Page 85 of Worthy Promises
“Okay,” Brogan replied. “I understand. I don’t think I’ve met him.”
“The only interactions I had with the man before I met Worthington were him demanding that I hand over large chunks of my company’s assets and capital to him,” Oliver explained as his beast hooted with outrage in his head at the temerity of the man Fate had somehow chosen to lead them. Although instinct should’ve had Oliver and his owl obeying without question, their ruler hadn’t earned their trust or respect. “He called to demand I introduce him to the Duke Argent so he could negotiate a meeting with the High Kings. If I believed he had the best interests of the snowy owls in mind, I’d be happy to negotiate something. However, from what I can ascertain, every dollar that makes it to him is spent on his lavish lifestyle. I informed him my connection to the D’Vaires is a personal one and has nothing to do with him. His staff still routinely contact me, but I refuse to answer or acknowledge their voicemails.”
“Well, he sounds awful,” Lex said.
“Indeed. I’ve already told my staff, if the press should ask why we didn’t add thescandiacuswhen we rebranded, to respond that the D’Vaires are full of many traditions and we opted to borrow from the gargoyles who have no Latin surname,” Oliver confided.
“You can’t go wrong with modeling anything after gargoyles,” Lex enthused.
“I’ll make a note to check back with you in a couple of weeks about dates that will work for you,” Rutledge said.
“Once it’s done, I’ll let you both know,” Oliver promised. “I don’t want you to have to hunt me down.”
“Whatever works,” Lex said. “Jeremiah’s on board too, and his calendar is flexible.”
“Wonderful, I can’t imagine an art showcase without him,” Oliver replied.
“My Owliver is losing a fine amount of sleep staring at the mural Jeremiah painted for us,” Worthington remarked.
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s the only reason he’s not getting enough shut-eye,” Lex teased.
“A gentleman hardly speaks about what he and his mate do behind closed doors,” Worthington said.
“I don’t want to know about any of your sex lives,” Mac threw in.
Kitchi raised his arm and waved wildly. “Um, hello? I don’t have a mate. I wouldn’t mind hearing some salacious tales.”
“Yeah,” Lex replied. “I think I’ll stop by and say hi to Somerly. Maybe I can convince Dre’Kariston and Dra’Kaedan to do some scrying. If we’re lucky, they’ll track down a mate or twelve today.”
“Good luck,” Rutledge told his mate as Lex sauntered for the door.
Like the gargoyle, Oliver hoped Lex would convince the warlocks to scry. If Fate were feeling kind, perhaps they’d discover more mates. Perhaps Fate was the one aiding Fated D’Vaires’ successes at their events where matebonds were discovered. He hoped so and that it would continue as Lex and Rutledge added more dates and different types of gatherings to their future plans. Oliver’s gaze landed on the beautiful man at the desk next to him, and he desperately wanted everyone in the entire extended D’Vaire family to know the happiness overflowing in his own heart whenever he was with Worthington.
Chapter 29
The mood in the kitchen was jovial as Worth ate his breakfast. Oliver was at his side and deep in discussion about art. Worth loved the enthusiasm on his face, but he honestly didn’t need to know that Gustav Klimt had used cat urine as a fixative in his sketchbooks. His nose wrinkled as he considered what that must’ve smelled like. Although Worth was an avid animal lover, he would’ve declined an invitation to peruse the drawings of the remarkable Austrian painter.
“If I had a museum, I think I’d pass on those sketches,” Brogan remarked.
“An extensive collection of his sketches was put on display in 1913 to 1914, and they were so erotic that some art critics called him a pornographer,” Oliver said. “He was a fascinating man who painted in a muumuu-style robe. Klimt loved woman and reportedly fathered fourteen children.”
“Do you have any more weird-ass art stories for us, Oliver?” Lex asked.
Worth smiled at his friend’s enthusiasm and the curiosity blazing from Asteria’s big pink gaze as she sat comfortably on Oliver’s shoulder. Grabbing a piece of bacon from his plate, Worth handed it to hisllerka’irro, and movement out of the corner of his eye had him turning toward his cousin.
Noirin laid her hand at the bottom of her very rounded belly, and her jaw clenched as she bent slightly forward. A chair at the table next to Worth scraped sharply across the floor, and Saura rocketed past him.
“Dear, are you okay?” Saura asked, resting a palm on Noirin’s back.
With a decidedly nervous laugh, Noirin attempted a smile that quickly turned to a grimace. Kendrick shut the faucet off and rushed to Noirin’s side. A small trail of sudsy bubbles from the dishes he’d been cleaning followed in his wake.
“I’m…I’m fine. Yep. Fine,” Noirin said.
Saura didn’t bother to address the lie as the room quieted and focused on the Seneschal Duchess. “How long have you been having contractions?”
“Contractions!” Brogan shouted and hopped to his feet. “Noir, are you in labor?”
Ignoring the Grand Duke, Noirin gave her attention to Saura as Kendrick rubbed his mate’s shoulders.
