasp.

  “I know he is.” A shaky sigh escaped him. “Things might have been different though.”

  “My life might have been different if I hadn’t decided to become a housekeeper… I wouldn’t be with you. I wouldn’t have Tin. That’s how life works.”

  “You were mad at me last night.”

  “I was reacting,” she stated firmly, her mouth pursing. “I’m not happy, Sean, not about what happened, that we let it happen… I’m scared and terrified and wondering what the fuck she did to my boy—” Said boy began giggling when Devon picked him up and put him on his lap, feeding him tidbits of his own breakfast as he discussed black holes with their two-year-old. “I have to believe that she did nothing because he wouldn’t be like this, would he? If she’d hurt him, our little boy wouldn’t be so fucking happy all the time.”

  “She didn’t hurt him, katyonok. I kept her too busy for that,” Andrei stated bitterly, listening in to their conversation with no shame. “And Tin would have said something. You know he tells us everything.”

  “How would he even know how to describe something like that though?” she whispered, sounding so frail that Sean wanted to strangle Jane again and again.

  “I’m not certain it’s much of a reprieve,” he murmured, “but he was too young. Tin doesn’t fit her profile.”

  A crack sounded then and Sascha released a groan. Coffee splashed everywhere as the bone c
hina was crushed beneath her grip.

  Sean, cursing under his breath, reached for his napkin, then grabbed her hand and pressed the snowy white linen to the cut that was bleeding profusely.

  The white folds turned bright red, and he stared at the fabric, unable to look her in the eye. Unable to even raise his gaze to meet hers because he wasn’t fucking worthy of sharing a glance with her, and that was the goddamn truth of it.

  For the first time in his life, he wasn’t in control of this situation.

  He wasn’t in control of his life.

  And Sean, at that moment, could understand why Devon feared chaos because Sean was staring down into its pit, and he wasn’t sure how to get himself out of it.

  Chapter Four

  “Her Majesty awaits you in the greenhouse.”

  Sascha cocked a brow at ‘Ask Jeeves’ and questioned, “The Queen’s waiting for me in the greenhouse?”

  “With Her Highness Princess Alice,” the butler confirmed. “I believe she wishes to meet Master Tin.”

  For the first time in two days, Sascha found something to be amused about. Master Tin? It sounded so incredibly Dickensian, and yet it fit this place to a T.

  This house, while in the twenty-first century for sure, was somehow in a time warp. One that made it A-Okay to eat on bone china that had been used three centuries ago, and to sleep on beds that had been used by nobility for generations. Of course, Sascha couldn’t make sheets last more than a few years, but these ones seemed to have had ancient Dukes resting their patooties on them for a lifetime, she thought with an eye roll.

  Her grandmother, the only grandparent she’d had, must have been right about the ‘old days.’ They made nothing like they used to.

  Hiding another smile, she dropped her book onto the coffee table and called, “Tin? Would you like to go on a playdate?”

  Tin, his eyes on an interactive sudoku puzzle, scowled at her. “Play?”

  “Yep.”

  He tilted his head to the side, looking so damn regal that she laughed a little—he definitely got that from Andrei and not from her. Whether he was a prince in Bratva royalty or not, Andrei had been raised like a little lordling himself. “Who with?”

  “You remember Perry? From the other day?”

  He made a smacking noise with his lips. “I remember.”

  She snickered. “We’re meeting her little girl.”

  Eyes flashing with interest, he scampered to his feet then dashed to her side and held out his hand in silent demand. She grabbed it, and together they followed Jeeves out into the hall and down an enormous corridor toward a side of the house she’d never even bothered exploring.

  It wasn’t her home, even though they’d been offered free reign of the building that was more like a palace than a grand estate, and she’d been more content with staying close to Tin—

  Okay, that was bullshit.

  She was clinging.

  Clinging to her toddler.

  Pathetic? Perhaps. But it wasn’t every day a goddamn serial child killer penetrated your house, made a move into your life, and targeted you, was it?

  Even if Tin wasn’t old enough to fit Jane’s profile, even if he’d have been safe for another year at least, that wasn’t her idea of safety.

  Mouth pursing with a mixture of anger, outrage, and downright fear, she was grateful for the distraction Perry presented. Truth was, she hadn’t really expected to see the Queen again, but she was glad for it.

  She knew no one was to blame for this situation except Jane, but God, it fucked with her head nonetheless.

  They walked into a suite that was like their family room back home. All soft and squashy couches, lots of toys in a corner, a big TV, and shelves loaded down with a variety of books—some with ancient spines, others that were brand new. A few fat, plenty that were thin. An eclectic mix.

  On an armchair in the corner, Perry was seated, her legs crossed at the ankle as she slouched back into the cushions. Alice, as far as Sascha could tell, was hiding?

  Jeeves clucked his tongue, which had Perry darting upright as she stared over at them. She went from slouching comfortably to sitting with a back straighter than a ruler.

  Sascha cut Jeeves a disapproving look—was that really necessary?

  God, Sascha wasn’t sure she could deal with all the BS that came with being a royal. Having to sit straight, drink coffee with your pinkie finger stuck out, and dealing with boring people as part of the job—nope. She’d prefer to keep house again.

  “Thank you, Rodgers,” Perry murmured, and the guy disappeared with a small bow. Sascha preferred the name Jeeves. With his wispy combover? Rodgers looked like the little illustration on the old school search engine.

  The second the door closed behind him, Perry slouched back and Sascha teased, “Vive la revolution, hmm?”

  Perry’s nose crinkled. “I swear, the protocol is what sucks the most. I can deal with most things, but having to look perfect alllllll the time is just boring as heck.”

  Sascha waved at the sofa opposite her. “It okay if I sit?”

  Perry snorted. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, it’s not every day I’m invited for tea with a Queen.”

  “True.” Perry’s lips twitched. “Let’s just forget about my status while we’re alone, yeah?”

  Sascha shrugged. “Fine by me.”

  “Alice, stop hiding for a second and come and meet our guests.”

  Sascha squeezed Tin’s shoulder and called out to the seemingly empty room, “Alice, this is Valentin and I’m Sascha. We’d both love to meet you.”

  “She’s shy,” Perry whispered.

  “Tin isn’t,” she replied with a laugh. “Don’t worry. It’s impossible to be shy around him.”

  A small face peeked out from behind a curtain, and Sascha smiled at the worried features. The little girl had a short mop of curls on her head, but when she alighted from the curtain, she wasn’t wearing a girly dress, if anything, she was wearing something similar to Tin—blue shorts and a blue sweater. It wasn’t that the outfit was distinctly boyish, but there was something different about it that told Sascha the clothes were for a boy.

  She didn’t say anything, just guided Tin over to Alice and crouched down as she initiated introductions. From the serious smile on her face, as well as the way she’d cupped her hand—fingers down, wrist tilted just so—Sascha sensed there was a regal handshake in the making. Tin, being Tin, just grabbed her hand and cried, “Play!”

  Alice, jolting with surprise, let out a giggle and chased after him. Sascha smiled then moved closer to Perry, looking forward to a chat with a woman who was like her in so many ways, and yet living a life so completely unlike hers.

  “You want coffee?” Perry asked, tilting her head to the side. “Or cake?”

  “Cake,” Sascha admitted. “It’s been one of those weeks.” Then she waved a hand when Perry went to sit up. “I can serve us. Which do you want?”

  “Double serving of cake. Being pregnant, it’s the only time I can put weight on without the press going nuts.”

  That had Sascha scowling. “Well, that sucks.”

  Perry snorted. “Tell me about it. I don’t really mind. I’ve never been skinny, but as the wedding approached I kind of dropped a lot of weight from nerves and after Alice, I reverted back to normal. It made tongues wag.”

  “Tongues always wag,” Sascha grunted, serving them both double slices of a cake that reminded her of a Madeira cake but with frosting. It was huge—stacked four layers high inside and loaded with what could only be buttercream.

  Mouth drooling, she handed Perry the plate and a fork, and then retreated to her seat to gorge.

  “I know why I’m stuffing my face, but what about you? You look like that cake is necessary,” Perry stated softly.

  “It is,” Sascha said with a huff. “More necessary than oxygen, and it’s probably a good thing. That whole weight loss through nerves crap? I’ve just gone through it m
yself.” To the point where her husbands had started spanking her if she ever missed a goddamn meal. She couldn’t huff about that too much, not when she enjoyed the spanking and she hadn’t been looking after herself. “I could handle a few slices of this bad boy a day while I’m here.”

  “Want to talk about it?” Perry inquired, brows high.

  Sascha stabbed the fork into her cake. “Miscarried.” She didn’t go into the ins and outs of what had happened.

  Perry winced. “Sorry, Sascha.”

  Her mouth was a little less tight, her throat less thick as she shrugged. “Thank you. It’s easing with time.”

  A snort escaped the Queen. “Bull. Happened to me eight months after Alice was born.” Her mouth tightened. “No one understands. Not even the men who love you.”

  “They try—”

  “Then we were both fortunate in having their support, but there’s an expiration date on grief where it comes to miscarriage. My husband, husbands—” she amended with a whisper, “weren’t like that, but the court?” She shook her head. “They weren’t as generous. I even had one of my husband’s councilors ask me if I could stop moping about the palace as it was bad for morale.”

  “That bastard,” Sascha growled, spine straightening in outrage.

  Perry’s head bobbed in agreement then she shot Sascha a wink. “He wasn’t a councilor for long. Don’t worry.”

  “You told—”

  “Edward. You don’t need to call him the King. He has a big enough head as it is.”

  Sascha snickered. “Okay. Edward. You told him?”

  “I sure as shit did. Even if I hadn’t, he’d have figured something was wrong soon enough. After that dick’s ‘helpful’ advice, I moped around the place more than ever,” she admitted, then her brow puckered. “Do you ever feel pressure?”

  “All the time—but from what specifically? I don’t have a ‘court’ to pressurize me, but there’s always something to spoil your day.”

  Perry shrugged and in a low voice, whispered, “To make sure they all have a child.”

  Sascha’s eyes widened. “They pressure you for that?”