Page 8

8

Cassian

T he days since my return to Blackwood Manor had felt like a life sentence in some god-awful prison. Not even the comforts of home helped lift my mood.

Dad had barely spent any time here. He was much too busy cleaning up my ‘mess’ as he liked to call it, to bother showing up for family meals. I figured my mother was probably thrilled. Not that I saw much of her, either.

On the few occasions I’d seen her leave her bedroom, a glimpse of her ghostly pallor and spaced-out demeanor had rung some serious alarm bells. The hard-faced woman who acted as her personal maid/nurse refused to tell me what medication my father currently had her on, and when I tried to check for myself, I discovered my father had changed the locks on her suite.

If he’d fitted an electronic keycard lock linked to the house’s security system, Milo could have hacked it, but the bastard was old school and my skills didn’t stretch to picking old-fashioned mortise locks.

Since it was Christmas and Dad needed Mom as an accessory when we had guests, I had to pray he stuck to his word and didn’t send her away as long as I continued to play his games.

Guests were expected for dinner this evening. Or so the housekeeper had informed me. I wasn’t sure whether my attendance was obligatory, but I assumed so. He usually liked to wheel out his son and heir.

The sex tape story had died down in the week since it leaked online. Dad still hadn’t returned my phone, but I had access to the TV in the family room, and it connected to the internet. The stupid fuck had forgotten that. Him being such a technophobe had its benefits sometimes.

I’d spent a few hours surfing YouTube and watching all the gossip channels to gain some insights into how the sex tape had been received. Most of the worst trolling was linked to Thea, naturally. She’d been called everything from a whore to Satan’s daughter for fucking me.

It was pretty fucking laughable. Landon was still a sex god, and I now had a massive online fan club, all of whom wanted to marry me and bear my children. I presumed my father’s PR agency had hired some interns to spend 10 hours a day deleting all the disgusting comments and DMs on my socials. It had to be a full-time job.

Landon was probably loving all the attention. He lived for that shit. Women slid into his DMs all the time. Some wanted to date him, but most were only interested in fucking him. It was the downside of being young, hot, and rich.

I’d not spoken to the guys since all the Thea shit went down. Milo had tried messaging and calling me on the burner, but I needed some time out to get my head together. Discovering Thea had been a backstabbing cunt had fucked with me, even though I’d suspected it from the start.

What made it worse was knowing I’d shown her a side of me nobody else saw.

How fucking stupid was that?

The staff were busy preparing for tonight’s pre-Christmas dinner party. Everywhere I looked, there were fresh flowers in vases, fragrant garlands of pine-scented greenery, and several more opulent Christmas trees.

Dad had massively gone over the top this year. Most probably to deflect from his son’s embarrassing behavior.

“Can I get you anything, sir?” Harold, our butler, asked as I reached the library door.

I shook my head, then changed my mind. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind a G&T. Heavy on the gin, no ice.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll prepare that for you.” Wandering into the library, I took a seat by the window, and a few moments later, Harold returned with my drink.

A fire blazed in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the floor-to-ceiling shelves, packed full of books.

I planned to have more than a few drinks this evening. God knows I needed a helping hand to get me through the next few days. The new semester at college couldn’t come soon enough.

Once Harold disappeared, I pulled my burner phone from my pocket. It was time to call Milo and find out what the guys were up to.

“About time,” he grumbled when the call connected.

“Everything OK?” I asked. “Are you at home?”

“No, we’re still at Abernethy.”

Christmas was less than a week away. I figured they’d all have left campus by now.

“How come?”

“We’ve been putting together a rescue plan.”

“Things aren’t that bad here,” I joked. “Dad hasn’t followed through on his threats to send me to boot camp.”

“Not you. I know you’re fine.”

I wasn’t fine, but OK. Good to know my friends gave no fucks about my welfare.

“So who then?”

“Thea, of course,” he replied, making it clear I should have known this.

“What the actual fuck are you talking about?” I gulped some more gin down, wishing I’d asked for a fucking absinthe or some of my father’s Balkan vodka. That shit soothed all pain.

“If you’d bothered returning my messages or calls, you’d know,” he sniped.

“I’ve been busy.” Not quite a lie. I had been busy.

Busy working out in the basement gym. Busy thinking of strategies to kill my father in a non-suspicious way. And very busy wishing I’d been born to some middle-class Karen on a suburban housing estate in the Midlands instead of fucking Lucian Fucking Forsyth.

God knows life would be a lot easier if all I had to worry about was whether Karen-Mom would let me borrow the Audi to take Cheryl to Wetherspoons this weekend.

“Busy feeling sorry for yourself,” Milo correctly surmised.

“Fuck off.”

“No, can’t do that, Cassian. I have shit to do. So, are you ready to listen now?”

After checking the library door was firmly closed, I slumped down on the chesterfield next to the fire. The heat warmed my toes, but did nothing to ease the tight band of tension across my chest.

“ Fine . Spill it, asshole. I’d dying to hear why you’re willing to forgive and forget the woman who tried to fuck me over.”

“She was coerced, dickhead.”

“Course she was. And I’m Madonna and Brad Pitt’s love child.” I rolled my eyes and swallowed some more gin.

I heard scuffling in the background, and then Kyril came on the line.

“Thea is the eldest daughter of Francesco di Luca, Italian mob boss,” Kyril said.

“And? No idea who he is.”

“Di Luca makes my father look like a fucking choir boy, and his second, Torrance Asaro, is a psychopath.”

“Boo hoo. So she has daddy issues.” Dad would be back soon. “Look, I don’t have time for this right now—”

“Cassian, get your head out of your ass and fucking listen!”

“Fine. Five minutes and then I need to go. Dad is due back shortly and if he finds me with a burner phone, he’ll lose his shit.”

Kyril muttered something in Russian, probably an insult, and then continued.

“Dario has filled us in on why Thea was at college.” Dario ? Color me intrigued. The Italian bastard had made it more than clear how much he hated Thea.

“Dario is the one who ratted out Thea, so why do you believe any shit he’s told you?” It made no sense. None of it did.

“Dario was working for Thea’s father. It’s a complicated mess, but he thought Thea betrayed him when they were teenagers.”

I snorted derisively. Yeah. I could relate. That shit burned. Kyril ignored me and continued.

“That’s not important right now, but what is important is why Thea felt she had to do what she did. Firstly, she was told to plant drugs, but she didn’t do it, as I’m sure you are aware, given the police raid found nothing.” OK, so he made a good point. “She wasn’t responsible for the sex tape. That was on Dario. Asaro instructed him to place cameras in your hotel room as backup, in case Thea didn’t go through with planting the drugs. He suspected her allegiance had shifted since she arrived at college.”

“OK, fine, but none of that changes the fact she lied about everything!”

“Thea’s been a victim her entire life, Cass. Her father keeps her younger sister locked in an attic and uses her as leverage to ensure Thea does as she’s told. He’s abused and beaten her since she was a kid. Forced her to do awful things. Molded her into a weapon. I get you’re pissed off but take a step back for a moment. Yes, Thea wasn’t honest about who she was, but she had no fucking choice, Cass. She got rid of the drugs Asaro gave her. She was trying to protect you!”

My heart thawed a little. I hadn’t forgiven her, but some of the shit Kyril said resonated, especially the bit about using a loved one as leverage. God knows my father was an expert at that shit. He’d held my mother’s safety over my head for years. And he’d continue to do that as long as he needed me to toe the line.

“So why does she need rescuing? From what I’ve seen, that girl can rescue herself.”

“Asaro took her from campus the night you left. We’re not sure exactly what happened but cameras picked up him carrying her while she was unconscious. Dario has spoken to his father, who says di Luca has organized a wedding between Thea and the head of the Romanian mafia, a guy called Konstantin Marku.”

“Maybe she wants to marry this guy?” I pointed out. Perhaps this Marku was her one true love.

“Seriously? The bastard is 55 and ugly as fuck. Not to mention heavily invested in the trafficking of minors. Oh, and in case you’re still not convinced she’s being forced to marry this asshole, Dario’s father says Thea’s 12-year-old sister has been thrown in as a sweetener.”

Now I felt ill. What kind of twisted father would sell his two daughters, one of them a child, like fucking camels?

“Jesus.”

“And that’s why we’re organizing a rescue mission.”

My brain kicked into gear as I assessed the many, many things that could go wrong.

“OK, but how exactly do you plan to storm a mob boss’s stronghold and rescue the princess, eh? Sounds like a suicide mission to me. Not gonna lie, I’ll miss you if you die in a hail of bullets,” I half-joked. The Russian was annoying as fuck at times, but I liked his particular brand of assholery, and he helped keep Lan in line.

“We have Declan Kelly as a silent partner on our team.” Well, that was an interesting development. I knew of the Kellys. My father had some tenuous connections with Seamus Kelly, which I’d never looked too closely at. I’d decided long ago that his shady business deals were none of my concern. And besides, since the crackdown on organized crime, I figured he and the Kellys were no longer on speaking terms. None of that explained why Declan Kelly was willing to help Thea, though.

Just as I was about to question him further, I heard the low rumble of my father’s voice outside the library.

“Gotta go, Dad’s back,” I hissed before disconnecting the call and shoving the phone behind a First Edition of Wuthering Heights. I’d pick it up later.

When Dad strolled in, he found me sprawled on the sofa with an empty glass in hand. He frowned, but for once avoided castigating me.

“Cassian.”

“Father.” Had our relationship always been this cold?

“Since you’ve behaved yourself this week, I’ve decided you can have your phone back.” He pulled my iPhone from his messenger bag and tossed it at me.

“Thanks,” I said with a forced smile. “I appreciate that.” Great. I probably had ten million DMs to catch up on.

“Dinner will be served in an hour, so please make sure you’re in the drawing room by 7 PM. We have a couple of special guests this evening.”

My bullshit antenna twitched. This didn’t sound like a fun time for me.

“Of course. I’ll be there.”

He glanced down at my pants and unbuttoned shirt. “And tidy yourself up. You look like a homeless urchin.”

“Yes, Dad.” I rolled my eyes, which provoked a glare, but once again, he kept his cool. His temper had been on a hair-trigger all week, yet now he was being Nice Dad? Something was definitely going on with him.

It wasn’t my main concern, however. With all the bombshells from Kyril, I was more worried about Thea. Yes, she’d fucked me over, but maybe I’d overreacted. If what Kyril said was true, she was in deep shit.

There was no chance of me escaping from here until the New Year, but I could at least offer logistical support.

A Russian accent caught my attention as I eased into the drawing room a couple of minutes past 7, my Armani jacket and diamond cuff-links in place.

Dad stood by the fire, talking to a large man with a svelte blond on his arm. The blond turned in my direction and blatantly checked me out while her companion leaned in toward my father. I’d not met either of them before, but her shameless ogling while she was with another man - her husband, maybe? - gave me the ick.

“Ah, Cassian.” My father looked up a few moments later and threw me his trademark smile. The smile that routinely charmed the panties off the wives of visiting dignitaries. “I’d like you to meet our special guests, Vasily Orliov and his lovely wife, Ekaterina.”

My jaw dropped. Why was Kyril’s father and step-mom in our house? Associating with a known Russian mafia boss was dangerous as fuck for a man like my father. It was a massive risk inviting him here.

But now wasn’t the time to ask him, so I pasted on an obligatory smile and sauntered over, snatching a drink from one of the uniformed serving girls on the way.

“Father,” I said, tilting my head in greeting. “Mr. Orliov, Ekaterina, the pleasure is all mine.” I shook Orliov’s hand and then Ekaterina’s. She pressed closer, making it clear she found me attractive. To my surprise, her husband seemed oblivious. Or maybe he didn’t care. It was hard to tell.

“I hear from Kyril you and he are friends,” Orliov rasped in a thick accent. The man wore his bulk well, still thickly muscled despite being in his early 50s. He was dark, like Kyril, with tattoos peeking out from the neck of his black shirt.

An air of menace clung to him, a reminder not to piss the man off. Sure, my father had invited him here, presumably to discuss some shady business deal, but from what I’d gleaned from Kyril over the last year, Vasily Orliov was not a man to mess with. He liked to act the part of a playboy Oligarch in the press, but beneath the ostentatious wealth lay a cunning criminal mind.

I sipped my champagne and then nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”

“Kyril is such a good boy,” Ekaterina simpered, licking her lips.

“He works hard.” In the gym, at least. As far as I knew, he didn’t put much effort into his studies, but that was mostly because his father constantly called him away on mafia business. The poor fucker spent more time chasing around the country than he did in class.

“I look forward to seeing Kyril again. We are overdue some family time,” Ekaterina continued.

“My wife has a close relationship with my son.” Orliov gazed at Ekaterina adoringly. “I’m happy they have formed such a strong bond.” Was he for fucking real? When he was drunk one night, Kyril revealed how Ekaterina had groomed him as a teenager. The sexual assaults only stopped last Christmas when he finally had enough and fought back. I have no idea what story she told Vasily to explain her injuries, but he must have swallowed it because there were no repercussions.

“I’m sure he can’t wait to catch up with you both,” I lied.

A bell rang and Harold appeared in the doorway, rocking his usual somber expression.

“Dinner is served, Sir.”

We made our way into the dining room, where I discovered some kind soul, probably my father, had arranged for me to sit next to Ekaterina. The moment I sat down, I felt her hand on my thigh. Deftly removing it, I turned to her and whispered,

“Touch me again, and I’ll tell Kyril. Are we clear?”

Color leeched from her cheeks and she pulled away, clearly surprised I knew all about her twisted pedophilic tendencies.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she stammered before grabbing a glass of champagne and guzzling it down.

My father looked across the table at me and then Ekaterina. His mouth flattened in displeasure, letting me know upsetting her had pissed him off, but tough fucking shit. I wasn’t about to let her paw me all evening. Not with her husband less than five feet away.

Unwilling to talk to Ekaterina, I turned to the woman on my other side and made polite conversation. Mrs Bartholomew, the trophy wife of a corrupt city banker, had zero intelligence but was happy to chatter away about banal topics like reality TV and music, so it wasn’t so bad.

Still, when a server offered to refill my champagne, I almost snapped his hand off. Alcohol was the only way to make this evening tolerable. Thank God Dad had brought out the good stuff. I fucking needed it.