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Chapter Six
Willow
It feels weird, in fact, even weirder than weird to be back here, if that’s even a thing. It’s almost like I’m having some out of body experience. As if I’m actually in a movie theater watching my life play before my eyes. I know it’s real, but at the same time, it feels like it can’t be real. I guess that just means that I’m in shock. Shock that I’m back in London, in my father’s townhome. Father…if that’s even what I can call him. He’s more of a sperm donor, a very rich and dangerous sperm donor.
Through my entire life I never could figure out where my place was in his. Until the day that I did, it was much simpler then I thought. Turned out I was overthinking it, per usual. There was never a place for me in his life and there would never be. I’m the bastard child he never planned for, a child he had out of wedlock with a woman who was much his junior. It wasn’t about her age, though, her race had a major factor in how our relationship has always been. He was the type of father who paid for things and showed up the few times a year where he felt it mattered. I didn’t need a birthday or Christmas, Dad. I needed an actual Dad. One that I could call for advice, or lean on his shoulder when I needed it. I never had that with him, and I know that I never will.
I glance around my bedroom, one that I haven’t seen in years, and take in a deep breath. There are so many memories here, and awful ones at that. It hasn’t changed a bit. The same deep green wallpaper runs across the space, a beautiful tree fans out over the length of the wall. A Willow. My father had told me as a child that this was my room, so it would be deemed fitting of my name. He took that to heart, or so his decorator did.
I get up and take a look at my phone shocked when I see that it’s well into the afternoon. Jetlag will do that to you, though, I suppose. I don’t rush one bit as I check my wardrobe, and when I open it, I can’t say that I’m shocked. It’s fully stocked, which tells me that my dear Father has planned on me being home for quite a while. I grab a pair of black slacks, dark blue top and head into the en-suite bathroom to take a shower before I go downstairs and speak to Voldemort himself. I need to have a clear head and a shower should help me with that a bit I think. There’s no easy way to see your father again after years in any circumstance, but when your circumstances are mine…well, I’d say that makes it a little messy.
No sooner than I’m out of the shower with a towel around my head, a loud rap comes to my door. “Domn is requesting to speak with you, Miss. Adame.”
I roll my eyes and huff at whomever is on the other side of the door. “It’s Kim!”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m a Kim, not an Adame,” I growl. I’ve always gone by my mother’s last name, never have I gone by my father’s. It put a target on my back so to speak even when I was a child, but for different reasons. My siblings didn’t really care for me much, so my personal business was spread around town pretty quickly, and even when I was going to my school before Mum died, I was being bullied horribly.
I take the towel off my head, tossing it on the floor below me. For a split second I think about changing into the slacks and blue shirt I pulled out of the wardrobe, but fuck it. I’m not in the mood. In fact, I’m in the mood to be comfortable, and so I shall. I walk over to the wardrobe and pull open a drawer, it’s filled with pajamas. I simply grab a pair and slide the bad boys on before I go to the door of my room and open it. Much to my surprise, my father’s goon is still here. “He’s waiting for me in the study I assume,” I say clearly as I get a nod in confirmation from his man.
I enter the hallway and make my way down the grand staircase, turning sharply until I approach his study. Not bothering to knock, I waltz right in. If he wants to see me this badly he’ll stop whatever it is that he’s doing. He’s inconvenienced me – literally ripped me from the life I’d built for myself in Australia. From my fucking bakery. Asshole.
“What do you want?” I hiss out in as lethal as a tone that I can muster up. I want him to know just how unhappy I am to be here. I don’t give a damn if what Duncan said is the truth. Even if those men were there to kill me, at least I’d be happy and dead instead of alive and angry. What kind of life am I truly going to live if I only feel like a prisoner? Can someone answer that question for me?
“For starters, I’d love to know how you’ve been.” His voice is shaky, and he coughs near the end into a tissue. I didn’t take a good look at him until now. He’s in a wheelchair, some sort of motorized one at that. He’s very thin, so thin that I can see his bones in his cheeks and down his neck as well. Is he ill? He’d never been this thin before, always has been the type of man to snag two biscuits with his tea instead of one. If I remember correctly, he had a good pot belly before I left for Australia.
“Save me the luxuries. I’ve been surviving and doing a damn good job at it. Get to your point. You nor I want to waste time, Father.”
He chuckles lightly before it turns into a coughing fit, “I suppose you’re correct. Time is of the essence.”
I walk further into the room before he looks up at me and lifts his hand. “Shut the door, will you? This is a conversation we best have in private.” For some reason I don’t find the urge to argue with him. Almost like I know whatever is coming isn’t good, so I turn around and shut the door before I turn my attention back to him. “I’m dying, Willow, it could be tomorrow, a week from now, or maybe, if I’m lucky, a month. There have been obvious threats against you for quite a while which is why I had Duncan, Marcos, and Harris watching you these past few months. All of my children have been killed because of their affiliation with the Clans, and I would be damned if I let something happen to you as well. It’s my one job on this Earth to protect you, so I’d do anything in my power to make sure you’re safe. It’s why I let you go to Australia, because given the circumstances at that time…you flying across the world was the safest thing for you to do. Now we’ve come to a point where things are tricky. My condition has been made aware to the fellow clan leaders, our King and Queen know that I could die at any given moment, and thanks to Mariana, the Queen of the Clans…there have been recent changes to the hierarchy. Before, your husband would assume all power even though you’d be the reason he had it in the first place. Now women are given equal power as the men are, only when you marry your husband will help you rule your Clan. You are the only heir to the Adame Clan, Willow. I know this is something you’ve never asked for, but regardless, it is your duty. You are my daughter, and you must take this from me.”
“I must not do anything,” I tell him, shaking my head. “I’m a pastry chef. I bake. I own a bloody bakery. I am not a mafia queen!”
“No, you are not a queen. You are a princess, poppet. If I had the option of keeping you from having to take this power, I would, but we don’t have an option. I’m dying, Willow. There are no other Adames alive. Our clan will not die with me. It will continue with you. You will make sure things are done the right way. Willow…I know we have not had the best relationship, but you will make them see the new world for what it is. I see you being friends with Mariana and bringing light into an old world. I see you creating change, the type of change that we need. I am only sad that I will not be here to witness it.”
“I am not the woman you think I am,” I strongly tell him. He doesn’t even know me. Granted, he was never around enough to get to know me.
“Yes, you are. You’re more than I imagined you to be, and before you start losing your mind, calm down. I have thought this through, and I only feel comfortable with you taking the seat as Clan leader with a strong Romanian man by your side. You need to get married as soon as possible. I would never allow you to go in blind. You will have someone beside you who knows how we operate and conduct our business.”
I blink my eyes, eyeballs almost shooting out of my head. “Excuse me. What did you just say?”
“You won’t be doing this alone.”
“No, you informed me that I’ll be getting married.”
“Yes, you will. To a Romanian man, preferably one from a head clan. Maybe a younger brother, but someone who understands how things are done.”
I shake my head back and forth. “Do you realize that you just contradicted yourself? You told me how you believe I will lead the change that needs to happen amongst the clans alongside Mariana and yet you tell me that I must marry a Romanian man. How is there any change in that? How is that not something we would have done in the past? I don’t have to do anything, and I most certainly don’t have to get married to someone who is used to old ways. If you truly want me to be a part of change, Father then you need to accept change in the first place.” I stare at him sternly before I walk out of the study and go through the halls of the home I once called mine. This is all so much to take in and I need the breather.
