Page 30 of The Heir

It's always in the eyes.

I stare at my phone, wondering about a reply when I look up and see Dennis holding the door open for me. As usual he stares straight ahead, giving me privacy. I pocket my phone and exit the vehicle. "Let's be ready to leave in about an hour. Need to get ready for the art showing tonight."

"Yes sir." Dennis closes the door and I make my way across the pea gravel to the concrete steps of the three story stone building. My mother meets me at the stairs, giving the men who are power washing the house glasses of lemonade. No matter how much money and power this family has, she always takes care of the staff.

My mother, orMadreas I call her, was a maid when my father chose her, you see. I'm pretty sure a huge chunk of our money is funneled into the staff, that practice has rolled over to my household as well. I pay my staff very well.

"Hola, Madre, como estas?" I murmur, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

Madre, though only half Latina, holds tight to her roots. We speak mostly Spanish around her, respectfully. My father used to orate elaborate stories of how he had to hire a tutor to teach him Spanish when he first met Madre just to be able to talk to her because she wouldn't speak in English all the time.

For as long as I can remember my father has been lovesick over my mother. Madre teases that it's the homemade tamales that she treats him to, but no, the man is straight infatuated even after forty years of marriage. Just like I am with Isobel.

And I'm about to ruin her engagement tonight.

I hope she doesn't cry. But if she does, I'll pull her in my arms and hold her.

"Very good mijo, and you? You feeling okay? You look…" Her dark brown eyes flit over mine before dragging down my face and body slowly. "Worried. What's the matter?"

"I am worried," I admit. I never could hide from or lie to Madre, she susses me out every time. She stands patiently as the workers grab the drinks off the tray, however, I don't elaborate and she doesn't pressure me. Madre knows I'll come around when I'm ready.

A trait both Mason and I share.

You know, it really fucking bothers me that it's only because of his family he's with her. They're pressuring him to marry her. He's so weak. He clearly prefers and loves Anna, but because of family pressure he's not man enough to go after what he wants. So instead, he's fucking around on a perfectly decent woman. It makes no sense.

Grow a backbone and go after what you want, dickhead.

But I understand that just because The King Dynasty operates that way, others do not.

"Very well. We can talk about it in a bit," Madre says, turning to give me a kiss on my cheek. I bend down, obliging her. "Your father is inside with Teresa and Mason." She looks me over again and clicks her tongue. "Hendrix, you couldn't clean up? Go up to your bedroom and find yourself a new shirt to put on." I smile at her and lean down again to rub my hair against her face. "Ugh!" she complains with a laugh.

"Fine, Madre. As you wish," I say chuckling, heading into the house and up the stairs to my old bedroom where she keeps the closet stocked with essentials just in case I'm ever here and need something.

Cleaning up, I saunter into the dining room ten minutes later, seeing the servants laying brunch out, and father leaned in speaking quietly with Teresa's husband Brody. Brody, though turned towards my father, keeps a hand on Teresa's expanding belly.

I smile, thinking how happy they look.

The day Teresa picked Brody up has to go down in history as the craziest male abduction story in the history of King Dynasty. She snatched his ass right off a fucking runway in Paris. Now look at them: happy, married, and pregnant. Good for them. I side eye Mason, who's been too busy trying to get into the fucking mafia to take anything seriously in life, and smack him in the back of the head as I sit down.

I hold a hand up as one of my parent's maids bends over to make my plate. "No thank you, I have it."

"Son." I glance over at Father, who's just finished up his conversation. As our eyes meet I bristle, because just like he gave them his undivided attention, he's about to give it to menow, and I'd rather just eat in silence and not be confronted. Especially with the way I'm feeling currently.

But unfortunately for me, confrontation is Richard King's forte.

"Father," I greet him.

"You forget yourself?" Father says in a curt, business tone. His brows furrow as he pins me with a hard stare. Putting the biscuit down on my plate, I stand back up and walk over to him as he rises from his seat. When I approach him he pulls me into his arms and claps me on the back hard. The warmth from his hands seeps through my shirt and causes feelings of shame that I'm not used to to rise up in me. "You've been too busy for your family?" he says into my ear quietly, exasperating my already heightened feelings. "Haven't even seen you in almost half a year. You only call us now… don't tell me my son's influence has gotten so big that he's forgotten his family?"

I clear my throat and stand back, taking in his silvering hair and striking features which are starting to look slightly older. I feel a pang of guilt for making them wait so long to see grandchildren, however Teresa came through so I've got time. "No, Father, I found her. Her name's Isobel, and I've been busy preparing to bring her home." The shame quickly morphs into anticipation, and I realize that's why I'm so on edge.

I'm incredibly anxious for tonight. Because how I handle my possession of Isobel set's the course for the rest of our lives. It's a bigdeal.

"A bride?"My father's voice is as harsh as his hands as he locks them down on my arms in an unmoving grip. "That's what you've been doing? Why didn't you justsay?"

"Because it's incredibly complicated," I respond with a sigh.

His eyes narrow, and he tilts his chin up. "Remember, son, there are no complications, only-"

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