Page 101 of Only Fangs

“What about it?” Victor asks.

“I’m her father.” He points to me, in case Victor was a little simple and hadn’t made the connection.

“I understand that.”

“So he can’t just become her ward.”

Victor shrugs. “Under the rules of engagement he can.”

“So it’s done?”

“Well…” Victor leans back in his chair and it creaks in a way that doesn’t give me huge confidence about its structural integrity. “Here’s the thing about men like Andrei. They’re greedy. They like to stack the deck in their favour all the time. So when Clara managed to get you a reprieve for a year…” he pauses to take a sip of his pint. “She’s a good one, you know. You’re very lucky to have a friend like her.”

“I know.”

“Well,” he continues, “Andrei told me he would wait for a year before our deal was finalised. No point in him spending any money until he has to. And he doesn’t need you to be his ward until the day of your wedding to Benedict.”

“That sounds like Andrei,” Dad says. “Always was a tight fisted bastard.”

Victor takes another drink. “It did create an opportunity,” he says with a little raise of his eyebrows.

“An opportunity for what?” I ask, instantly suspicious. There’s something he isn’t saying.

“Well, you know how much I love to make a loan.” He grins at me, flashing his perfectly straight white teeth that any American movie star would kill for.

“Who did you loan money to?”

His grin widens. “Oh, he’s such a sweet boy. I really do think he loves you very much.”

“Tell me who you loaned money to,” I demand. But deep down I think I know.

“That lovely human of yours. Brody Jackson.”

“But why did he⁠—”

Victor interrupts. “He wants to build Only Fangs.”

“But… why?” A picture of him springs into my mind. The pain etched into his face. Why would he want to make Only Fangs after everything I put him through?

Victor shrugs. “You know I don’t have time to care too much for the details. He wanted to borrow the money to get Only Fangs off the ground. And he bought your debt too.”

It’s too much money. He will never be able to make that much. “And if he can’t repay?” I ask, my voice quiet.

But of course I know what happens to humans who can’t pay their debts.

Chapter 52

Brody

“You should come with us,” Matt says. “It’ll be better than moping around.”

“I’m not moping.”

“You’re in a pair of pyjamas that say ‘Master Lego Builder’ on then and you’re on the Just Eat website looking to see if anyone will deliver you an entire cake.”

“I’m in my pyjamas, that my nan kindly bought me for Christmas, because I’ve barely slept in forty-eight hours. I’m human. I need to sleep far more than you do. And I’m not looking for cake, I’m just contemplating ordering some dinner.” We both know I’m lying about the cake. When I’m stressed or sad or sleep-deprived – or a combination of all of these – the only thing I crave is some kind of sponge with a thick layer of icing. Preferably red velvet, carrot cake, or at a push a lemon drizzle.

“How about I promise we can go to the bakery on Bedford Street? They’re open for another hour.”