Page 3 of Provocation (Den of Deception #3)

I don’t tell him that he won’t have a choice in the matter. It’s better that he doesn’t know my exact plan, or when I’m going to run. Instead, I turn and brush an errant piece of hair back from his face.

‘How did you know where to find me?’ I ask, glancing back at the closet.

He smirks. ‘I always knew that was your spot.’

He takes my hand and leads me from my old room. We go past John’s, and I pause, remembering the shoe print, but Shade shakes his head.

‘I checked on the way up,’ he murmurs.

‘And?’

‘I couldn’t find any that matched the tread of the shoe from the picture taken at the scene.’

My heart sinks. ‘I could have sworn…’

He side-eyes me. ‘I wasn’t done.’

Rolling my eyes, I begin to descend the stairs slowly, as regally as I can muster. ‘Go on, then, unless you’d like your father and the Bandervilles to hear as well.’

‘I couldn’t find any.’

‘Isn’t that what you just said?’ I mutter, plastering on my fake smile in preparation for reentering the snake pit.

‘No, I mean, there were none of his Italian shoes there at all. And I know he had at least one pair because he wore them over the summer to a charity ball in New York. There are pictures of him there with April, and he was definitely wearing them.’

‘Stevens might have them for polishing,’ I murmur. ‘Before we leave tonight, I’ll find him. We don’t have time now though; we’ve been gone for too long already.’

Shade lets out a breath as we near the living room where the distinctive voice of his father can be heard. ‘Ready?’

No.

I straighten. ‘Yes.’

He opens the door for me, and I enter the room. The men stand, even Marcus. The opportunistic scumbag was taught his manners, after all. I successfully keep the sneer off my face, of course.

‘There you are,’ John says. ‘I was about to send out a search party.’

His eyes bore into me, flicking between Shade and me as if he thinks he knows something. I keep my expression bland.

‘Apologies. I got turned around. I’d forgotten how maze-like this house was. Thankfully, Jack found me.’

‘Of course,’ John murmurs with a smirk, having a sip of his Scotch and no doubt taking my words as yet more evidence that I’m an attention seeker who’s as dumb as a rock. Just as he always thought I was.

‘Joseph.’ He turns to Banderville senior who’s lighting a fat cigar. ‘There was actually a proposal I’d love for you to take a look at while you’re here. Jack, you can accompany us.’

Joseph stands easily despite the fact that he must be pushing seventy, nodding at John. ‘Is it in your new office, by any chance? I’ve heard you imported half a Chateau for the décor. I’d like to see if the rumors are true.’

John lets out a chuckle and ushers his friend toward the door. ‘The panels are fifteenth century. Second to none!’

‘I don’t see that it’s necessary that I come, Pop.’ Shade argues, moving subtly closer to me.

He doesn’t want to leave me in here alone with the two sons, I realize. I don’t want him to either, but what John wants, John gets.

‘It would be good for you to learn a thing or two about business for a change,’ my stepfather counters over his shoulder, brooking no opposition.

Shade says nothing, but I can see his jaw working in my periphery and I shut my eyes for just a second. I hear the door open and close as they leave me alone with Marcus and Joe.

‘Come and sit with us, Marguerite,’ Joe says, patting the couch between him and his younger brother.

I resist the urge to look back at where Shade was. There’s no one there, after all.

With leaden feet, I go over and sit carefully between them, trying not to touch either of them.

I stare straight ahead.

‘No need to be so uptight, Daisy ,’ Marcus croons. ‘My brother will think you’re a boring prude.’

He chuckles. ‘You should have seen her on Halloween, bro. She was a pussy cat, weren’t you, baby. Smoking hot.’

‘Really? Even more than she is now?’ Joe’s tone holds something I don’t like.

Something that puts me even more on edge. He hasn’t touched me, but it feels like an imminent threat.

‘Oh, yeah. She really loosened up, too,’ Marcus continues.

He bends forward over me, and I lean away, wondering with barely concealed alarm what he’s doing. But he’s just getting to his feet.

He smirks at me. ‘Want a glass of scotch, Daisy?’

‘I thought she doesn’t drink alcohol,’ Joe murmurs. ‘That’s what her father said.’

He’s not my father.

Marcus chuckles. ‘Little Daisy here gets up to all kinds of stuff , don’t you, sweetheart?’

I don’t look at him, but I think there’s a threat there.

‘Besides,’ he continues, ‘she can if you say she can, brother.’

I feel his eyes move off me as he turns away.

‘She’s practically yours,’ Marcus scoffs as he surveys the silver tray of fine liquors in front of him.

I swallow hard.

‘But, I forgot, you prefer vodka, right, Marguerite?’

I know I shouldn’t goad him, but after tonight’s meal and the revelations about my future, I can’t help it.

I finally give Marcus a narrow-eyed look as I stand up and follow him to the tray of crystal decanters on the sideboard. I grab a glass and pour a finger of Scotch into the tumbler.

When I turn around, I eye them both as I tip it down my throat, hoping that I don’t cough and splutter because it would ruin what I’m going for.

The alcohol burns as it goes down. I don’t like it, but I don’t let myself gasp or choke. I just regard them both, my pleasant smile playing on my lips.

‘She’s so spirited, isn’t she?’ Marcus takes a step toward me, his lips curving menacingly.

‘Enough, Marcus. Why don’t you leave me and my beautiful bride-to-be alone for a moment? Go and…look at the French castle interior that John has had repurposed for his… house .’

Marcus snorts. ‘Fine. Take your time. That maid with the huge rack was eyeing me up over dinner anyway.’

He leaves the room, giving me a wink on his way out, and Joe Banderville regards me like a wolf sighting a rabbit. He draws a hand through his black hair as he stands slowly and comes over to me, taking the glass from my hand.

I stand my ground. He puts it on the tray gently and turns to face me, towering over me, his broad shoulders making me feel small despite my four-inch heels.

His nostrils flare as he looks down at me.

‘Would you turn around and walk to the window, please?’ he asks. ‘Tell me what you see outside?’

I blink up at him and do it, almost without thinking. I tell myself it’s because I want to be away from him and not because of some submissive obedience that The Heath’s rules instilled into me over a decade.

At the window, I look out over the garden that’s lit by strategically placed lights.

‘I see John’s tiered gardens. The hedge. The lights along the paths,’ I say.

I feel him come up behind me slowly and see his eyes roving over me in the reflection of the glass. He moves so quickly that I don’t register what he’s done until my body is up against the freezing glass and he’s holding me there with my skin pressed to the pane.

The glass is cold. Hard.

Skin burning.

My senses flicker, my brain stuck in a loop around the way the glass feels for a good few seconds.

I finally gasp and open my mouth to scream, but he puts his hand over it.

‘I wouldn’t bother. I was advised to make sure you knew your place by your father.

No one will come, but they’ll know. It’ll be very embarrassing for you when you next see our fathers and they’re able to guess I had to punish you in here.

We Bandervilles like to keep these unfortunate domestic necessities out of the spotlight and behind closed doors where they belong. ’

‘John’s not my father,’ I grind out from behind his hand.

Joe lets out a short laugh as he moves it away and I feel his body pressing against mine.

‘You don’t know me or my family,’ he says, keeping me in place easily when I try to struggle.

I feel his fingers trace the collar of my dress at the back and I press myself into the freezing windowpane to escape his touch even though that’s its own brand of torture.

‘You’re very beautiful,’ he murmurs too close to my ear.

‘To be frank, your mental deficiencies aren’t what I would have chosen for myself.

Not for the woman I marry and produce heirs with.

John seems to believe that, if caught early enough, they can be punished out of our children though, and my father is set on the idea of a connection between our families.

’ He chuckles. ‘So, I guess we’ll just have to make the best of it. ’

His hands run down my sides and I cringe. The same as in the games room with his brother, I don’t know what to do. I’m frozen against the wintery glass in more ways than one.

‘The elusive Marguerite Novelle will be my wife,’ he murmurs almost to himself.

‘I’ve heard the stories. John said you’ve been taught how to exist in our circles without being an awkward social pariah and it seems that he was telling the truth if dinner was anything to go by.

Not one faux pas. I suppose there’s that at least.’

He moves against me, trapping me between the glass with his body.

‘Tell me,’ he whispers. ‘What would you do if I grabbed you by the pussy right now?’ His hand snakes around to my abdomen and I flinch.

‘I killed someone for less!’ I blurt.

He freezes. ‘I knew it was true,’ he says quietly.

His laugh is low as he finally moves away. ‘But who hasn’t, darling?’

I think it’s over, but as I push myself off the window, he grabs me by the scruff of the neck and throws me over the high back of the nearest couch. My legs flail, but even in my heels I can’t reach the floor. I’m stuck.