“Diarchy?” she repeated.
“A rule of two kings,” I told her. “That happens only when two men share the same woman.”
I could see the goosebumps spreading over her skin.
“She has both their sons,” I went on.
“And she serves them both,” Olivier added.
“You’re crazy,” Amber managed. “Why… why go through with the competition then? What’s the point of all this? Why not just tell me from the beginning?”
“Because you would have said no,” Olivier shrugged. “And this way, it’s going to be more fun to see the Queen fall right after she hands the kingdom over to me. She thinks I’m her good little boy. She’ll never suspect a fucking thing. She may not like you… but she’ll accept you in the end, because she can’t deny what I want. And that’s when we’ll strike.”
“But you… I…” She was blinking fast, like a doe in headlights. She looked at me. “She’s your mother, Bruno. How can you do this to her?”
“She’s not my mother,” I ground out. “Evalina was my mother. And the Queen got her fucking killed.”
“Enough of this chatter,” Olivier snapped.
He glanced at me and I nodded in understanding.
We left Amber standing by the door, shivering and wide-eyed as we walked over to the desk. Olivier handed me a suitcase, and I placed it on the oak wood, fiddling with the lock and finally opening it.
Amber’s eyes grew wide when she saw the bills inside.
“One-hundred thousand pounds,” Olivier told her easily. “To be sent to your mother once you let us have you. A good payment for one night, don’t you think, chérie?”
“I’m not a whore,” she spat out.
“No, Amber,” Olivier told her with a grin. “You’re what you always have been. A rich man’s toy.”
I sat down on the armchair now, with Olivier standing before me and the suitcase positioned on the floor between us. The scent of money was intoxicating, but not as exciting as Amber’s pure, unadulterated lust mixing with fear.
“If you want the money,” Olivier started.
“If you want us,” I went on.
“You’d better come forward now.” My brother grinned at her.
She took a bewildered step toward us, then realized her mistake, blushing fiercely. But she didn’t step back. She stood there, scared and willing us to go on.
“Ah, Amber,” I interrupted with a sly smirk. “I think we should settle where you belong. If you want the money…”
I nudged the suitcase with cash with my steel-capped boot.
“You’re going to crawl to it,” I finished. “And don’t you dare fucking look at the ground.”
“What will it be, chérie?” Olivier ground out. “Clock’s fucking ticking…”
TO BE CONTINUED
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Come To Daddy
Brianna Hale
The best things in life are free.
The second best things are very, very expensive.
COCO CHANEL
Prologue
Misha
“You’re a fucking idiot. Why did you come back here?”
There’s so much blood. Running down my chest. On the floor. All over my hands.
“I thought it was the right thing to do.” I wince in pain as I try to sit up. Next to me lies my father, the knife still buried in his chest and his blue eyes glassy and staring.
Holy fucking hell. He’s dead. There’s a buzzing in my ears and everything at the edges of my vision goes gray.
Damir grabs a fistful of my hair and strikes me hard across the face. “No passing out. We have shit to do.”
I blink and shake my head rapidly. “I’m awake. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” he growls, ripping off part of my shirt and holding it over the six-inch gash on my chest. Fuck, that hurts. I think the wound is longer than it is deep. I saw the knife coming at the last second, the vicious downward stab that would have ended my life, and jumped back.
“If we don’t stop the bleeding you’re going to need a transfusion, and you can’t get a transfusion when we’ve got a fucking body to dispose of.” Damir takes his own shirt off and binds it tight around my chest. “I’ll stitch it up or something later, but for now, stop bleeding.”
I laugh weakly, wondering if the light-headedness I feel is from shock or blood loss. “Yes, brata.”
Damir stands up, bare-chested, surveying our father with a flat expression in his eyes. I notice there are new tattoos decorating his flesh. A dragon breathing fire over his heart. A skull on his shoulder. A thick band around his right bicep. One tattoo for every year he was missing.
“I’m glad he’s dead,” Damir says. “After tonight we’re never going to look back, Mikhail. It’s just you and me from now on. Forever.”
Him and me. The son who was loved, and the son who was not.
Free at last.
I hold my hand out to him and he helps me up. The world spins a little, but I force myself to stay on my feet. Like Damir said, we’ve got our father’s body to get rid of.
“You and me. Forever.”
Chapter One
Misha
Eighteen years later
It’s her parents’ funeral, but she isn’t crying.
The girl in the footage is a petite, pretty blonde of around twenty in a black dress and blazer and a broad-brimmed hat. She’s standing next to the priest while a stream of people shake her hand. I search their faces, trying to pick out any lawyers or investment managers among the mourners.