Page 34 of Hidden Heir

“Me?”

“Yes. What was your escape?”

“I have my—hadmy flower shop. That was my escape. That and Tiffany. She’s pretty much the best reason not to fuck up. Why exactly do you have drugs lying around?”

I snort softly as I lead the way out of the office and toward the stairs. “A few of the guards came from difficult backgrounds. When they came to me with an issue, I took care of it. That was the deal—complete the treatment and they gain employment.”

“Wow,” Brooke says. “I didn’t expect that kind of answer.”

My explanation is only half true. In reality, a run in with the Irish some years ago ended with a few of my guards falling into addiction, so I did everything I could to get them back on track. Keeping product on hand means I’m ready for any repeat incidents.

“What kind of answer did you expect?”

“Honestly?” She glances at me as we climb the stairs. “I expected you to be like, ‘Surprise, I’m an addict too.’”

“I would never lie to you about that, Brooke.”

Her gaze falls away after a gentle, appreciative smile. When we reach Ant’s room, he’s pacing about like a caged animal. No sooner have we stepped into the room and he’s on me.

“Did you bring them?”

“Jesus, Ant,” Brooke mutters. “Have you got any manners?”

“He’s sick,” I say in his defense. “I suppose he has no idea what the hell he’s doing.”

“Don’t fucking talk about me like I’m not here,” he snaps. “Because if you fucking lied to me, then so help me, I will climb over those walls and go elsewhere.”

“You can’t!” Brooke says a little too loudly, an unexpected note of panic in her voice. “Ant, you know how dangerous it is out there.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t care,” he barks back at her. “Better than being in here!”

I toss the baggie to him with a curl of disgust rising in my gut. “Here.” It could be dangerous for him outside these walls, given Brooke’s tale about why she came here, but her panic seems strange. Is she scared that Ant will leave and overdose, or is there something else driving her concern?

Ant snatches up the baggie like a starved man then scurries over to the couch, his eyes wide and excited like a child at Christmas. His focus clearly is on his addiction and nothing else. The man has the willpower of a wet paper bag.

“I’m going to bed,” Brooke says quietly. “I’m tired and I don’t want to watch this.”

“You don’t want dinner?”

She looks up at me as she passes and shakes her head. “Not hungry.”

Great.

I don’t blame her but my dislike of Ant continues to grow by the second. I follow Brooke and quietly close the door behind her once I’m certain she’s walked away.

I’m not the nicest man in the world though I take pride in caring for my guards and assassins, and working hard to make my father proud. I like to think of myself as firm and fair, but I do have a decent amount of blood on my hands helping keep this empire afloat. So I’m hardly in the best position to judge the actions of another.

Except when it comes to Ant. He’s not callous and cold out of responsibility. He’s not protecting anyone he cares about and he’s certainly not trying to make anyone proud.

He’s clearly nothing more than a selfish, weak coward.

He’s been given chance after chance to clean up his act, but he always falls back into his old ways it seems. Normally, I would be more sympathetic to his plight given the disease he suffers from but seeing how he talks to Brooke makes my blood turn to ice.

“This is your only chance, Ant. Do you understand me?” I state firmly, turning to see he’s sniffing up a storm on the couch.

He doesn’t acknowledge me. He’s too invested in getting every single particle out of that baggie, so lost in his desire that he didn’t even ask me what drug I gave him.

I approach him slowly. “Hey!” I bark, causing him to jump. “Listen to me when I’m talking to you.”

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