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“Lady Madeline is in love with someone else. Why force Maddy to—”
“I am in love withyou!” Maddy professes.
“No.” I look to my Queen, my eyes never wavering as I lie. “We called off the engagement a while ago on the grounds that Lady Madeline had taken a lover. She engaged in a torrid affair while I was out of the country. I have forgiven Maddy as a friend only. Grandmother...” My tone fluctuates with forged emotion. “You wouldn’t force me to marry thisunfaithfulwoman.”
Maddy scoffs at the preposterousness of my statement.
Her Majesty’s shoulders square. “Oh, so you were out of the country, eh? Victor, you vanish for extended periods. You’ve embarrassed your betrothed by frolicking with thatotherwoman. Thatcoloredwoman! You will now marry Madeline. Take up as many lovers as the both of you are willing to agree to. Be discrete. Princess Mary announced your engagement last night before you stood up and made a mockery of yourself.”
“My mother—”
Fuck. My phone vibrates again. Needing an outlet other than contemplating how my own mum has continued to put my feelings last, I grab the phone from my pocket. There are missed calls from Monica and a New York number.
“Victor? Victor!” The Queen commands, “Put that away. Idemandyour undivided attention!”
A text message pops up. The type that blows to smithereens the chunk of humanity I’m barely clinging to:
Hello Victor. Sorry to bother you. I kinda forced Monica to give me your number. Lux won’t answer my calls. I am worried about her and the baby. ~Aliyah
The baby.I take a deep breath andrise. Without words, I turn to leave.
The Queen scoffs. “Sit down, this instant!”
Maddy gasps. “Victor, control yourself, please.”
“Do not fucking touch me!” I point a finger at the guards manning the double doors. Their eyes waver with fear. My palms slam into the glossed wood, and I burst through the swinging doors. The guards in the lavish corridor assume a defensive posture. One, whose stance is rather confrontational, steps toward me. I grab him about the collar.
“If you so desire to apprehend me, might I suggest your tactics lead to my death? Got that,mate?” I shove him back, and he sails across the floor.
“Seize him!” the Queen says.
With Luxury’s pregnancy as my sole driving force, I move into action.
I start by tossing a jab at the blokenearest me. He sprawls into two more guards. Extending my fist back, I power through with a cross that dislocates the jaw of another guard. Each hit decreases my opposition. Then I'm apprehended from behind. Arms pressed down to my sides, I reach out with both feet, striking the fleet advancing from the front. More guards arrive. Twenty at least. They trade off. Their bloody mistake. They might as well converge on me all at once. I take a punch to the chin. My thirst for blood leaves the bloke who dealt such a weak blow stumbling over himself to flee my wrath. As I’ve targeted onewanka, another’s fist rockets into my abdomen. If this were any other day buttoday,I’d admit he phased me.
I roar, rounding on thetosser, pounding a flurry of strikes into him. I crouch down to pummel his face in. As I bludgeon the bloke, his mates pile on top of me like this is American football.
“All right. All right.” I cave. Flashing a cocky smile at the blokes before me, I have already gotten plan B covered. I spit out a gut full of blood as they escort me to one of the offices down the hall.
“Tossers, all of you!” I shout as they shove me inside. The loud click of the door locking from the corridor causes my fingers to curl into tight fists.C’mon, you wanker. Get yourself out of this mess.
I reach into my jacket pocket for my phone, and my eyes bite shut in defeat. My mobile must have fallen out during the scuffle.
“Bollocks!” I stalk across the sitting room, adorned with antique beige furniture. Dropping my hands on the crown molding accenting the frame, I scowl out of the window. The height factor doesn’t present an issue. I’m on the first bloody floor. But the guards across from Her Majesty’s roses glower in warning.
All right. Now for the modified plan.
I sulk away, searching the inner walls.
Where are you?My finger trails over gilded frames of royal paintings, searching for a latch to the secret tunnels my little brother, Graham, and I played in. I figured the Queen would lock me in the room like a child. I anticipated it—anything to get away from her.
As the door opens, I step back and drop my hands to my trousers like a defeated cunt.
“Vic . . . Victor?” Madeline’s head pops into the room. She gives a weak smile to indicate that she is not a threat. Her worst offense is choosing not to see the deadly gleam in my eyes, though she has the good sense to pause while closing the door. After doing so, she turns toward me, taking a meek step forward.
When her slender hand reaches for my jaw, I clasp her wrist. “Give me your keys.”
“Why?” she asks, tugging away from my ruthless touch.
