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“Well, I don’t think it was a defeat. We know the butcher is sly. Let the fox slink back to his cave and stew on our proposition. We know his games and have our hounds set on him. He’s the one hunted, not us.”
“So poetic. That’s the woman in you,” my father observed with only the smallest flash of humor. “I came to apologize for Claude’s behavior. Your brother is special, and you mustn’t take his fits of wrath too personally.”
I swallowed, trying to clear the sudden lump in my throat. This was going to be the same song and dance as always—the apology that followed the violent outbursts. It was so predictable. And yet my chest tightened to hear it.
“You did good tonight, ma petite.” My father approached, cupping my face between his soft hands.
A blast of icy shock flooded my body. That was...praise. Had I heard him correctly?
My father tapped my face with his right palm, the fifth time was a little harder than necessary, but it proved I wasn’t asleep. “It was a good night’s work. We shall continue, bonne nuit, Talia.”
“Bonsoir, père.” When he left, I leaned onto the doorframe of my bathroom. “Wow,” I whispered.
I could do this. The butcher’s face came into my mind. Such a strong jaw. He had a hard look about him, and his hands were large enough to crush my face. The last time there had been a conflict, he’d personally slain six of our soldiers and burnt my father’s semi-trailers to the ground. There was much the butcher had to pay for. He was malicious, and I was willingly walking right into his lair.
With a shake of my head, I took the war paint off my face before moving into my room to do my nightly push-ups and one-legged squats. I wasn’t built to be a brute, but I was lethal and surprisingly strong. My life had one purpose: to serve this house. My father needed our enemy dead, and I was the woman for the job.
Let him who desires peace prepare for war.As the butcher’s words floated through my head, I laughed, breaking my set. The butcher was a clever one with those snapping dark eyes, I would give him that. He was going to be a fun challenge. But it was important to remember what he was—his handsome face and virile body could never become a distraction.
Chapter 6 – Constantine
My home office wassoundproofed and luxurious, decorated in rich woods, with masculine touches and leather seats that were actually comfortable. Favored classical literature as well as a few philosophical tomes nested on the shelves, offering a calm ambiance. The books were important to me, and I’d ensured the fire place was gas so there was no chance of ruining my precious library with smoke or sooty odors.
I chinked the cubes of ice in my tumbler and watched the dregs of my bourbon splash against the side of my cup. It was only my first drink, and it was in danger of being watered down because I wasn’t in the mood to consume it quickly. Unlike my cousin. Adrian was on his third. I had to hand it to him, my cousin was a ruthless sonofabitch, but he only got his hands dirty in the metaphorical sense. There’d been no blood tonight, but my hands were stained, nevertheless.
“So, you’re telling me there’s nothing fishy about that real estate development?” I summarized what my cousin had been saying for the last half hour. The marriage contract lay on the desk beside us, the laboratory having found no lethal traces on it.
“Not in any aspect I could tell. I’ll have one more report when the markets open tomorrow, but my gut feeling is that this is a shadow play.” Adrian shifted papers around before snatching his glass and shooting up to refill it. He gestured to my beverage, and I shook my head.
“I guessed as much. But I needed to be sure it was fluff.” Lifting my tumbler, I took the last sip, the ice hitting my teeth as I drained the liquid. Even chilled, the bourbon burned down my throat, a sensation I adored. The smoky hues from the charred oak barrels lingered on my palate
“So, what’s the reason he’d give his only daughter away to you?” Adrian tapped his finger against the beverage cart.
My cousin was asking the right question. “Gustave said alliance and peace. But those are things one creates with friends or apathetic relations, not enemies.”
“So it’s a trap.” Adrian walked over to the bay window and gazed across my property to the stretch of Pacific beach.
