Page 12 of Tormented Heir

“He might. Initially.” I’m thinking fast, now. “Until he gets the letters that are still back at the house, with instructions to deliver them to him and the priest, if anything happens to me.”

“You little bastard. Blackmail is a sin.”

I laugh, and it sounds ancient, not the laugh of a child. “Says the fornicator.” I learned that word in bible studies. I crack my neck side to side. “Shall we go and look at your jewelry? You can pick out a couple of pieces you don’t mind parting with. I won’t take it all. Don’t screw me over, though,” I warn, “and give me cheap crap, or I’ll destroy you from America. I can always send those letters to the church and the town council.”

She bites her cheek. “How do I know you won’t do so anyway? You could take the jewelry and still ruin my life months later.”

I watch her for a long moment. “You’re right. But I give you my word, I won’t.”

She snorts. “Oh, well then, in that case.” Her eye roll is epic.

I smile. “I get where you’re coming from, but you don’t really have much choice. Do you?”

I decide there and then that as well as never marrying and making false promises, I will be a man of my word, in the way Anton wasn’t. “I swear to you I won’t send the letters if you help us.”

Her hand flexes on the table, and I think she might be about to hit me. Instead, she pushes her chair back, and the scraping against the floor makes my teeth clench.

“Come on then, you little bastard.” She stomps out of the room, and I follow her.

The bedroom she leads me into is simple but pretty with a large bed in the center.

“Ah look at that, the marital bed.” I pat the sheets. “I bet you still have sex with your husband, don’t you?”

“You’re getting very close to the edge of what I’ll tolerate, young man.”

The young man remark cracks me up and I laugh.

She stares at me for a long beat and shakes her head. Is that pity in her gaze? For me? How dare she. The sad, worried look she considers me with makes the scary new beast inside me roar more.

She pulls open a drawer and takes out a box.

Opening it, she shows me the contents. “Some of the shiniest stuff is only costume. The real jewelry is in this drawer.” She pulls open a drawer underneath the main compartment.

I don’t know anything about jewelry. I’d have thought the first layer was more expensive, but I must trust she won’t screw me over. If she does, I’ll fuck her life up.

She sorts through it and hands me two pieces. “This ring is from Saudi Arabia. Twenty-two carat gold, sapphires, and diamonds. It’s worth a lot. It has a very thick band, see, and twenty-two carat gold is expensive. You could pawn this for around three thousand dollars in America.”

Next is a bangle. It’s very thick with ornate markings on it. “This is the same gold. It’s worth about five thousand dollars; that’s what they told me at the will reading. So that and the ring almost gets you to ten thousand dollars. That should give you a few months”

I scoff, “No, it won’t. Not for two of us.”

She grits her teeth, but she holds up a pair of old-lady earrings. The kind that hang like chandeliers and sparkle with many gems. “Diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, from Graff. They’re worth around fifteen thousand dollars. These three items together will give you enough money to look after you and your mamma for a couple of years. That’s it, Dimitri.” She places her hands on her hips.

I pocket them all and look at the rest of the jewelry. There’s still a fuck-ton more.

“The thing about sinning, Dimitri, is knowing when to stop,” she says quietly. “You can take those, and I can probably ensure my husband never finds out. You take too much, and he finds out … then you’re entering the realm of unintended consequences.”

“Is that the realm you’re in now?” I ask.

She nods. “Absolutely.”

“Because you didn’t know when to stop sinning?”

“Yes.”

“I want one more sin,” I say.

She sighs, and her fingers brush over the items.

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