AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Nineteen
Duncan
Things have changed a hell of a lot since that strange conversation that we had in Kristof’s study. The most surprising thing is that Willow has stopped publicly fighting who she is. Like a true Adame, she has been brushing up all the business aspects that she can get her hands on, even had several conference calls with the other Clan leaders. I don't know what's changed, but it as odd as it is natural. I see little glimpses of her father every day. I even see it in the way that she decides to dress and carry herself. She’s always in her best dressed every time she's in front of the men. No cracks show or slip.
But I wonder how she's feeling about all of this on the inside. We haven't exactly talked much since that conversation, and I can kind of get why. I went a little overboard there. I gave her too much of a compliment for just having a bit of a moment.
Who am I kidding? It was much more than a damn moment, and both of us know it, but neither one of us seems to want to admit to it. I got really close to it. Not that I'm dumb enough to think that anyone is going to let her get out of line for a long time and be with some American, which means she'll be forced to marry a Romanian any moment now. I don't want to see it. I don't want to be around. If I didn’t have dying orders from the man who saved me, then I would have hitchhiked my way out of here a long time ago. I can get by just fine on my own now. Even if I hate the idea. But my job for the rest of my days is to protect Willow.
I survey my cameras, something I find solace in, and I catch Willow on screen grabbing her purse and heading to the door with her security detail. A detail I am not in. I don't know where she is going, and I have not been informed of this little trip either.
I step furiously out of the room to block her way out the door. "How in the actual fuck am I supposed to protect you if you are running off somewhere without me? You know as well as I do that this is my life's work. That is the duty that I have been given. That is my job. Where you go, I go." Yeah, I am being a little harsh here, but when my feelings get hurt, I tend to put up the wall. It’s twice as thick now.
"You mean is was your job as well as getting me prepared to take over, " she says, stepping in real close she's gritting her teeth into my ear. "But I am Domnisoara now. You said it yourself when you brought me here. That was part of your job too, remember? So, Voldemort is dead, and I am the new leader, and you are to listen to my orders. Today, my orders do not involve you coming with me. You’re staying here. Maybe it's a bit of a weakness, but I thought it would be kind to leave you behind when I go on this date with Stefan." She says that part with such a venom and anger but so quietly that the other two men can’t possibly know what she's talking about. It is a good thing, but my fists are clenched, and I'm ready to use them on someone or something. She may not be giving anything away, but I'm afraid I will.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I ask her with a knowing nod. I am trying to get through to her before it's too late. I don't know what I think is going to come out of all of this. Nothing good can, but I just can't let her go through with this is insanity. What is wrong with me?
"Well, I am getting more serious, and so are the threats. It would be best if there's a Romanian man by my side sooner rather than later. Unless you have a better suggestion than Stefan, he seems like an upstanding gentleman. So, in short, yes, I guess this is a good idea."
I turn to the two men that are going to be going with her, and I glare at them. They better bring her back in one piece untouched, or there will be hell to pay. There will be no canoodling; that's not how this works. Yes, I know she is no virgin, but the true Romanian woman would be. And I expect Stefan, the supposed gentleman, to stick with that. But she's right, I can't go with her.
So, I walk away and let her walk out the door. I can feel her ripping away from my heart the further she gets away from me.
I go back to my cameras, having nothing else to do. But I soon find that’s not going to help me either. I watch some of the men joke around and some of them smoke. I watch Willow’s empty room. It is not healthy for me, what I am doing. I'm sublimating, and I know it, even though I really have never done it before over a woman. Women were supposed to be fun, but there is definitely nothing fun about this. In fact, it hurts like hell. Do normal people this on a daily basis?
All I can see in my mind's eye is Stefan holding the door for her. How he will wine and dine her. Say nice things about how she looks and order her food and talk about all of his great monetary accomplishments. I don't have any of those things. Not that I don't have things I consider accomplishments. And I do have a little money, obviously, now that I've been working for the Adame Clan. But I don't have the lineage. I don't have all the offshore bank accounts. I don't have this script on exactly what to say and what to do on a date to some fancy place that I've probably never stepped foot in. If I wasn't me, I would probably be moping but saying that she was better off. Women like Willow deserve things that Stefan can offer her. But I don't think that.
In fact, what she deserves most is happiness. I've gotten a small glimpse into her life, into her past through both her words and her father's. It has not been an easy one, and yet, she is still an extraordinary woman. She deserves happiness. Plain and simple. And that is the one thing that Stefan nor arranged Romanian marriage can give her. The riches and the power of the Clans cannot give her this. For some reason, I am damn sure that I can give that to her.
I get up and go find some keys. I don't technically know where she's been taken, but she always has GPS tracking on her. I made sure of that when she finally asked for a new phone. One worthy of doing business as Domnisoara. How I do it is an app on my phone, and I can follow where she's gone. I don't know how Stefan or my men, her men now, will react. But I don’t really give a crap right now. I'm going to make it clear to her what I want. What she should fight for.
A drive takes me to a fancy restaurant. The kind where people can often get exclusive VIP Suites of sorts with personal entertainment or overlooking some beautiful view. I know that there is a jazz band that plays here. It is a place where atmosphere is easy to come by as well as the best of the most expensive food in the world. It's not going to look well when I make a scene in here, so I hope, I really hope that I don't have to. That my presence will be clear enough that she needs to come with me. But I'm not beyond making a scene at this point. If I get fired for this, so be it. But I just can't hold back anymore, and I just cannot let her be on this date, I can't.
I pull up to the front and quickly hand the valet my keys necessary to park my vehicle. I rush side and go straight to the hostess, slipping her a hundred dollar bill and knowing that that's going to get me what I want; to be led to where Stefan and Willow are. And sure enough, it does work, which tells me that Stefan is incredibly stupid for bringing her here. When he knows she must be in danger. Even if I’m going to let her go through with marrying some Romanian man, it most certainly is not going to be someone who doesn’t take this life seriously. I appreciated her father's suggestion for somebody that wouldn't step all over her, but she needs someone that knows their shit. And he clearly does not
I walk up behind Willow, looking Stefan right in the eye. I need him to know he’s fucked up. So that the next time he’s involved in mafia business, he doesn’t do this again.
He stands up, a fake grin on his face, but he is clearly startled. It prompts Willow to turn around and look at me, and I watch about five different emotions pass over her face before it goes cold.
“May I help you, sir?” he asks, his hand near his pocket like he might whip out his glock on me. I chuckle and show him my own, shaking my head.
“Yeah, don’t make this mistake again.” I look down at Willow, grabbing at her arm, firmly, but not rough. “You’re coming with me, now,” I tell her with authority. “It’s not safe for you here, thanks to Stefan’s stupidity.”
She scoffs and pulls her arm away, standing up and hitting me on my shoulder with her clutch. “Get out of here, Duncan, or I swear you’re going to regret it. I will give you the biggest demotion possible. I am perfectly safe here,” she says, and I roll my eyes, hitching my thumb in the direction of the hostess I just paid off.
“I just paid the hostess a hundred bucks to tell me where in this damn unsecured restaurant to find Willow Adame and her date. I am pretty damn sure that would be easy for any one, friend or foe, to copy,” I inform them both, waiting to hear Stefan’s explanation. If Willow doesn’t take my side on this for personal reasons, then I know she will for safety reasons.
She turns on Stefan and the two men who she did take with her in anger. God, she is cute when she’s angry.
“You are perfectly safe with me and these men,” Stefan dismisses, sitting back down. “Let’s sit back down and enjoy our dinner. You can deal with him afterward,” he says in his thick accent. I know for a fact that he has just said the wrong thing. He sounds like he is ordering Willow around, and he is slowly digging his own grave here.
“You and two others are not going to protect me with my back to any approaching enemies when they can walk in on us with such ease. A barrel would be to the back of my skull before you even knew what was happening. And in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t take too well to being told what I should do. I am trying to change some of these bloody traditions that put women on the bottom rung. I think it’s time you got the check,” she spits at him, turning around and glaring at me before leading the way outside. I know for a fact that was for a reason. She wanted me to know she wasn’t okay with my behavior either. This is all about her choice. The Clans are going to have a lot of fun with her, and I hope to be around to see it. See her grab some of those old fashioned assholes by the balls.
I nod to the men who came with her, and we all make it outside. I tell them to go on. “You’re coming with me,” I tell her, spotting my SUV being pulled up by one of the valet drivers.
“We sure as bloody hell do!” she yells at me, and I just grin at that sass. I hope she hangs onto that when I say what I am about to. I get her buckled into the backseat and get in the driver’s seat, pulling off onto the road.
“I wouldn’t call being alone with her so safe either,” she says coldly, but it comes out more like a bratty teenager trying to make a last-minute point to win the argument.
