Page 80 of Vengeful Princess

Landon, too. The pair of them were bad for me.

The only one Ineededto get close to was Cassian, so from now on, I’d have to put some serious effort into finding out why my father was so damn interested in the Forsyths. Not that I felt bad about it. Getting to know Cassian Forsyth would definitelynotbe a chore.

Two days later, opportunity came knocking.

The lecture had only just begun when Cassian walked in and headed my way. He dropped into an empty chair next to me with a brief nod in my direction. This was the first time he’d chosen to sit next to me in a while. Not that I was complaining. Aside from being eye candy, I needed to get things moving.

Torrance had finally messaged me this morning. Not to ask after my health or check I’d made it home OK after our last little meeting. Nope. His only concern was that I be available for a trip to London soon. No detail. All he said was it involved Lucian Forsyth.

I hoped to glean some information from Cassian. I figured if I started a conversation, he might let something useful slip. It was a long shot, but right now, it was all I had.

I really didn’t want to head down to London with no knowledge of what I was walking into or why. Google lacked much in the way of useful information. Lucian Forsyth’s PR agency obviously approved every news story that appeared online, with any whiff of negativity extinguished before the fire got out of control.

To the outside world, Lucian was a paragon of virtue. A man willing to stop at nothing in his fight against organized crime.

Having met him, however, I knew the real Lucian Forsyth was nothing like the saint portrayed in the press. Monsters came in many guises, and Lucian Forsyth had all the hallmarks of a sociopathic wolf in a sheep’s clothing.

Anyone reading the weekend story in the Sunday Times on Lucian’s career trajectory would assume that the guy could do nothing wrong. Not only had he achieved a position of great power and influence thanks to years of relentless hard work, but he’d also hit the jackpot by marrying a woman of means with connections to the Royal Family.

One look at the photogenic Forsyth family posed against the sumptuous backdrop of Blackwood Manor was enough to make any normal person seethe with jealousy.

“Feeling better now?” Cassian whispered in my ear as the professor droned on and I doodled in my notepad. After twenty minutes, I had two pages of stick figures murdering each other in creative ways. Next, I drew a picture of an ax and a severed head with lots of scribbling to denote blood everywhere. Damn, I was talented.

“Much better, thanks.”

Cassian peered at my questionable doodles and coughed. Anyone else would have moved away immediately, but he just smirked once he’d finished trying not to laugh.

“Clearly.”

He reached out and traced the edge of a faded yellow bruise on my cheek. Feeling him touch my face so gently rocked me to my core. Cassian wasn’t like Landon. He didn’t dole out affectionate touches at the drop of a hat. He reminded me more of Milo. Not quite as touch averse, but definitely not tactile.

“It must have been bad,” he commented softly. “I hope you make them pay.”

Oh, I fully intended to make that bastard pay one day. I had a mental list of all the awful things he’d done to me, but revenge was a dish best served cold.

Torrance would get what was coming to him.

When I didn’t reply, Cassian settled back in his chair and made notes while the professor talked, but every so often, I felt him watching me.

43

Thea

Despite a crust of snow on the ground, the planned bonfire party was in full swing. I guess everyone thought with a few drinks inside them, the cold wouldn’t matter. And sure enough, with the fire lit, it felt warmer than I expected outside. At least near the fire.

More than ten feet away, even with plenty of space heaters working overtime, every exhale turned into a cloud of ice crystals.

“I need a drink,” Eden muttered as we followed the path toward the bonfire. Flames roared into the sky, casting an orange glow over the nearby trees. Music blasted out from hidden speakers, almost deafening me as we approached a table piled high with booze.

“We have mulled wine, punch, vodka, or beer. What’s your poison?” The warm wine looked good, but I wasn’t drinking anything someone else had made. Being roofied was not on my bingo card for tonight.

“Beer.” The guy manning the drinks station passed me a bottle of beer and I popped the cap. Eden asked for mulled wine. She took a sip and coughed.

“Strong,” she croaked before guzzling it down and requesting a refill. I cocked an eyebrow. “What? I plan to have fun!”

“I’m not carrying your ass back to your room when you pass out.” OK, that was a lie. I would never leave her incapacitated if she drank too much. Eden was my first official friend. I couldn’t afford to lose her or I’d be friendless once again.

Well, maybe not. When I looked up, Landon had spotted us and was strolling over. That fucker seemed to think we were best friends because he’d taken care of me after my beating from Torrance.

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