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CHAPTER19
Kane
Itry to drown Charlotte's voice out as she drones on. Instead, my attention goes to the huge floor-to-ceiling windows that look out on the London skyline. My thoughts are focused on one thing only: my wife.
My brother was right about talking to her. At least now I understand why she did what she did, even if I don't like it. I understand her need to gain her father's approval. I am the same in many ways. Although I don't give a shit what my parents think any longer, for years I was chasing their endorsement, hoping to gain their attention by being the best I could be. Once I realised I could never achieve what I was hoping, it changed my outlook. I stopped seeking my parents’ approval and I focused instead on the people who gave to me without taking anything: my siblings.
“Are you listening, Kane?” Charlotte hisses at me. I glance around, taking in my brother who looks equally bored. My father is not here today, though I'm not sure where he is. Charlotte didn't deem to tell us, and I don't care enough to ask.
“I really don't care what you have to say.”
“Well, you should. This affects all. I need to find your sister a good match.”
I cock my brow, but it is Zeke who speaks. “Here's a novel idea, why don't you just keep your fucking nose out of it and let Aurelia choose her own husband?”
Charlotte stares at my brother as if he has lost his mind. I can understand why my mother would feel this. Arranged marriages are the way of our world. Most unions come around this way, political movements that keep powerful families in their place. The thought of my sister being forced to marry some overweight, middle-aged man with a hard-on for younger women makes my skin crawl. It’s different for Zeke, for Luke, and for myself. In these relationships, it is the men who have the power. I don't want my sister to have this life.
“She's not marrying anyone,” I say in a soft voice.
“She is eighteen. It is time. We can make a good arrangement—”
“You're not listening. She is not marrying anyone unless she chooses to. Her, not you, not Anthony. Neither of you will have a say in her relationships. You have meddled enough in the lives of me and my brothers. I’ll not have you wreck our sister’s too.”
I'm not sure why this is a hill I am willing to die on, but it is. I was forced into my marriage and already things are going wrong. My sister deserves the chance to make her own choices. It’s not as if there are any more alliances to be made. We have either destroyed all our enemies or married into their families
“Don't be ridiculous. Your sister knows her duty to this family, as should you. Everything we do is to protect our legacy.”
I glance out of the window. “I couldn't give a shit about our legacy. The only reason I went along with anything you have demanded I do is to keep our family safe from the situation you and my father created. We don't need Aurelia to marry to cement what we already have. We are strong through my marriage, through Luke's marriage, and through Zeke's. Leave her the fuck alone. She doesn't deserve your poison.”
Charlotte turns to Zeke and Lucas, expecting them to jump to her defence. Zeke shifts his shoulders. “I agree with everything he said.”
Lucas nods enthusiastically. “Me too. It's obscene marrying her off to someone who will undoubtedly be thirty years older than her.”
“Kara is just a few years younger than our sister. The thought of marrying her off to some stranger makes my blood freeze.” Kara is Zeke's stepdaughter. She is four years younger than Aurelia, so I can understand why he feels strongly about this.
Charlotte tosses her hair over her shoulder and lifts her nose in the air. “Well, it's a good thing none of you are in charge of making sure she gets a good match, isn't it?”
I stand up, pushing my palms into the desk as I do. “If you force her to marry, I will burn our organisation to the ground myself. You inside it.”
I storm from the room, feeling itchy tension crawl between my shoulder blades. Carving up that man had done nothing to ease my anxiety. If anything, it made it worse, because now my adrenaline has fled, I feel depleted.”
As I start towards the lift, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and see Elena's name flash on my screen. I reject the call and slide my phone back into my pocket. If she wants us to play at man and wife, eating dinner as if nothing has happened between us, she is crazy. I can't just switch off what happened. I can't just pretend her betrayal wasn't real.
I head down to the parking garage and find Ford waiting in the car. He drives me to a bar that I often frequent when I need a good glass of something top shelf. For the next hour, I lose myself in the bottom of the glass. Then, when I can make no more excuses, I head home. As soon as I walk in the house, I get the feeling something is wrong. The house is too quiet, too still. The faint smell of something cooking reaches my nose, so I make my way to the kitchen. As I walk into the room, I see the pots on the stove, but it’s not lit. I go to it and peer to the nearest one, seeing the soggy remains of what was supposed to be dinner.
And emotion I’m not familiar with slivers through me. Guilt. She went to this effort, and I didn't turn up.
I move through the house, trying to find her. She is not in the living room that she favours, nor any of the others, I find every room downstairs empty, so I head upstairs. There is no sign of her in any of these rooms either, and my panic starts to grow. Where the fuck is she?
I pull my phone out and try to call her as I search the bedroom for any evidence of where she might be. There is no answer. It rings and rings with no response. Fear crawls over me, tearing at my skin. Why isn't she answering?
Nothing seems to be missing, until I get into the closet. It’s then I see one of her knives is missing from the line-up of weapons. My gut clenches. Something isn't right.
I head back downstairs, taking each step at speed, and make my way out to the garage. I don't know why I look there, but something tells me to. As soon as I open the doors, I see one of the cars is missing.
Did she leave? Walk out on me?
No. If she'd left, she would have taken things with her. Clothes, the little things that fill up space in my house now. Our house. The only thing missing is that damn knife. Which tells me she needed it to defend herself.
