Page 29 of Her Wicked Husband (The Huxleys #2)

Bryce

“Fiona!” I scream, bursting into the suite. Fear pounds in my skull as I look around.

Mom is a sociopath. If she finds out that Fiona isn’t the girl she sent…

I don’t dare imagine the consequences. The woman didn’t think there was anything wrong with kidnapping her own children and leaving one to die in a wildfire, all the while claiming she just wanted to have a happy, intact family.

“Fiona!” The yell is half choked with shaky terror.

My eyes roam the suite. The breakfast is mostly eaten. No sound from the bathroom. A bottle of unopened Merlot on the room service cart—

I didn’t order that.

The tip of my shoe hits a corkscrew on the floor. My heart stops. A potential weapon. Who used it?

My hands tremble. I squat to study the tool, then let out a sigh of relief when I don’t see any blood on it. Not that that means Fiona is safe. It could’ve been what she picked out to protect herself with. But no blood at least means Mom didn’t use it on her .

I collected and read every tabloid account of her “glamorous” life as a wealthy woman in Nesovia.

I wanted to understand what moved her to go to that extreme to avoid divorce.

Mom claimed she merely wanted to keep our family of five together, but The Fogeys didn’t buy it.

According to them, she dazzled Dad in a whirlwind romance, pretending she had no idea who he was, to pull Huxley & Webber into her father’s empire.

Vincent wanted to expand into America and needed good lawyers who could assist.

When Dad discovered who she really was and what kind of insanity she planned to bring to the family, he initiated divorce proceedings against her. She insisted she loved him and the sons they’d had together, and it culminated in the kidnapping.

Vincent agreed to the divorce and gave Dad what he wanted, except for two points: Mom going to prison and staying away from us forever. She didn’t go, and she apparently cried and pleaded until Vincent negotiated with The Fogeys to keep her away from us for twenty-two years.

The articles I’ve read didn’t portray her in the best light. She lived like a socialite with many lovers. Whispers of abuse spread—beating lovers for displeasing her. Many of the men complained she was freakishly strong and fast.

I recall how she struggled to nab me, Ares and Josh. She wasn’t that physically capable back then.

She’s prepared for twenty-two years to retake what she thinks is hers.

I shudder at the memory of Harvey’s warning. She could’ve gotten stronger, physically and otherwise. Twenty-two years is a long time to nurture a grudge.

This time she won’t give up so easily, especially if Vincent’s sick. And even more so if she thinks she could get into trouble for killing a baby brother I didn’t even know existed.

I stand up and scan the room. A discarded robe, no shoes or trench coat. No sign of a struggle, either. A thick blackout curtain to my right shifts. I swivel, fist raised just in case. But the fight leaves me when I spot a figure huddled under the window.

Fiona has made herself as small as possible, legs folded and face lowered and hidden in her knees .

Crouching before her, I look for signs of abuse or injury. No blood that I can see. She isn’t making any sound of pain. Did she hide—and Mom somehow missed her?

Apparently she did. I inhale slowly, settling my nerves. Showing anxiety won’t help. “Hey,” I say gently. “Fiona.”

She curls up more, making herself even smaller.

“You’re safe. It’s just me.”

“Go away.” Her voice is muffled against her knees.

The sight of her huddled like a scared child makes me want to strangle Mom. I push down the anger and keep my voice soft. “Sorry, can’t do that. Let me see you.”

“See me? So you can gloat about how much you’ve messed up my life?”

An immediate denial dies on my tongue as she jerks her head up, eyes flashing. The sight of unshed tears reddens my vision. Blood seeps from a cut on her lip. She isn’t sporting bruises, but that doesn’t mean Mom was gentle. She knows plenty of ways to hurt without leaving a mark.

“Who did this to you?” I start to cradle Fiona’s face, but she turns away. My hand trembles, and I drop and clench it. “Tell me who scared you.”

“Why do you care? What are you going to do if you know?”

Her furious distrust pains me, but I have no one to blame but myself. Remorse pools like acid in my stomach. I should’ve anticipated Mom’s behavior after the encounter with Red. This is on me. “Was it my mother?”

Fiona lets out a hollow laugh. “Not entirely. Aaron found me first.”

Rage beats at my chest. That fucking weasel. “I’m going to murder that fucker.”

“Then your mother arrived,” Fiona adds woodenly. “She hurt Aaron, then threatened me with a corkscrew. Did you know she had a woman drug you last night?”

I nod.

“What happened to her?” she asks, her face taut.

“I kicked her out. I don’t want to be anybody’s pawn.”

“So you called me here?” Fiona’s breathing grows shallow and unsteady. “Knowing what could happen? That I could become a pawn instead?”

“I was too out of my mind with the drug to think that far. I was—”

She jumps to her feet, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Your mother didn’t just say hello, Bryce!

She came here to tell me that if I don’t get pregnant with your baby, she’ll kill me .

She thought I was the girl you were supposed to sleep with!

She made me show her my body to make sure we’d had sex!

If I didn’t, she was going to stab my eyeballs because I don’t need them to get pregnant!

” Her voice is shrill with helpless fury and shame.

I slowly unfold my legs and modulate my tone. “She won’t touch you, Fiona. She won’t—”

“ Yes, she will. You know why? Because the problem isn’t killing someone, it’s getting caught! And who’ll care enough to search for me if I disappear? No one. Not a single person will care .” Her last statement comes out a shaky yell. She clamps her mouth, but her chin trembles.

More unshed tears glitter in her green-gold eyes. She isn’t just saying this out of anger. She believes it deep in her heart, and Mom’s actions stirred her fear. Remorse slices my heart. “That isn’t true. I’d look for you.”

“Riiiiiight.” Sarcasm drips from Fiona’s tone. “Oh wait, you would. Because you still need to collect your two hundred and ninety-eight.”

“That’s not—”

Shaking her head, she hugs herself. “This isn’t what I bargained for. It was supposed to just be sex. Why couldn’t you have just slept with that other girl last night? I wouldn’t have cared.”

Pent-up fury erupts at her casual suggestion that I have sex with another woman and that it wouldn’t have bothered her at all. It overwhelms the burgeoning guilt. I grip her arms. “Do you think I wanted this to happen? Do you think I want to have a mom who’s this crazy?”

Fiona gives me a look that says I’m just as awful as my mom. I’d give up a kidney to wipe that expression off her face.

“You told me your mother was nice and sweet,” she says between gritted teeth. “Remember? When we were at Harvard? ”

“My step mother. Akiko. I always wished she could be my mom— my only mom —and at that time it felt like she was, because my real mom stayed away.”

“Well, she isn’t staying away now. And she won’t stay away, either.

She says she’s sending more women for you to impregnate, and that I’d better hurry up.

She even gave me this to help.” Fiona slaps a bag full of white powder on my chest. “This is supposedly more potent than what you had last night.”

I curse, trying to figure all of the angles.

Mom’s out of control. She let Lareina’s cousin out of prison to fuck Lareina up because she wouldn’t play ball.

Although there was no concrete evidence to convict Mom in court, Ares, Josh and I knew.

She will only escalate—every criminal does, for a bigger payoff, more thrills and a greater reputation.

In Mom’s case, she has to establish a rep brutal enough to make up for her lack of penis.

What Harvey said fleets through my head.

Vincent’s become more sentimental now that he’s older.

He doesn’t want anything to happen to Lareina because she’s now family.

After getting the cousin out of prison, Mom hasn’t gone after Lareina probably because she was worried about how things would look to Vincent.

I look at Fiona’s pale face. If we got married, it’d keep both of us safe. Mom wouldn’t be able to send more women because Vincent wouldn’t approve of her trying to sow discord between a newly wedded grandson and his wife. And she wouldn’t be able to harass Fiona anymore because she’d be family.

“Let’s get married,” I say.

“What? Marry you?” Fiona stares at me for several heartbeats. “ Are you fucking crazy? ”

“It isn’t that terrible.” I try not to sound insulted.

Objectively speaking, I’m a great catch.

Young, smart with a trust fund worth over two billion.

Healthy, in shape and not bad looking. Once Fiona has a moment to think it over, she’ll see that, too.

“The thing is, we’ll have to get married if we want her off our backs. ”

“Oh my God. It’s bad enough I’m stuck with you until I pay off the two million, but this ? ”

My impatience rises at her horrified expression. Perhaps she needs a starker reminder of what she’s facing. “You only have two options: me or my mother.”

Fiona slowly blinks. Twice. Then she covers her mouth, runs to the bathroom and promptly loses her breakfast.