Page 13 of C is For Corruption (Horsemen #3)

Leighton

My head throbbed and even lying on my back, I felt dizzy.

Keeping my eyes closed to stave off a wave of nausea; I mentally took inventory of my body and senses.

I felt wholly uninjured, and the surface beneath me felt surprisingly soft.

Inhaling deeply, I caught a whiff of a familiar scent and cracked my eyes open in curiosity.

“Mother fucker.” I muttered as my surroundings came into focus.

“Good, you’re finally awake.” My mother drawled, drawing my attention to where she stood at the foot of my childhood bed.

“What the fuck, Cicely ?” I demanded. She didn’t deserve the respect of being called ‘Mother.’ “You better hope like hell that Joey is still breathing or we’re going to have a big fucking problem.”

“Leighton! Language,” She scolded, clicking her tongue as her face twisted in disgust. “Really that garbage you’ve lowered yourself to associating with has done a number on your manners.”

I carefully eased myself upright, placing my feet on the hardwood floor. “Right, and pulling a snatch and grab of your own son is such good manners.” I snarked. “What is this even about? What do you want?”

Her lips pursed briefly before her face settled back into a smooth mask.

“I told you when we came to that hovel you called a home. You’re to be married.

Unfortunately, word of your… situation, reached the family of your original intended and we’ve had to make different arrangements.

You will wed Ksenia Sidorov in a few days’ time. ”

“Sidorov,” I replied slowly. “You’re marrying me to a Bratva Princess? Wasn’t your whole issue with my actual girlfriend that her mother wasn’t up to your standards? How is her bloodline less desirable than the fucking Bratva? ” My voice rose with each word until I was yelling.

My mother let out an exasperated sigh and pretended to wipe lint from her shoulder.

“The Sidorov’s are established, they come from old money.

Their illegitimate dealings aren’t quite what we desired in a match for the Laurent heir, but they are wellbred and understand our world in ways someone from the slums could never.

The darker parts of their business may even suit you well, given your… disposition.”

“And what do you and Daddy Dearest get out of this deal?”

“It’s not what we get, darling. It’s about our legacy. Once you and the Sidorov girl produce your own heir, our line will be forever tied to one of the most powerful families in the country.”

“I’m pretty sure you need me to agree for any of this to happen.

” I said. “I told both of you when you showed up in my home unwelcome and unannounced that I was with Victoria. When I decide to get married it will be to her. I’m not your little puppet anymore, you can’t control me like you used to when I was a child. ”

“Is that so,” my mother replied with a sly smirk. “The chain around your ankle and the fact that I have a gunman keeping your precious sweetheart in his sights around the clock would say otherwise. You really didn’t think your father or I would be so stupid as to not have leverage now did you?”

I kicked my leg out, taking note of the shackle around my right ankle for the first time.

The material was lightweight enough I hadn’t noticed it over the material of my jeans, but knowing my mother, it was sturdier than anything you’d find in a hardware store.

She may have caged me, but I was calling bullshit on the rest of her threats.

If she had someone on Ma Petit , we’d have known it.

“I can see the gears in that little brain of yours turning. You don’t believe me about the girl,” she stated matter-of-factly before moving to the doorway. “Alfred, the pictures, if you would please,” she called out to the family butler, who must have been waiting in the hallway.

The elderly man who had been our family butler my entire life strode into my room wearing his usual black suit and tie.

His white-gloved hands held out a silver tray with an envelope to my mother.

She barely acknowledged the man as she took the proffered item and pulled out several photographs.

I bit back a snarl as she turned them so that I could see.

One of the photographs showed Victoria and Dawn Innocenti embracing in Dawn’s greenhouse.

“How did you get that close?” I demanded, surging to my feet and stalking toward my mother.

“I told you, darling. We made sure we had leverage.” My mother replied dryly.

“Now, if you’re quite done with your tantrum, I wanted to tell you the tailor will be here in the morning to measure you for any necessary adjustments to your tux.

Your father and I will be busy handling the other arrangements, so we won’t see you again until it’s time to escort you to the chapel.

” She turned her back to me, stepped toward the door, and paused.

“Don’t think about it, Leighton. If you attack me now, there’s nobody to ensure your sweet Victoria’s head remains intact. ”

I clenched my teeth and fisted my hands at my side.

My mother clearly still knew precisely how to control me, to keep me from lunging forward and murdering her in the middle of my old bedroom.

It took every scrap of willpower to stay rooted in place as I watched her stride confidently out the door.

She let the photos drop from her hand to the end table as if they were a parting gift, and then she was gone.

My entire body trembled with the need to commit violence as I stalked over and snatched the pictures.

Several seemed to chronicle the days between Rich’s funeral and Joey and I leaving together to check out our territory.

Part of me knew they were all taken before Craig had a chance to set up any sort of surveillance system.

The rest of me wasn’t willing to take the risk with Victoria’s life that whoever my parents had hired couldn’t access her any longer.

“Fuck it. Being a widower wasn’t on this year’s bingo card, but here we are.” I muttered to myself.

Saying the words out loud seemed to cause a plan to settle in my mind.

I’d go through with the sham of a wedding.

Killing my bride-to-be in front of her Bratva family would only end with me dead, too.

I’d have to wait until we were alone for the wedding night.

If I timed things just right, I could off the girl and slip away before anyone knew I was gone.

My parents would be left to deal with the fallout of a dead Bratva Princess.

Shit, the Russians might even do me a favor and off Alistair and Cicely for me.

I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face.

The boys would be proud. I was actually planning for once.

Planting a sloppy kiss on one of the closer-up photos of Victoria’s face, I strolled back to my bed and plopped down. My stomach rumbled just as I considered how I would entertain myself until I could put my plan into motion.

“Yo, Jeeves!” I called out. “You still in the hall?”

I snorted as the butler moved to stand in my doorway. “Yes, young master. Your mother ordered me to stay nearby in case you needed anything.”

“Don’t call me ‘master’,”

“Of course, young master.”

“Dude, what did I just say?”

The elderly butler jerked back as if I’d slapped him before quickly regaining his composure. “My apologies, Sir. How may I be of assistance?”

“I’m hungry. Go make me a sandwich or something.” I adopted my haughtiest tone and flapped my hand at him in dismissal.

“Yes, Sir. Very good, Sir.” he simpered as he retreated from my room.

His statement that my mother had ordered him to stay nearby was a threat as much as a warning.

The man had reported every little thing I’d done to my mother starting the day after she’d murdered Angelica.

I couldn’t even take a piss without her knowing how strong and steady the stream was.

His reports to her had been directly responsible for a few of my more intense punishments.

I wouldn’t be surprised if it were something he said that led to my parents putting me out in some twisted attempt to teach me to control my urges.

It would be fun making his life hell for the next few days.

I strolled around the perimeter of my room and then into the ensuite bathroom, determining just how much chain my mother had left me.

I could easily access both spaces, which meant I could step into the hallway, though I wouldn’t get far doing so.

The sound of metal on metal as I moved had me searching for the anchor point next.

Several steps and a few kicks later, I’d pushed my bed aside and stared at a narrow grate bolted to the floor.

As I moved closer, the chain slid between the slats, a step away, and links slid out.

I was about to start pulling the chain out as I stood over the grate to figure out how far below the chain was secured when I heard footsteps coming down the hall.

I shoved my bed back haphazardly and flopped onto my back on the soft mattress just as Alfred appeared in the open doorway.

“I can tell from all the way over here, that sandwich is a travesty.” I snipped, snatching a pillow from the top of my bed and throwing it in his direction. “Make it again, Tweedlepot!”

Alfred bowed, the muscles in his face twitching as if he were fighting the urge to sneer at me. “As you wish, sir.”

The moment the sound of his footsteps disappeared, I started searching my old hiding spots for anything that might work to remove the bolts, keeping the grate under my bed in place.

I tore the room apart, tossing old knick-knacks and mementos to the floor, pulling open drawers, and dumping the contents into the ever-growing mess, finding absolutely nothing.

My mother must have swept the room and found everything before she had me brought home.

Growling in frustration, I slammed the last empty drawer shut as Alfred reappeared in the doorway, startling me.

“Fucking hell, Waddlesby. Warn a man when you’re about to sneak up on him!” I snapped. I looked at the silver serving platter where he’d plated a new sandwich. “And seriously, generic white bread? What do I look like? A fucking soccer mom? Make that shit again, and make it right this time!”

“Yes, sir.” he replied tersely, backing out of the room.

I waited until he was out of earshot and moved my bed again.

Testing the bolts with my hands was futile, but I had to try anyway.

A few attempted twists and tugs, and I was satisfied that my mother had covered all her bases—an unfortunate obstacle to any plans I might have made to escape before the wedding.

Putting the bed back, I laid down to think.

I could practically hear Joey teasing me about it hurting my head as I worked through a real plan to become a widower and get back to Ma Petit on my wedding night.

All before the consummation, because I may have been a lot of things, but I was not a fucking cheat.

Alfred returned with a third sandwich, and I took it without a word. An idea popped into my head as he strode toward the open door.

“Yo, Bibblesworth. Pick up this fucking mess.” I demanded, gesturing to the disaster I’d created in my room.

Under normal circumstances, Alfred would have sought out the maids to pick up after me.

The fact that he instead bent down and began picking up items off the floor told me I had been correct about him spying on me for my mother.

A sinister smile split my face as I watched the older man work.

I would make his life hell for the next few days, and I knew just where to start.

“For fuck’s sake, Wrinklebottom! If you’re going to clean, make sure you do it properly. You can’t just put things away all willy-nilly! Fix it, now. ”