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CLARA
“Why, Tata? Why?” I asked, with a bit of a wail in my tone as I sat cross-legged on my bed, surrounded by stuffed animals. I kept them around because my younger brother found comfort in them when he was in my room. I was in a rare moment of rest, wearing a pair of sweats and a crop top, my hair in a messy bun, my face scrubbed free of makeup. Picking up the violin my brother left for me, I began to tune it.
It sounded distinctly like a whine to my ears, but dammit, Nicu’s plan was going to upend my life. He tried to tag on a so-called apprenticeship at the end; as if anything could validate this crazy-ass plan of his.
Even worse was when I found myself alone with Tatum in the near-empty hallway. It was a moment of baffling weakness. The feelings of rage and impotency must’ve provoked the desperate urges in my body when Tatum wrapped his fingers around my throat and growled at me. His huge dominating presence enveloping me, his spicy scent weaving its unholy sinfulness around me, his hand collaring my throat, taking control—all of it upended my self-control. I almost gave in to the urge to pull up my skirt, drag my panties down to my ankles, display my ass to him, and beg him to smack it.
I wiped a hand down my face.
Christ. What was wrong with me?
Sure, I read my lion’s share of BDSM romance and watched porn. I mean, how else did a girl doing her best to stay a virgin get satisfaction but for her own hand, a drawer full of sex toys, and porn? I accepted that my tastes diverged from the average woman, but I’d never had them triggered by a man before. And for it to be Tatum, of all people, was unacceptable. Not only was I left feeling an achy pulse between my thighs, but I was infuriated by Nicu’s plan, a plan my father gave his stamp of approval. I was forced to leave LA for some godforsaken, ugly East Coast metropolis. I’d never find a decent fish taco in that concrete jungle. And I might as well say adios to an In-N-Out cheeseburger. Ugh, I was so frustrated and angry and powerless I could’ve screamed.
I might be twenty-one years old, but I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed at my father.
Handmade bespoke British tailored suits were strewn across the floor of my chaotic bedroom. My father teased me because no other young Californian would be caught dead in one of my signature suits, but I loved them. They screamed boss lady, and I needed the ego boost when I accompanied my father on his rounds.
Every room in our spacious Spanish-style mansion was filled to the gills with furniture and objets d’art. Okay, that might be a stretch, but where some people saw bric-a-brac, I saw small decorative objects and mementos. I looked across my room as I tuned my brother’s violin. At thirteen years old, he was better than I was at my peak. Even though Adrian didn’t share our father’s genes, he was the spitting image of our father in every way that counted.
The same father who sat heavily on the bed and sighed. My heart twinged in sympathy. My father was my hero. I had witnessed the suffering he’d endured on my behalf, me and my clan. I had witnessed my mother’s betrayal.
“We have no choice but to accept. Anything else would be an insult. Nicu may look like he’s all brawn and no brains, but he’s a Lupu through and through. Inviting you to his home was a high honor, and no matter how much we may distrust them, we cannot refuse.”
“But I don’t want to live in that awful city for four months. I don’t want to be away from you and Adrian for four months. I don’t want to be away from our clan for four months,” I griped. “And for what? I’m not going to change my mind. I can’t change my mind, even if they’re the loveliest people in the world. I can’t relinquish anything to those people.”
I frowned. Could I be wrong?
No, not possible. First, because their attempt to change my mind was for the sole purpose of taking over my clan. My clan. Mine. Sebastian might be okay, but Nicu was a dolt, and there was nothing redeemable about Tatum.
Nothing, I thought as I plucked the string of the violin to hear whether it was tuned.
A shiver worked its way up my spine at the thought of him. The way he looked at me with his dark, inscrutable eyes. He might look like an oversized blue-blooded Anglo, but his eyes spoke of something wild and dangerous. They spoke of a wilderness teeming with wolves, boars, and savage animals, like the mountains of Moldova where my family originated.
If I didn’t know better, I’d guess his eyes came from an entirely different hereditary tree. They didn’t match the rest of him. It was as if his Adonis features came from one place and his eyes came from another distinct place, and “never the twain shall meet.”
Except in him…in him, they came together with devastating effect. A man as gorgeous as Tatum had to be a player. For a quiet man, he still managed to ooze confidence, like he knew his worth and he didn’t care if anyone else noticed. Just from the way he moved, it was obvious he was skilled in bed. Even a virgin like me could tell.
Fanning my face, I distracted myself by grabbing lip gloss from the makeup scattered across my night table and swiped my lips. It was best not to spend time thinking about a man as unattainable as Tatum Lupu. I pressed my lips together, smearing the lip gloss around, and then smacked them together. Even at home, without my bad-bitch makeup and my boss-lady clothes on, I had to slather something on my lips.
I know what people whispered behind my back. Virgin Queen. They used it as an insult, but I thrived on the title. I was given that nickname because everyone knew of my father’s requirement: I’d never have a husband. My life was my clan. If I expected to take the mantle, this single most important condition must be met. Men would vie to marry me for the sole purpose of taking over, so he cut them off at the knees by prohibiting it, warning that if I got married, I’d never inherit the crown. But I knew the real motivation behind his decree: my mother’s treachery.
It wasn’t just Tatum, and the delicious emotions he drew out of me, that made me want to hide under the covers. I dreaded the thought of living in New York City. It was a dirty, filthy city. I hadn’t escaped cold Romania and moved to paradise just to be thrust back into a grimy urban center. New York was crowded and people were rude. What little that was quaint or picturesque would be gone by the time I got there in late October. All the pretty leaves will have fallen from the branches, leaving everything barren and drab.
“Can’t we place this on hiatus until spring, at least?” I looked pleadingly at my father.
He shook his head, an indulgent smile on his lips.
Patting my hand, he said, “It’s only a few months, draga mea. Look at it as an educational opportunity. You will be in the bosom of one of the most powerful families in existence. Learn from them. They are what we aspire to be. I may not want the Lupu clan to take over, but do not think I do not respect them. Alex is a genius, having built on his father’s legacy and expanded across the country. Absorb as much as you can from him.”
Again, it was obvious he wasn’t budging.
Adrian sauntered into my bedroom and lounged over my bed with his long, gangly body, his doe-brown eyes on me. My heart gushed with overwhelming love whenever I looked at my beautiful brother. I’d protect him with my life.
I turned an accusing eye on my father. “I’m going to miss him. He’s never been without me.”
“He’ll be fine,” my father assured me with a dismissive wave of his hand.
I was like a mother to Adrian since our own mother vanished a few years after giving birth to him. He didn’t come from my father’s loins. He was the only good thing to come from her deceit, the affair she had with my father’s consilier and best friend.
