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Chapter Fourteen
Willow
I stare at the fire in the fireplace in front of me, the flickering flame as it dances across the path of my eyesight. I have done a lot of zoning out lately. I am bored out of my damn mind here, and I hate it. I hate hearing the whispers behind my back about the awful goings on of the clans. I want to pretend as long as possible that I have nothing to do with this and that I will find my way out. I even do as much to distract myself with working on the new Delish locations. But something about today feels utterly different. There's a silence that has settled over everything that makes me feel like my little fantasy world of hope is coming to an end.
I know that my father is ill. I know that's why I am here, expected to take over because he is going to die and has no other heir. The rest lost their lives in this evil world that I wanted no part of. Why I was being viewed as different, like my fate wouldn't be the same, I don't quite get. Maybe there is something about this Duncan guy that they think makes him invincible, and since he is seeing to my protection and imprisonment, really, I will be fine. There is nothing fine about this. And that's the one thing I will never pretend, even as I stand here with diamonds dripping from my ears and a jumpsuit that likely costs as much as the building where my pastry shop resides.
Duncan appears by my side seemingly out of nowhere, but I don't let go of the flames as I sip at the cup of tea I am holding. My hand is shaking though because it is almost like I know what he is here to tell me before he says a word. I can see his reflection in the glass, and his usual smile is replaced by a stern frown.
He is not here to joke or tease today.
"Your father is asking for the both of us," he says seriously. I don't even flinch, but I am also not going to give him the usual hard time that I do.
"Why?" I ask simply, even though I know the answer deep down. My heart feels like it is freezing in my chest in preparation for this because there is nothing that I want to hear to change my mind about him or this life or my mother. Nothing about what I know of the life I have lived and the unfairness of it. I have seen these scenes in a million movies where the child and the father bond at that last moment of life when mortality is so clear, but I have to hold onto the truth. I am not going to be broken by this.
"You know why. It's time," he answers, nodding in the direction of the room where my father has been held up for several days now with people caring for him and visiting off and on.
I turn around and put one manicured foot in front of the other, not looking at Duncan or at anything in particular as I walk into the dim light of the room and smell the sickness. I don't know if anyone else can smell that, but every time I have been around anyone sick, it's smelled this way. This pungent odor of ichor that comes from the flesh. Maybe this is just worse because of what I think of the man. It smells just like one would assume death does.
I keep my face blank as we come to stand at the end of the bed. I aim for the left corner, close enough to hear and see him but far enough away that he can't reach for my hand or anything.
I am most annoyed that Duncan has to be here with me. If my father wasn't clearly on his deathbed, I would pop a comment about how he should just come to piss with me too.
His voice is hoarse as he begins to choke his way through what he is saying. "Willow," he begins, addressing me by my name so sweetly I almost think that he might have cared more than he let on all these years. "I know that I have kept you at a distance and that you have not had the kind of care and closeness you need since your mother's death. I know that I allowed my own prejudices to keep me from your life growing up. I apologize."
My arms cross over my chest without me even realizing I am doing it. It's like a physical block from my heart. It's too late to let him in now. And as if he reads my mind, he mentions it next.
"I wish I could make you feel like you mean more to me than as a clan heir, but I know it is too late for that. All I can do is wish you strength and as much happiness and a long life as what my money, power, and men can afford you."
He starts in on another coughing fit as Duncan goes to his side to comfort him. It becomes clearer than ever that Duncan has been treated in a way that maybe I should have. He is rubbing his back and helping him through this. I see in Duncan's eyes that he cares for this man, and it finally hits me that what he said before was true; that it isn't about the money for him. They have some kind of bond. I don't know what to feel about that. If it is supposed to make either of them seem more human to me or something.
Then, in barely above a whisper, my father gives Duncan an order.
"Be loyal to her like you were to me. Always protect her. Always put her first, and forget what I had said to you. I was wrong, Duncan. I was so wrong…"
Duncan nods, and I take my cue to leave the room. I have nothing else to say, and in fact, I feel like I am robbing the moment from the person that truly benefits from it. I wonder how things will change for me now. If I will feel freer now that he is gone, or if I will feel even more trapped by this criminal existence being forced upon me. I suppose it all hangs on who the hell I am going to be forced to marry.
