Volatile Love: Gilded Sovereign, page 4
Each time he was near me I would watch him, decipher his moods by the tells he has. A nervous tick of drumming his fingers on the table, the way his mouth would curl in disgust when he was deep in thought. Certain things would push him over the edge, but I never did. Because I learned how to be around the volatile man.
My younger years were spent planning how I’d run, how I’d escape. Even now that he’s taken me, brought me here, I know I’ll find a way out. He may be my captor, but I’ll become a predator.
I’ll save myself.
And I’ll make it back to Tynewood, one way or another.
* * *
A loud banging on the door startles me awake. I don’t move. I can’t because I have a feeling my father will kill whoever is on the other side. When the incessant racket doesn’t stop, I sigh and push out of bed.
Barefoot, I make my way into the rest of the apartment to find it empty. A small note on the countertop tells me Dad is out at a meeting.
Another loud hammering on the wooden door and I’m already simmering with rage at whoever decided to wake me at… glancing at the red letters on the stereo, I note it’s only seven in the morning, which makes me even angrier.
I don’t look through the peephole before I pull open the door, only to be met with the beautifully transient gaze of Etienne Durand.
“Why are you here? I thought I made myself clear when you first tried to play the hero.” My voice is filled with frustration. I hear it, and I know Etienne can hear it. I wish he would just leave because it would make all this so much easier.
“You know why I’m here.” He stalks around the apartment, the same space my father just walked out of moments ago to head to a meeting. I’m not sure when he’ll be back, but I can’t take any chances by having Etienne here.
I watch Etienne, taking him in from head to toe, and I don’t know what it is about him, but he makes me nervous. I can’t shake the feeling that if Etienne knew the truth about why I’m here, he’d hate me.
I wonder if he’s already found out about what Fergus has done to me in the past. About the parties. The idea of him knowing fills me with shame and guilt.
And I don’t know why I don’t want him to hate me. That’s a lie. I do know. It’s because he makes my stupid teenage heart believe that he can save me. But fairytales aren’t real, I’ve told Dahlia that since the moment I met her. My best friend would get lost in romance novels that had happy endings, but my life isn’t fictional. As much as I wish it was.
“You should leave, Etienne,” I tell him. Turning away, I head to the coffee machine and place a mug under the drip before flicking on the switch. I can feel Etienne watching me. His silence is jarring, and I briefly think about asking him to save me.
Befriending Dahlia was the first step of many that Fergus had planned. And now I’m here, locked in the apartment with nowhere to go until Daddy Dearest collects me for the poker game tonight.
Blackmail is the name of the game, and the moment he’s got enough footage of these old assholes who like to grope teenage girls, he sends me on my way, and I’m meant to play the dutiful daughter.
Shutting down any fear, I face Etienne again, but I don’t look him in the eyes when I say, “I need you to go back to Tynewood, and forget you ever met me.” When I meet his dark chocolate stare, I can’t help but want to get lost in it. I want him to look at me like he is right now for the rest of my life.
“I can help you. We can help you,” he insists. I should never have let him into the apartment, but I didn’t have a choice. If one of my father’s men saw him, he’d be killed, and I can’t have Etienne’s life being stolen for caring about me.
Shaking my head, I turn away from him, staring down at the river that snakes through the city. The slow rising sun turns the horizon a bright orange, and the sky that cocoons the city of London lightens as the night turns to day.
“I’m not leaving until you tell me everything. And if you don’t, I’ll just wait here until your father comes back and confesses whatever the fuck you’re doing for him.”
“You really think my dad is going to tell you what his plan is?”
“He worked for Abner, which means he’s here doing something illegal.” Etienne’s right, but I don’t nod, I don’t respond, I allow him to come to his own conclusions. Even if I did tell him everything, he couldn’t do shit to save me.
7
Etienne
“You are the most annoying woman I’ve ever come across.” I watch her body tense, and I know I’m in for her fiery personality. If Ares thinks he has his hands full with Dahlia, he can think again because I’m here with a woman who I want to save, and she’s acting like a goddamned hero.
“And you are the most pigheaded man I’ve ever met,” she bites out, turning to face me. Her long braids hang down her back, and there’s a soft hue of orange behind her, lighting her smooth skin. The ink that adorns her arm is colored in various shades, but in this light, there’s another hue that seems to pop against her caramel flesh.
“It’s one of my better qualities,” I tell her, chuckling when she rolls her eyes. She’s got something that makes my body respond in ways I’ve never felt. And that’s what fucking scares me. I made a vow to myself. I built these walls around me to stop my feelings from escaping, but Rukaiya is slowly chipping away at them—brick by brick.
“Are you even listening to me?” Rukaiya’s voice breaks through my memories and drags me back to the present.
“What?”
She sighs audibly, the sound is soft, almost pained, and I’m tempted to go to her and wrap her in my arms, but I know she’ll only push me away. So, I wait.
“I can’t leave here until I’ve finished the ritual,” she tells me.
My ears perk up at this new information. When we were seventeen, Ares and I found a few hidden volumes in his dad’s library. Amongst them was a book of ceremonies that take place within the Sovereign where each of the sects will celebrate for lack of a better word. But no women are allowed. Ever.
“Ritual?” My voice cracks on the word, because the moment I say it, I come to the realization that there must be something we missed. Philipe was meant to research every fucking page of that book.
Rukaiya nods, her eyes lock on mine, and I see the pain in those beautiful gemstone orbs. She’s scared. In the months that I’ve come to know her, I’ve never seen her fearful, ever, but right now, in this room, she’s shaking.
“And he’s taking you into a Sovereign party?”
“Yes, in Amsterdam, I’m… I’m the entertainment,” she finally admits.
I have no words as she stalks by me into what I assume is her bedroom. Moments later, she returns holding a pair of ballet shoes. She sets them down gently, along with a dress that’s far too short for any public gathering.
“My outfit.” She doesn’t meet my gaze when she tells me this, but if she did look up, she’d see the rage that’s slowly coursing through every vein in my body. “I’m meant to dance for them.”
“This is fucked up,” I bite out, my jaw ticking as I clench it so hard I’m sure my goddamned teeth are about to shatter. “You’re not doing it.”
Her stubborn gaze snaps to mine. “What?”
“You’re not doing it. We will stop it before it’s even begun,” I tell her adamantly. “I’m not letting you go up there and prance around like a fucking doll on display for those assholes.”
“You’re not letting me?” The girl is gone in the next second and then I’m met with my little wolf. She’s about to devour me whole for saying what I did, but I’m not apologizing. She’s mine. The thought slams into me before her hand makes contact with my face. Hard.
“What the fuck?”
“You don’t let me do anything. I’m capable of taking care of myself,” she grits through clenched teeth, and I swear to god, I almost see her snarl at me.
“Oh, little wolf, you have so much to learn.” I offer her a smirk before turning on my heel and heading for the doorway. And just like I thought, she’s racing up behind me within seconds. By the time I reach the handle and twist it, her small, delicate hand is on mine.
“What did you mean by that?” She speaks to my back, and as much as I’d love one more glance of her, to take her in for another moment longer, I don’t.
“Just what I said.” I pull open the door and step outside. With my back still to her, I glance over my shoulder, allowing her to see my profile, but not far enough that she can see my eyes.
They say eyes are the windows to your soul. If she looked at mine right now, she’d see just how fucking dark I can go.
“Don’t ever think you can run, because once I’ve made my mind up, there is no escaping me.” I tug the door shut with a loud click and make my way to the elevator. It doesn’t take long for me to get to the garage and slip into the driver’s seat of my father’s Aston.
I don’t know how we’re going to stop this bullshit ritual, but I’ll die trying. I pull out my phone and hit call on Dad’s number. A few rings later, and I hear his voice come through the line.
“What did you learn?”
“They’re going to initiate her into the sanctum, into the circle.” I keep my voice low, hoping and praying that he has an answer for me. That Dad will be able to help me save her. She may think she’s merely the entertainment, but this means so much more than Rukaiya can ever imagine.
She’s my little wolf, and no one else will take her but me.
I’ll make sure of it.
“They can’t do that. She’s not twenty-one yet, and even so, the Elders will never allow it.”
“They’re not doing it in London,” I inform him. “They’re flying to Amsterdam.”
I hear the breath that leaves my father’s lungs at that moment. I’ve heard about the European societies. Everything I’ve heard has made me wary of her going there, and the fact that Fergus thinks he can initiate her into a circle of filthy assholes who will then own her—that’s utter bullshit.
“Okay, we’ll sort this out. Get back to the mansion, and I’ll get the jet ready, we’ll fly out there tonight.”
I hang up, start the engine and peel out of the lot and down the busy London streets. It’s going to take me at least an hour to get out of the city and to my father’s new home.
Enough time to plan exactly how I’m going to gut Fergus Harrison.
* * *
Walking into my father’s office is like taking a step back in time. The room is rich with history, with ghosts from the past, and it holds a certain danger that seems to lurk right beneath the surface. I wish I could be anywhere but here.
Not because I’m afraid, but because this is a place I’d rather never visit. Even though I’m proud to be a Crown, I don’t approve of a lot of what they do here. Dad isn’t as bad as his predecessors, but power brings a hunger for more.
“What have we got?” I ask, as I settle in the chair opposite his desk. My father is someone you’d envision running a secret society. His dark hair with hazel eyes and handsome smile make him seem like an easy-going family man. Always dressed in a suit, and if I didn’t know better, I would peg him for a lawyer or some shit.
“They’re meeting in two days. We’ll fly out tonight, and I’m reaching out to them to attend the ritual.” Confusion creases my face as I regard my father. “What?”
“Attend the ritual? We have to stop this. We can’t have her out there prancing around, so every man in the fucking society can look at her!” My voice booms through the office, and I know I’m being loud, rude, and disrespectful, but the thought of my little wolf dancing around in nothing but a fucking leotard that I know will hug her slight curves and bubble butt has jealousy coursing through my veins.
“Etienne Eros Durand.” His voice is cold, controlled, and he uses my full fucking name. I know I’m fucked, but I don’t give a shit. “Listen to me, and you listen very fucking well.” Dad pushes up from where he’s sitting, his hands splayed on the smooth surface of his wooden desk. “When I say we’re doing something, it’s my call.”
My body vibrates with frustration and anger at my father’s words. I want nothing to do with this if he’s not going to help me or Rukaiya. I’ll do it myself.
“And if I even hear you’re trying to fuck up my plan then I’ll send you back home and you won’t be allowed back here.”
“Plan? Attending the ritual isn’t a plan. You’re sending her into a den of fucking lions,” I bite out through clenched teeth, fisting my hands at my sides to keep from punching the goddamned wall.
My father smirks knowingly. “Then you better pray your girl can fight back because she’s going to have to if she wants to survive this.”
“You’re not trying to help her, are you?”
“Why would you ask that? I’m not a monster, Etienne,” he tells me. “I’m here to run the Sovereign in the best way I know how.” He stalks around his desk, making his way toward me. I half expect him to hug me, but my father isn’t that type of person.
He’s about to say something more when the door swings open and the gentle fragrance of honey and apples wafts through, along with the woman I know isn’t just my father’s assistant.
“Hello, Etienne,” she smiles at me when she reaches us. “It’s lovely to finally meet you.” Her words are melodic. She is the polar opposite of my mother: delicate, pretty, and young. My mother, on the other hand, is made of Botox and plastic; she comes from old money where being seen and noticed are what you strive for. The woman before me is nothing like that.
“Yeah, I don’t doubt you’ve heard all about me when I have no clue who you are.” Shrugging, I offer a salute to my father before turning on my heel and heading to the door. “See you tonight, make sure I’m not seated beside your arm candy.” I expect him to call me back to admonish me, but he doesn’t, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
This is a fucking joke.
My father may think he’s in love, but he’s just blinded by pussy. It doesn’t come easy, no emotions do. You work for that shit. It doesn’t fall into your lap. That’s why I know what I feel for Rukaiya is real, it’s not some flimsy bullshit that will end the moment she gets older.
And I’ll make her see it.
One way or another.
8
Rukaiya
The suite we’re staying in is exquisite, and I can only imagine the cost of this. My father’s been silent, brooding, and I wonder what he’s thinking. It wasn’t long after Etienne left that Dad returned from whatever meeting he’d had, and I wondered if he bumped into Etienne on the way in. However, his focus was on packing, getting on the flight and coming to Amsterdam.
I wanted to ask him to change his mind, to see if there’s another way, but I didn’t. I still recall the day my father asked me if I wanted to do ballet. My mother was still around when I was learning, and she’d always give me pointers and drive me to lessons; she always watched me with such love in her eyes.
After mom died, it was my only connection to her, so I kept dancing, up until I turned sixteen when Dad decided he’d had enough of my ‘prancing around.’ He forced me to focus on practical subjects, so I did, but deep down, I’d missed being on stage. I took to it easily, spinning on my toes, leaping into the air, and I loved the feeling of being free.
“You’ll practice over the next two days,” Dad tells me finally as I flop into the armchair. “I want this performance perfect. Dimitri is a fan of the ballet, and if you can charm him with your talents, I can get the information out of him.”
“What information?”
“That’s not for you to worry about. This is for your benefit; one day when I’m no longer here, you’ll have everything you’ve ever dreamed of.” He watches me for a response, a retort of anger, or perhaps something else, but I don’t offer it. I don’t want him to see my frustration.
Dad pours himself a drink, neat vodka from the small bar fridge that’s perched in the corner of our suite. No ice. He just gulps it down like it’s water. There’s only a small wince on his face before he turns to me again, pinning me with a glare.
Sighing, I nod and respond, “So you’re not selling me off to some random Russian man?” I shouldn’t goad him when he’s like this, but I’m at a point of no return. I’ve always been difficult with him, and I was never apologetic about it because I knew he didn’t love me the way a parent should love his child.
“If he offered me enough, perhaps I would.”
“Can I have my phone back?” I ask him gently, hoping he’ll at least give me one freedom back. When he walked into the apartment earlier, he took my phone and kept it. I know he was checking if I’d contacted anyone, but I didn’t. He made it clear I wasn’t to contact anyone in Tynewood, and I obeyed like the good daughter I am. But now that I’m almost done with this bullshit charade that he’s planning, I want my life back.
“If I see one call to your friend—”
“Dad, you told me not to talk to Dahlia. I won’t talk to her.” My insistence must calm him down somewhat because he pulls my phone from his suit pants and hands it to me. I quickly reach for it, but the moment my fingers make contact, he tugs it, so I’m forced to meet his penetrative stare. “I promise.”
Those two words get me my phone, and I watch my father leave the room and head into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. I’m not stupid, he’s giving me space, testing me. But I’m not failing this time.
Once, when I was a little girl, he did that to me. Leaving me alone after giving me an order. I disobeyed. My ass smarted painfully from his belt for days. He knew what I was doing before I even did it.
This time, though, I’m older, wiser, and I’m not about to get myself into trouble before I can finish this job. I need to know who this Dimitri guy is. Perhaps I can call Etienne in the morning and tell him where I am. Or maybe I can get a message to Dahlia and let her know I’m okay.
