by Amy Marie
“I know. I get it.”
“Do you?” She held up her hand to stop me before I could say anything else. “Will you be at dinner tonight?”
I leaned back in my chair, sending it flying backward, and I almost toppled over, but I righted myself before I could. Hearing my mother’s laughter told me she had witnessed my less than stellar moment. It wasn’t the first time and probably wouldn’t be the last.
Grabbing my desk, I wheeled myself closer and stated, “I’ll be there.” I stared at her for a moment before I asked, “Why didn’t you just wait until I came to dinner before you interrogated me.”
“Because your father told me not to say anything.”
I nodded. “And where does he think you are right now?”
Her broad smile spoke volumes. “Shopping. I told him I needed to pick up a gift for a friend and get a few ingredients for tonight. Not a lie, but that’s what online shopping is for. You order and then pick it up. Takes no time at all to shop.” She laughed. Only my mother.
I chuckled. “I see.”
“Plus, is there anything wrong with a mother wanting to check on her only child?”
Rolling my eyes, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “No, nothing at all.” I had so many questions, so many accusations, but things were easy between us right now, and I swallowed them all down. I chose to keep the peace instead of blasting her. She knew how I felt, and how the curse haunted me, I didn’t need to lash out, wounding her. For whatever reason, my father embraced his curse. I couldn’t. Perspective? No, there was nothing that would change my perspective because I’d looked at this from every angle, and I just didn’t get it.
“Tonight, six sharp. Don’t forget.” My mother pointed at me, getting up and strolling over to pull me into a hug.
“I never do,” I grumbled as she wrapped me in her arms. The scent of Ralph Lauren Polo Number One filled my nose, and her long blonde hair brushed over my skin. My mother looked forty instead of fifty-five.
“I love you. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll see you tonight.”
She kissed my forehead, leaving behind a set of hot pink lips, giggling as she rushed out of my office. The moment I saw her with that lipstick on, I knew she would try something like that. She only did it when she wore a bright or dark-colored lipstick. There were times, I laughed about it because it made more than one guy turn and walk in the other direction. Other times, it annoyed me. This was one of those times.
Between the library yesterday and my dream last night, I was out of sorts and everything was pissing me off. If I could cancel tonight, I would, but it wouldn’t feel right after all the worry I’d caused them. Besides, if I kicked them out of my life, I would have virtually no one except Fizz. I didn’t have friends, and boyfriends were a hell no. That left immediate family and my bodyguard. What a sad existence, one that would not be changing any time soon.
Chapter 4
Lorde
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
I sat cross-legged on the side of my bed, staring unseeingly out the large picture window of my room. Blue eyes haunted me, appearing any time I closed mine. There was something about those eyes, a sadness, but also a fiery fury held in check. Why? Had something happened? What made him tick?
These were not the questions I should be asking now or ever. I needed to focus on the plan, on my destiny instead of thinking about him or trying to understand him. Plain and simple, I was sent here to kill him.
This was a feud that could be traced back for millennia. The Brothers Grimm published lies, shared untruths, and the public ate it up. My family’s truth, the real story, was over a thousand years old when my many times great grandmother had been tied to a tree with iron chains, bound from her forehead to her feet. They even made sure to wrap the cold metal around her neck before the whole tree was set on fire, killing her. She had done nothing more than to perform the duties and requests the royal family asked of her, and to reward her, they burned her as a witch. While she might have been a woman with magical abilities—like the others in my family throughout the generations—she was not an evil woman, no matter what that stupid fairy tale spouted and spread. No, the swans, portrayed as the victims, were actually evil and vindictive. They allowed the power to go to their head.
The king, who wanted to rid himself of his children, asked a woman known to have strong magical powers to turn them into swans, forcing them to fly away. After his queen died, he’d lost his mind; however, he couldn’t bring himself to kill them because they were still his children. She did as she was told and even explained to the princess how to reverse the spell. The king was grateful, and even though he did not know the spell could be reversed, he asked her to marry him, loving the daughter she already had as his own. When the king died, everyone blamed the new queen, calling her a witch. They dragged her in chains to the tree and tied her to the trunk, preventing her escape. She was bound too tightly. Judge and jury, they sentenced her to death and burned her alive, ignoring her screams for mercy.
Her daughter witnessed the whole thing and recounted the tale to her children. The real story had been passed down through the generations. The real story. The truth. Everything that happened to the king’s descendants was the fault of his family, not mine. Lies were spread, murder committed, but that was not where their transgressions ended.
My family was hunted down like animals and killed. Some lived, continually looking over their shoulders to make sure they would not be next. Some weren’t so lucky…or maybe they were the lucky ones.
Through the generations, as each year passed, as the threat disappeared and the other family forgot, my family never did. We remembered, recounted the tales to our children so no one would ever forget. And our hate grew. It was all my mother knew because that was all she was bred for by her mother. I was almost a disappointment since I’d been born male, but when they realized I had just as much power as they, if not more, they decided to train me. Maybe I could get close to the family, become a good friend, and then strike.
But those blue eyes.
A soft knock on the door to my room had me trying to uncross my legs and rush to answer it, but my limbs had fallen asleep, and I did nothing more than face plant on the expensive area rug I sat upon. “Bugger!”
“Lorde, are you all right?” My aunt’s voice was muffled by the thick wooden door.
“Yes, Aunt Pat. One moment,” I called out as I got to my feet and stomped around, hoping to force some feeling, more than the pins and needles, back into my legs.
“Lorde, are you sure you’re all right? Do I need to call someone?”
Chuckling, I shook my head. “No, I’m fine.” I finally made it to the door and opened it to find a short older woman, who only came to my mid-chest, dressed in a flowing white gown with her gray and black hair pulled up into a loose bun. Some tendrils had escaped and made her messy hairstyle look less on purpose and more haphazard, but she tried to keep up with the times, with varying success.
My mother’s youngest sister was the most loving and caring woman I knew. She was sweet and held onto an air of innocence, others in this family lost shortly after their birth. To my mother, Pat was an annoyance who was barely worthy of being in our clan, but to me, Pat was everything. Whenever I skinned my knee as a child, she would kiss and whisper a word over the wound to make it feel better. She was the antithesis of the woman who gave birth to me.
Maybe Pat was different because she had found the love of her life and married him. Harry, her husband and my uncle, passed away a couple of years ago, but while he was here, he would have moved heaven and earth for Aunt Pat; all she had to do was ask. He probably had at some point, and she would have done the same for him. Their love was the reason when we moved to London, Pat stayed here while my mother’s other sister, Virginia, moved with us to help train me and make my life a living nightmare.
The moment it was decided I would return to Chicago, Mother called Aunt Pat
to demand she put me up and give me a room. My aunt readily accepted her duty, though I think it was more because she wanted to see me than follow my mother’s orders.
Patting my cheek, Pat grinned. “You are going to be breaking hearts all over the city.”
“Aunt Pat…” I grumbled, blushing with embarrassment.
She blinked, her green eyes becoming large and wide. “What? Dear, your mother may have sent you on some…” she stopped and looked down the hall to her left and then her right. Closing her eyes, her lips moved, but I heard nothing, and then, her eyes popped open, and she winked. “Now, as I was saying, your mother may have sent you for her purpose, her mission, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have your own life to live. Sometimes, it’s all about priorities. What do you want out of life? What about meeting a nice man?”
My jaw dropped open. “Aunt…ahem…Aunt Pat?”
“Oh, you don’t fool me. You may have lived your whole life doing whatever your mother said, but you can’t tell me your gaze hasn’t wandered a time or two. I noticed how your eyes followed one of the delivery boys a few years ago. You are almost thirty, Lorde. What are you going to do after this idiotic vendetta is over?”
I was taken aback. “Idiotic vendetta?” Did she not remember what had happened to our family?
Her hand cupped my cheek, her eyes sad. “You were nothing more than a child, too innocent to be dragged into this. We were all innocent at some point in our lives, but to live your whole life for revenge, it blackens the heart. You’ll lose some of your humanity, if not all of it. Think about it. You are here to finish what began hundreds and hundreds of years ago, what will you do after? Will you return to London? Will you continue to live with your mother? What about your job? Do you love it?”
My job…I did love it. It started as trying to find answers, to gain more knowledge and wisdom, to discover new spells, but I absolutely loved everything about being a rare antique book dealer and expert. I was called in to value or examine a new discovery. Breathing in the scent of the yellowed pages gave me a high nothing else had been able to match, and it provided a good living…a great living. Not only that, but playing the stock market had afforded me a very hefty bank account, something I kept from my mother, and I wasn’t sure why. This was mine and mine alone. I contributed to our family purse, but she was not aware of how much I actually brought in, and I wanted it to stay that way.
“I love my job,” I croaked, my throat tight.
“And you can go almost anywhere with it,” she pressed.
Nodding, I agreed, “I can.”
“Kelly and Virginia were born and bred to seek revenge, brainwashed by our mother. They have thought of nothing else, have lived for nothing else, were taught to believe nothing else existed, but what happens after? What do they have to look forward to? What will they do when there is no longer a need for revenge?” I felt like she wanted to say something else, but held herself back.
She wasn’t wrong. My mother, Kelly, and her sister, Virginia, have only hate and retribution in their hearts. When I was growing up, they didn’t show me the affection Aunt Pat did. It was as if Pat wasn’t jaded like her sisters were. I loved my mother, and I believed she loved me because there were times I could recall when she hugged me or sang me to sleep, but those times were few and far between. They were memories I had to really think about to recall.
“I…I…” I was stumped. What was there after this family, or at least he, was six feet under?
The feel of her nails gliding against my back had me meeting her gaze. Her eyes were still sad, her brow was furrowed as she shook her head. “You need to find something you want to live for. It has to be for you. Find your own dream, something that makes you happy. Find love, start a family.” She paused for a moment before she said, “Sometimes the best revenge is being happier than your enemy.” Again, I felt like she had something else to add, but she held back. Why?
Blue eyes that shone like diamonds flashed in my head, and I rubbed my forehead with my cold fingers in an effort to rub those blasted eyes out of my head and memory. He haunted me, and I didn’t know why. So many blasted why’s and me without a single answer to one of them.
“Maybe,” I mumbled, unsure of what else to say.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, bouncing on her feet and clapping excitedly.
My mood immediately became lighter, and I laughed. “Did your new sweets recipe turn out well?” She loved to bake and try new recipes. In fact, she sold some of her goodies to a hotel in the city.
“No. Well, yes, it did, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” Last I checked, she wasn’t actually talking about anything since she began hopping around like a child suffering from a sugar high.
“Do tell.” Her mood was infectious, and my smile widened.
“I got you a ticket to the party next weekend! Someone you’re searching for will be there.”
This got my attention. “Someone I’m searching for?”
She nodded her head so quickly, I feared it might fly off her neck. “Yes!” she squealed, her bouncing intensifying.
Placing my hands on her shoulders to keep her on solid ground, I asked, “What are you talking about?”
“You’re looking for Max, and he’ll be there. He’s actually in charge of organizing the party. Not that he does it himself. I’m sure he has his secretary and a team of other people actually organize it, but he is in charge and oversees it. Well, he also runs the company, of course, he doesn’t have time to actually plan the party. I mean, he is the head honcho. CEO, president of the board…is it a president of the board? Is that his title? Not sure. Anyway—”
I didn’t shake her, but it was close. Instead, I yelled, “Aunt Pat!”
“Yes?”
“What are you blabbering on about? I don’t know who you are talking about. Max? Max who? I don’t know a Max.”
She stared at me as if I’d grown two heads with wide eyes and her brows practically reaching her hairline. “Maximillian Lux, the head of Swan International. The man you were sent here to find. Didn’t your mother tell you?”
Closing my eyes, I shook my head. “No, she didn’t tell me anything. I only had a last name, and you wouldn’t believe the number of Lux’s I found when I did an internet search of the city and surrounding areas.” I opened my eyes. “How do you know that’s who I am searching for?”
“I’ve known them ever since I moved here. You can tell when magic of any sort clings to someone.” She tapped the side of her nose. “I figured it out rather quickly when I heard their last name. Anyway, I got you a ticket to the party. You shall accompany me.”
“Did you tell Mother?”
“Yours?”
I bit back the wave of sarcasm that almost flew out of my mouth. I didn’t think she would appreciate it if I said something like, “No, I meant the Queen Mother.” Instead, I answered, “Yes. Mother seemed to only know the last name.”
“Really? I thought she would have given you more to go on. Maybe not Max’s name, but something. Her not knowing his first name doesn’t surprise me. I didn’t tell her his name. The way I saw it, you needed to grow up, and being away from Chicago would be good for her as well as you, so I withheld that information. I sort of wished she would have moved passed this stupid vendetta and found a new purpose for her life. Plus, I like Max and his family. They’re nice people.”
“What if they are only toying with you?”
I could see pools of wetness collecting at the corners of her eyes, and she frowned as she clucked her tongue and patted my cheek. “My dear boy…” Sighing, she dropped her hand. “I’ve been keeping an eye on them until you were ready.” My aunt reached for my hand and squeezed it. “Come down and have something to eat.” She may have been able to change the subject, but the melancholy still clung to her.
“I will,” I assured her and stepped back, closing the door when she left me standing there. Maximillian Lux. Now, I had a name to go with those eyes.
C
hapter 5
Max
A chill ran up my spine and caused my whole body to shiver. It wasn’t cold in my office; if anything, it was on the warmer side, but it didn’t stop me from scanning my office or inspecting each of the windows. Something about that chill reminded me of my dream, and I swallowed thickly.
Glancing down at my desk after I returned to it, I sighed. I was still on the first page of the first document I picked up the moment I came in four hours ago. “Utter waste of time,” I grumbled and dropped the proposal with a groan. I’d come in to forget the dream, hoping the structure and routine would sever its lingering pull. Typically, working did that for me. Today, it failed me.
I leaned back in my chair and tilted my head to stare up at the ceiling. In the last forty-eight hours, I’d gone from confident and secluded to feeling as if I needed to look over my shoulder every fifteen-seconds, and I didn’t like it one bit. Nothing had changed. Work was the same, and the library incident could be chalked up to a random occurrence. They were celebrating those idiot brothers, which meant reading different fairy tales, especially the lesser-known ones, made sense. It wasn’t like the librarian knew about my situation or that of my family. No way she could realize the curse, written off as nothing more than fantasy, was my reality. So, why did it feel as if it was more than that?
I had to shake it off and clear my head. My gaze dropped to my desk again, and a sigh escaped. I just wasn’t into work or anything else today. Instead, I began putting everything away, glancing at the clock on my computer as I did so. “Fuck!” It was already after five, and I was supposed to be at my parents’ house in less than an hour. Doable as long as traffic was non-existent, which in this city was never the case.
After throwing everything in my desk and locking it, I ran out of my office, slamming the door behind me. I didn’t fear my parents’ wrath if I arrived late, I was terrified of Gina’s. She had been our cook longer than I had been around, and when she said dinner was at six, she meant your ass better be in the chair at the table ready to eat. I hated to disappoint her. When I was thirteen, I came in thirty minutes late because I’d been too busy flirting with a guy at the baseball fields after practice. Cold cereal waited for me, and not even the kind I liked. Frosted Flakes. Bleh. Too sweet. Everyone else feasted on roasted pork, rosemary potatoes, grilled brussels sprouts, and her homemade yeast rolls. That was the last time I didn’t keep track of the time…until today.
