Page 79 of Outfoxed

The partition separating the front and the back lowered. “Don’t mind my sister, Miss Tamrin. She’s excitable. She’s been looking forward to meeting you for a long time. She was expecting a vixen, and vixens aren’t often sensible, so now she’s not sure what to make of you.”

“The sensible survive,” I replied. The sensible also didn’t get flung through the windshield if the damned limo came to a sudden halt.

“I wish you a great deal of luck with that. Sensible? In this family? Stephani’s eldest son is so inflicted with wanderlust we aren’t even sure if he knows his own address anymore. The next boy in line? A reformed drug addict who opted to become a stripper, and well, his mother just shrugs because who wouldn’t want to see such a pretty man naked? She is disturbingly proud over how she contributed to the existence of such handsome men.”

My eyes widened. Crazy rich people. Was their insanity contagious? Had Sandro run away from home in an attempt to preserve what remained of his common sense? Instead of whipping him into shape, I needed to help him escape from his family.

We could find somewhere nice to live in the West. Or the South, after we found those damned mages and beat the life out of them. Or anywhere other than in the East.

Sandro’s mother opened the door on the other side of the car, sat down, spat a few curses, and buckled up. “We do not tell that idiot husband of mine about this.”

“It’s a seatbelt, not the end of the world, Stephani. Marco might gloat a little, but he’ll feel better knowing you were safe.”

“Isn’t the whole point of a limousine to avoid having to wear the damned seatbelts?” Sandro’s mother complained.

“No,” her brother replied. “The seatbelt is to keep you from flying through the windshield should I have to hit the brakes.”

Why me? “Are there any other sons, and should I be concerned?”

“They’re idiots, all of them,” Sandro’s mother announced. “My kingdom for a damned girl! But no, since my idiot husband only produces idiot sons, I have to go hunt perfect daughters out in the wilds. This should be criminal. If left to their own devices, my sons will remain single until their dying day. And like it. They’ll leave their inheritances to their dogs and their cats.”

According to Sandro, his mother had married an uncontested courtesan, and while she called her husband an idiot, she smiled while doing it. “Do you love or hate your husband?”

“I absolutely adore the idiot. Marco. He’ll insist you call him Father, Dad, or if you’re trying to get out of trouble, Daddy. He’s weak when one of the idiots calls him that. My mother bought him for me just like I bought you for my idiot son. It’s a family tradition. Before uncontested courtesans, the head of the family made use of dowries, bribes, and arranged marriages. Mostly bribes. We’re obnoxious and easy to dislike.”

They were? Right. I dealt with a crazy rich person, and perhaps her brother was a little saner, so I turned to him.

“Don’t look at me, Miss Tamrin. She’s my idiot sister, and the only reason I’m married is because our mother did the same damned thing to me. Our mother is very methodical, and she married us all off that way, and did so in such a fashion we couldn’t refuse. Our mother is not just methodical, she’s ruthless, so the instant one of us idiot children of hers showed interest in someone, well, off she went. Being an idiot, just like everyone else in the family.”

“Methodical?” I asked, at a loss for what that could possibly mean. The ruthless part I understood, as there was something rather ruthless about marrying off a child to someone purchased at auction.

What I didn’t understand was how everyone seemed so damned happy about it.

I’d been able to handle my situation in a calm and rational fashion so far, but I lost my feeble hold on my delusions the longer I spent with them. With a few more pushes, would I become as crazy as them? I stared longingly at the door, recognizing I lacked the energy to make a run for it.

“Determined to partner us with somebody capable of whipping us into shape, for we are useless Morettis, much like the boy you get to handle,” Theo replied in an amused tone.

Crazy rich people. I dealt with crazy rich people. Crazy rich and possibly hopeless people. Before the auction, the whole damned situation had seemed absurd, but I had been able to determine benefits when I squinted and made plans involving the South and those hurting Tulsa. The only reason I didn’t panic involved a damned good idea of who ‘the boy’ they discussed was, how Sandro would react to the situation, and how I could use the situation to my advantage. Somehow.

Assuming their crazy ways weren’t contagious.

Maybe I really did need to rescue Sandro, and we could run away to the South, kill the assholes hurting my home in the Alley, and pretend the auction had never happened. I drew in a slow and deep breath, controlling my expression so I didn’t wince at the pain in my ribs. “You spent how much for me to handle a useless… boy?”

“The boy is not all that useless, so you won’t have to whip him terribly hard. Don’t worry. He’s quite the gentleman. Unfortunately. He is in need of refinement, he has a complete lack of finesse with women, and would rather be studying magic and reading than preparing himself to take over the family. Too gentlemanly. I need him to be a little more ruthless, especially when it comes to the family businesses. As such, I’ll be preparing you to take over the family businesses while he rots his brains playing with magic and reading his books. Foxes are cunning. You might make up for my idiot son’s weaknesses, of which he has many.”

Did Sandro’s mother love or hate him? I couldn’t tell. “Is this boy useless or not, then?”

“Well, he’s a quadrant master, so if anyone annoys you, I am sure he can handle things on that front. He’s quite handsome, so you can make good use of him during the winter. All of my sons are handsome, but he came out a little more handsome than the others. Our family is large, so if you need help with any children, that is not an issue. Theo loves children, and he whines that his wife limited him to five.”

“Menopause limited us to five,” he muttered. “Never have I hated a word so. Number six will be adopted, and we’re thinking this year right before Christmas. Patricia’s already fallen in love, and I can’t tell her no.”

“How old?” Sandro’s mother asked, sitting straighter in her seat.

“There’s a little girl, aged five, that’s caught her eye. At the local school near our vacation home. She’s shy, so she’s always overlooked, which makes her perfect. We’ll just bring her home, and it’ll take the rest of them at least a week to figure out she’s there. That’s plenty of time for her to adapt to the insanity.”

I wondered if it made any difference that the crazy rich people acknowledged their impaired state.

“And you love them best right when they’re old enough to truly start talking back.”