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"She will probably leave him after this kind of behavior."

He stormed off at the last comment to his study and poured himself another glass.

He had very well ruined the reputation he had struggled to build over the past month with Victoria’s help but he didn’t care. Not one bit.

"What was that behavior, Anthony?" His mother scolded storming into his study. "Why would you just yell at everyone to leave? Is that how I raised you?"

Her yelling sent a wave of pain through his head and he knew if he didn’t attempt to postpone the conversation, he might transfer his pain to her and she didn’t deserve that.

"Mother." He sighed looking into her eyes from where he sat at his desk. "Please can we speak tomorrow?"

"Anthony..."

"Please, Mother." He begged.

She still looked ready to scold the hide off his back but nodded.

"I will be waiting to hear your justification for your behavior tomorrow but until then I do hope you realize the implications of what you have done."

"Mother." His sister, Mirana, chided. "Save your scolding until tomorrow."

He smiled thankfully at his sister and leaned back in his chair.

"I am sorry I am not a better host tonight, sister." He apologized. "We shall speak tomorrow."

She smiled and nodded and led their mother out of the room, leaving him in blessed silence and solitude.

The offending letter sat proudly on his desk, mocking him and as a man who had developed a sudden love for torture, he read over it again. This time, anger didn't rise in him but intense sadness as his demons mocked him for thinking someone could ever love him.

He had just been a means to keep her sister from his hands and even though she had seemed to care, it had all been a farce.

Memories of her loud, unpracticed laughs when he said anything remotely funny and her soft sultry smile when she imagine something naughty.

He groans at how he misses her despite how she had hurt him and chooses to drown his sorrows in alcohol. Hopefully by morning he would have completely forgotten her.

ChapterTwenty-Two

Victoria woke up feeling unbelievably heavy with sleep even as she struggled to fight the fog that clung to her mind.

As she shifted, the sheets beneath her rustled and she frowned in confusion.

This… was not her bed.

This was not even her room.

The air here was different, cooler mixed with the faint scent of aged wood and something unfamiliar, a subtle musk that didn’t belong to her familiar home.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open, and she blinked against the dim light filtering through thick curtains.

Thick burgundy curtains

Not cream, sheer flowing curtains

Where am I?She thought to herself.

Her heart began to quicken, a low, erratic, thrum in her chest as her eyes roamed around the room.

It was not immediately recognizable, and yet... there was something faintly familiar about it.