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He poured himself another shot of whisky and offered me one, but I declined.
“Because you know me.” His eyebrow lift spoke volumes.
“By that, you mean my knowing of your hunger for young flesh?”
Yep, he sounds like a fucking cannibal. More like a devourer of souls.
“That’s part of it, of course.” He relit his cigar. “I’ll reciprocate, of course. You can screw whoever you like. Only it must remain clandestine.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then the world will learn how you’ve been pulling tricks for money. Which includes me. You led me on. All that silliness about me having to pay you millions.”
“That’s a fucking lie!” I leapt off my chair and planted my fists on my hips.
“Keep your voice down,” he growled.
“You’re not my fucking father,” I snapped.
“No, I’m not. I’ve met him. He’s nothing like me.”
I fell into the seat, and my jaw dropped. “How have you met him? Where is he? I’ve been looking for him.”
He took a sip and wiped his mouth. “Easy to find. He’s a kept man who sends out his high-powered lawyer wife to work while he sits back and does little.”
“You’ve met him?” I couldn’t believe it. “Where is he?”
“Notting Hill. I can give you the address if you like. I’m sure he won’t want to see you, though. When I brought you up, he flinched and asked that his past remain buried.”
“That’s because he fucking beat me, the arsehole.”
“Then why do you want to see him?”
Good fucking question. “I don’t know. He’s my father, I guess.” I sighed.
“I got the feeling he wasn’t too keen on seeing your mother.”
“Yeah, well… that doesn’t surprise me. They weren’t exactly compatible.”
That image of my father’s hands around my mother’s throat after discovering her fucking for money came to mind. That was the final straw. He left us after that.
“He didn’t expect to marry a whore, I suppose.” He grinned, clearly enjoying himself.
I shook my head and sprang up. “You have no right to discuss my family. And I’d prefer to beg on the streets in tattered clothes than marry you.”
“But you will marry me.”
His snaky smile made my skin crawl. I sensed he had more in his arsenal with which to destroy me.
“Why are you even here?” I had to ask. “I don’t get it. Isn’t London a bigger oyster for you? My Cherry stands out here. People hate it.”
“You’re turning it into a mockery and something sordid by calling it that.”
“Well, excuse me, but a bunch of horny old men chasing virgin pussy is just that. I thought it was rather apt. And where’s your sense of humour in all of this?”
“Hmm…” he grunted. “I’m here because of the prestige that comes from associating with old money, and the Lovechildes are of the finest pedigree. Though I question the marriages all three children have made. Lovechilde offspring marrying commoners was never in Caroline’s narrative.” He smirked. “She even came crying to me after Declan fell for that maid, then Ethan followed suit by marrying a hippie. She didn’t seem to mind Carson, though. I suppose having someone looking after her damaged daughter played into that.”
“Inbreeding makes unhealthy kids. And English aristocracy is famous for inbreeding. Something you wouldn’t know about, since I imagine, like me, you sprang from some dark seed.”
