Page 13 of Black Sheep

Seated on his throne, he returns his attention to me. “Enlighten me then, my sweet. How would you have gone about bringing my errant boy to heel? Considering he was just as stubborn before I sent Ronan.”

I wouldn’t refer to him like he’s a truant child acting out, for a start. I clench my gut as I recall the last look Axel gave me before he disappeared through the door behind the bar. “At this point, he’s going to toy with whoever else you send after him.”

“Whoever else? Are you taking yourself out of the running already?”

“I should never have been in the running.” I can’t prevent the angry bite in my tone from filtering through.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re questioning my judgment for the second time since I walked into the room. Are you, my petal?”

My sigh is as weary as the hand I massage my temple with. “I’m tired, Finnan. I haven’t slept, and I’ve been forced to endure high decibels for hours. My head is pounding.”

His head jerks up, and I almost see him scent the air. “Forced?”

Shit.

Anything other than his son’s indifference will be seen as engagement. And there’s nothing Finnan loves more than the getting under his last-born’s skin. Even now, when every single day grows more precarious for the Rutherford empire, Finnan is most engrossed with discovering his son’s weak spots.

In his eyes, exploiting Axel’s weaknesses would be the quickest way to gain his attention and cooperation. It isn’t a theory I disagree with, but with my own horse in this race, I prefer to keep any advantage I find to myself. Which is why I’m choosing not to tell him about the meeting I witnessed between Vardan Petrosyan and Axel.

“Ax—He kept me waiting all night. Then he threw me out.”

Finnan’s mouth twists. “That boy has always possessed the manners of a cockroach.”

Not always.

There was a time when Axel would’ve paved a path of pure silk for me if I wished to walk barefoot across the world. A time when my every wish was his command.

Or at least that was what I believed.

That time seems like a distant, ethereal dream now, insane moments fashioned by witches and leprechauns for their hideous and brief amusement. A sketch they evidently grew tired of very quickly. Because why else would something so beautiful and rare have turned so ugly and savage so fast?

Was it even love? Wasn’t love supposed to last forever?

I don’t know. What I know is hate lasts a hell of a lot longer. Especially when it’s fuelled as lovingly as I tend it.

Realizing memories are hell-bent on breaching my closely guarded vault, I straighten. As cute as my four-inch Jimmy Choos are to look at, they pinch something fierce after hours of constraint. I’m also in desperate need of a shower.

Most of all, I’m eager to get away so I can reaffirm my carefully laid-out plan. A plan that, for a single moment tonight, when my eyes met Axel’s across that packed dance floor, I failed to prioritize.

That single moment of faltering drowns me in shame now as I wait to be dismissed from Finnan’s den.

“Fine, go and rest. You’ll try again tonight.”

It takes every ounce of control to prevent my fists from clenching. “No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I told you, it won’t work. There’s only one way you’ll get his attention, and that is if you call him yourself.”

His eyes turn arctic cold. “Are you sure you’re ready for the kind of attention he’ll receive from me if I have to track him down myself? Especially now I have confirmation that he’s behind the Armenians’ defection?”

My sharp inhalation gives me away.

Finnan gives me a small, cold smile. “What, you think I want him to come home just for a nice father-son chat?”

I shrug. “How would I know? You didn’t tell me why you wanted the meeting.”

“Because I know you’re not as dumb as you want me to think.”

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