Lovely. Like I gave a fuck about his family.
I sighed. “So I really need to get going. Maybe I’ll catch—”
There was a knock on the door, breaking my annoyance. Having no clue who could even be at my door, I walked slowly across the room and opened it cautiously without bothering to ask who it was. If this was a robbery, my hipster fuck buddy wasn’t going to be much help in protecting my ass, so my safety was all on me.
Peeking around the wood, with my heart beating due to my overactive imagination, I saw the man who should have made me slam the door in his face right then and there. But I didn’t. My fucking past was paying me a visit. A robbery would have been better. Fuck me. A hipster, a hangover, and The Past knocking on my door. Could my morning get any shittier?
“Silas Roope,” I began as I opened the door so I could see the man I hadn’t laid eyes on in at least ten or so years. I curtseyed. “Why am I so fortunate to have the gracious Mr. Roope flying across the world to see me? I trust your travels were not arduous.”
If he picked up on my sarcasm, he ignored it. Silas simply walked past me and into the room with a level of sophistication and arrogance that only he could pull off. He still wore the gray three-piece suit I always remembered him wearing. It always matched his gray hair, though, after all these years, he did have less of it—the hair I mean. His black shoes were polished to perfection, and his slacks were pressed impeccably. Not that I expected anything less from the trusted advisor of King Paul IV and his royal sons.
Silas studied my vagabond man as the poor fella quickly got his stuff together so he could leave the aristocratic energy. Not that I blamed him one bit. I wanted to flee myself.
“I see you have company, Cherise,” Silas said with his nose pointed upwards as if there were a pungent odor in the room.
“Cheri, Silas. You know I go by Cheri,” I corrected, irritated that the man still insisted on calling me by that god awful name my mother thought had sounded regal. “And why are you here?”
“My apologies. I had hoped that you had outgrown that childish nickname. I see that you may not have outgrown many things.” He clasped his hands in front of him as he scowled at my guest. “Prince Roman has sent for you. I am here to bring you to him.”
Prince Roman… shit.
The man from last night stared at me in disbelief. “Are you a princess or something?”
I rolled my eyes as Silas said, “Hardly.”
“No, I’m not. But I do need to be alone with my unexpected visitor if you don’t mind.”
“Yeah, sure. No problem,” the man said as Silas turned and examined Mr. Tequila Man as he rushed out of my bungalow without saying another word or even acknowledging the fact that we had just fucked last night. Not that I minded that I had finally gotten rid of my vagabond fuck buddy.
“Interesting company you surround yourself with,” Silas said in that judgmental tone that made me want to rip his eyebrow hairs out one by one. “I see some things haven’t changed. You really are above all this nonsense, Cherise.”
I smirked and crossed my arms. “I see some things haven’t changed for you either. You’re still the same pompous ass you always were.”
Silas’s jaw locked. “Say what you will, Cherise, but we have very little time to chit-chat. I have the pilot waiting for us to depart immediately. Prince Roman is in New Orleans right now, and I hope to deliver you soon and not keep him waiting long.”
I laughed. “Dementia must have taken hold in your old age, sir. I’m not going anywhere with you, and I don’t give a fuck about where Roman is.”
New Orleans. He was in New Orleans…
“I figured you wouldn’t. So much so, that I took necessary steps to assure that you would indeed be traveling with me today.”
I sighed, growing more annoyed by the minute. “Fine, I’ll bite. What steps have you made that I’d be so willing to just hop on a plane and fly across the world with you on a moment’s notice?”
“Ah, Cherise, where are your manners? Your mother would be appalled to find out that all those years of etiquette classes have gone to waste.”
“Save it, Silas. Are you going to stop fucking around and tell me what’s going on? Or should we just say our farewells and call it?”
“Very well,” he said with a large exhale. “Let’s continue discussing your mother, shall we? As you know, she loves living the life of the countess, though the count has been dead since you were a baby. The life of a countess is not cheap. In fact, it is quite expensive. With all the dinners, the galas, the shopping sprees, the yachts, the holidays in Bali, and simply the wardrobe alone.”
My jaw clenched, and my stomach rumbled as Silas reminded me of everything I’d left behind—or more like ran away and escaped from. That world was everything I hated and wanted no part of. But my mother was different. She loved it. That rich and famous lifestyle was what she lived for. It defined who she was. It was all she really had after my father died. One could say she had me, but she wasn’t really mother material. She wasn’t an awful mother, and I loved her, but she saw me more as a friend rather than someone to parent and offer guidance to. Maybe that was one of the reasons I liked to fuck vagabonds. I never had someone in my life telling me that it was a very bad idea. I never got the vagabond warning.
“Why are we discussing my mother?”
“Well, I’m not certain if you are aware of the countess’s financial holdings or not. It was several years ago that Prince Roman felt the need to step in and stop your mother’s estate from going into foreclosure. He bought the house and even threw in a monthly stipend to assist in her lavish lifestyle.”
“What are you talking about? Why would Roman buy her house? And how do I not know about this?” Confusion and anger were combining inside of me, forming a cocktail that tasted like like bile.
Silas shrugged. “How you and your mother communicate is none of my concern. Maybe if you weren’t gallivanting around in third world countries, you would have realized that your mother has overspent and most certainly overindulged.”
I had no idea. No idea at all.
“Are you saying that my mother is completely broke?”
“Yes, completely. She has been for many years.”
“So, Roman stepped in and saved the house?” It didn’t seem like something Roman would do. Prince Roman cared about one person and one person only. Himself.
Silas shrugged again and then straightened his tie. “You say saved, I say purchased. His reasons are unknown. But regardless, he owns the estate, and has been giving her an extravagant allowance for years now.”
“Why?”
“Does it really matter why?” Silas paused as if I were going to answer him. When it became obvious I wasn’t, he continued, “What does matter is that I manage the finances of some of the royal family, including Prince Roman’s. And if you were not to accompany me to New Orleans, I may have to deem the expenses incurred by the countess as frivolous and fiscally irresponsible. I may also have to be forced to find tenants for the estate who are able to pay rent rather than slumming such as your mother is now.”
“Unless I go to New Orleans with you? That’s all you want?” I asked, confused as to what the real reason was for Silas’s visit. “Why were you sent to bring me to Roman?”