Uriah pictured it perfectly, how he would lean across the table and slash his claws across the cruel prick's throat for trying to throw Ivy off her rhythm by saying things no father should ever say to their child. Uriah tightened his arm around her waist, and though Ivy leaned back to accept his love and support, she didn't miss a beat.
“Should my brother wish to begin a relationship with me, you, Donnatar, will not forbid it or place any obstacles of any kind in his way. Any correspondence, conversation, or discussions of any kind between me and my twin will be considered sacred and private.
“Neither you, friend, passing acquaintance, prisoner, or random stranger, nor any agent in your employ or at your direction will harm, maim, injure, or kill my twin for any reason, no matter how ineffectual or disappointing he may be.”
At this point, Ilex chuckled and helped himself to some of the fruit on the table. It was timely, too, as his father swept out his arm and swiped every dish on their side of the table to the ground.
“Enough of this! Not another word, or so help me—”
“As to the keeping of my privacy, spies of any kind will not be tolerated. If any uninvited entity, person, spirit, or elemental of any race sent by you or any in your command is found within the boundaries of the Little Coven's property, or the property belonging to me, Ivy Green after our contract is completed, their presence will render any and all further agreements between us null and void—”
“Alright!” Donnatar bellowed. “Cursed Mab, woman, cease! I agree to your extremely detailed and damnably ridiculous terms.” Ivy didn't stop talking, continuing to read from the contract the lawyer drew up, waiting for one very special thing.
Finally, Donnatar growled. “I, Donnatar the Horned One, Lord of the Western Hills agree to the terms of the contract laid out by you, Ivy Greene.”
Without another word, Ivy smiled and rolled her papers back together. It was a damn shame they now had to sit and go through the next round of business, because Uriah had one hell of a hard-on for his unbelievably sexy, eloquently well-spoken mate.
Ivy wiggled with just the right amount of eagerness to rub her gorgeous ass right up against his painfully engorged cock, and bit her bottom lip when she shot a sexy, mischief-filled glance of triumph at him. Uriah rubbed his hand up and down her back, loving her with every breath in his body.
With her clever improvisation to ensure no matter what happened, her pops wouldn't retaliate when he realized he wasn't going to be getting what he wanted; they might just survive the day.
Things were looking up.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ivy rolled up her long roll of papers, not having even gotten to what Rowena's lawyer called 'extra minutia.' It was among the top ten most difficult moments of her life, to sit and smile pleasantly when she wanted to be jumping up and down, rubbing it in her dear father's face that he'd just agreed to the biggest set up of a lifetime.
Inside, she was whooping and cheering and jumping for joy. She wanted to be smug. She wanted to gloat. So. BAD! But she couldn't.
Ivy counted that as having won round two, but there were at least two more rounds to go, and while she might have successfully negotiated for the safety of her family, there was no guarantee Donnatar wouldn't simply say, 'fuck it and damn the consequences.'
Ivy had her deal; now, she had to get the truth. All she got in the way of celebration was Uriah's lips cruising across her temple, his arms around her, and a satisfied nod from Rowena.
Ilex smiled; he even went so far as to wink at her while their father sat and fumed petulantly.
For a being older than literal dirt, he sure could pout like a child. “Well? Get on with it, then. Ask your bloody questions.”
Ivy cleared her throat and waved her hand in front of her face. “I'm a bit thirsty after all that, and I did offer you tea. Would you like some?”
She turned to kiss her mate before regretfully sliding off his lap to reach the pitcher of hibiscus tea, chilled to perfection, with gorgeous slices of limes floating in the deep red liquid. Her father curled his lip disdainfully as he watched her pour glasses for everyone.
“That can hardly be called tea. There's ice in it.”
“I'll have some,” Ilex said with a smile, looking far more relaxed and acting much less douchey. Ivy served Rowena and Uriah first, then pushed a glass across the invisible barrier, pouring herself a tall glass last.
Her brother sipped cautiously, making a sound of enjoyment. “Very nice. Refreshing on a hot day.”
Ivy toasted him with her glass, folding her hand around Uriah's while she enjoyed a few sips of the cool drink. Her father continued to glare at her impatiently, his arms folded across his chest, fingers tapping his bicep.
His beard even puffed out a bit because he was clenching his jaw so hard, as though conveying his intention not to speak a word unless necessary.
She sighed once her dry mouth was soothed, preparing herself mentally for the answers she was about to receive. “You brought an excessive amount of armed spectators with you, father. Why?”
Uriah’s bicep turned to stone beneath her hand, and Abel gave a low growl that made her guess neither of them had scented the hidden warriors.
Donnatar tipped his head with a curious narrowing of his eyes. Ivy couldn't help but wonder if his huge rack of antlers ever gave him neck pains. “I felt it necessary in case you and your puny group of witches reacted violently to my presence.”
Hadn't been expecting a warm welcome? She could buy that. “Twenty armed warriors for a coven of six? I'm flattered. Aren't you, Rowena?”
Rowena gave a casual nod, her fingers rubbing deeply into Abel's thick black mane. “Deeply flattered.”
“If we had reacted violently, what were those big strapping fairies ordered to do?” Ivy asked calmly.
Her father gave a snort and a careless wave of his hand. “Kill everyone but you, naturally.”
“Naturally,” she echoed wryly. Ivy moved onto Abel's portion of the big plan, remembering his advice on interrogations. Ask the easy questions, then slip in a nasty one. Ask a few more nasty questions, then go back to the easy ones. Keep what Abel called 'the perp' guessing, which came next, and leave him unable to truly prepare. She knew just what to ask.
“Does having such a big rack ever give you neck pains?”
Donnatar blinked incomprehensibly. Rowena squeaked and lifted her hand to her mouth to cover any further sounds. Ilex rolled his lips under his teeth and focused intently on the contents of his glass. Uriah wasn’t so circumspect. He threw his head back and roared with laughter.
Her father seemed perplexed as to why Uriah was laughing. Ivy was struggling herself and had to suck on a lime to stop herself.
“No,” Donnatar finally said. “What do my antlers have to do with anything?”
“Nothing at all,” Ivy told him. “I was just curious. When you first met, how did my mother get in contact with you?”
A flutter of her father's long eyelashes was the only sign he gave to say he was unsure by Ivy’s line of questioning, and from the corner of her eye she saw Abel give a toothy lion's grin of approval.
“She didn't. She stepped inside a decrepit stone circle and summoned a lesser Fae using an incantation so old, I’m honestly shocked any mortal still alive knew it.