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“Miss Prescott.” It’s Warren’s voice that triggers some uplift in her eyes as they slowly look at the man in question. “Your Ruthless Kings are concerned with your wellbeing.”
“I’m fine.” Even her voice is like a void. It’s still feminine, per se, but all that fierce fire and defiance that leaks off with every word she punctuates are all extinguished.
It makes her so…boring.
That ticks me off.
“What did you do?” I’m demanding an answer from Warren, who looks out the window.
“I don’t answer to you.”
“Warren,” Ares grunts in disapproval. “I got no clue what you two were arguing about earlier, but this isn’t the Verena who we deemed worthy enough to be our queen. Despite the pending contract, you know if this isn’t explained, we can just pull out.”
If threatening gets us answers, so be it.
We don’t have time to waste.
“We’re going to be late, Warren,” Dom snaps. “Spill. What the fuck is up with Iva?”
“You informed Mr. Prescott of Miss Prescott’s recent fainting spells, correct?” he counters and slowly turns his head to Domino. His expression is like a blank slate, but there’s rooted emotion in his eyes. He’s submerging a lot of dangerous shit in there, and I can only wonder what would happen if he exploded.
“Yes?” Dom huffs with annoyance. “What? Was I not supposed to inform him of the sick cunt he offered to us Kings, as if we’re not worthy of perfection?”
I frown at his words, especially when I’m not some ‘healthy’ royal who got lucky to be born in richness and privilege.
The only luck that followed me was not being slain that night.
“That’s the result,” Warren announces like it’s some sort of secret and looks away.
“What’s the result?” Ares questions. “Get to the point, Warren. We only have fifteen minutes to get to the Leighton Estate, and we can’t fuck this up if we don’t know shit.”
“Mr. Prescott ordered me to give Miss Prescott a drug that will ensure her cooperation during the family dinner,” Warren elaborates with a deadpan tone. “That’s the result.”
What?
My throat feels tight from the news. As if I’m suddenly thirsty, only to feel that anxious bubble that begins to grow whenever the time ticks closer to when I have to take my meds.
“You drugged her?” I’d be lying if I said I was shocked by Dom’s snarl.
“I followed orders,” Warren mutters. “Mr. Prescott is my employer.”
“But you love her,” Ares sounds conflicted. “Fuck, Aries. I know you take your job seriously, but…”
“But what?” Warren snaps and turns his head to glare at his younger brother. “You’re but a tiny speck in this fucked-up world, and you’re going to belittle my compliance to the man who secures our livelihood?”
When Ares has nothing to contribute, he huffs and grumbles in German before looking away.
“Sacrifice even half of what I’ve done for you to even be sitting among these royals, and you’d shut the fuck up,” he mutters. “You’ll find out soon enough the lengths people in powerful seats like Mr. Prescott and Mr. Leighton will go just to ensure you despise yourself down to your core. Where you’ll never be able to erase it from your mind, no matter how much you scrub your flesh or try to bury it with drugs and alcohol.”
The car couldn’t be more silent.
“Ten minutes.”
We’re forced to return our attention to Dolcezza. She’s simply staring at the clock as if it’s her prime focus for the evening.
Domino is staring at her the longest, but he forces his gaze away and looks for incoming traffic before pulling back onto the road.
“People like you are the worst.”
