Page 15 of Goldrage
They both stare at me with their mouths open. Eleanora recovers first, her sharp mind already working through the details.
“They’ll demand proof. A pregnancy test, blood work?—”
“My period hasn’t come in months.” I’m a little embarrassed about that, but it’s the truth. “Too much stress and malnutrition. And what about Gideon? He could fake some records or something, right? Maybe he can give me some documents that say a doctor checked me out and I’m pregnant.”
“But whose baby would it be?” Eleanora asks, cutting straight to the heart of it. “Adrian’s or Julian’s?”
A smile curves my lips because I know this plan would have made my mother proud. “I won’t specify. I’ll say I don’t know. Because I’ve, well…” I don’t want to say that I’ve been with both of them so recently because that’s private, but Julian and Adrian will understand that the timeline checks out.
Eleanora grins and it looks a bit bloodthirsty. Honestly, this new version of her is kind of terrifying. “Brilliant!” she says. “Can I be there to see the look on Lady Harrow’s face?”
“You realize,” Lorenzo says finally, his usual humor nowhere to be found, “once you’re inside, you’ll be on your own until we can find a way to get you and Adrian out.”
The weight of it settles over me, but I welcome it. This is purpose. This is action. This is better than lying here while Adrian suffers God knows what at his family’s hands. “I survived them once. I can do it again.”
“I don’t like this,” Lorenzo says.
Eleanora saunters over to him and runs her finger under his chin. Her voice is low and playful when she says, “But you’ll do it, won’t you?”
That’s all it takes to persuade my cousin, and he nods reluctantly.
“Good boy,” Eleanora adds, which makes Lorenzo scoff and roll his eyes.
“My wife might need some discipline,” he says.
“God, I amnotyour fucking wife.”
Their bickering starts up again and, honestly, I don’t know what the hell is going on between those two. They both took crazy pills.
Ignoring all the tension in the room, I close my eyes and picture Adrian. He kissed my scars and called them beautiful. He killed for me, with me. He stepped in front of a bullet meant for my heart.
Now, it’s my turn to save him.
Hold on, my love.I’m coming for you.
CHAPTER SIX
JULIAN
The oak paneling of Father’s old office presses in from all sides, the dark wood absorbing what little natural light filters through the heavy curtains. This office doesn’t have the same memories as the one at the penthouse, but it’s similar with its imposing desk and collection of Persian rugs. There are too many wood surfaces. Flashes of gold leaves here and there. The main differences are the animal heads hung in corners—trophies from my father’s hunts, their glass eyes watching me with accusation. As I sit behind the mahogany desk, I stare into the beady eyes of a dead gray wolf. Lucian did always believe that all living things eventually submit to superior power.
Gives me the fucking creeps.
But whether I’m getting creeped out here or at the penthouse, business still has to be taken care of. My temples pound with each decision demanded of me. Sign this. Approve that. Choose who lives and who disappears into the Puget Sound. The weight of it all crushes downon me until I can barely breathe. I thought all the years pounding faces at The Den would keep my shoulders strong, but they’re fucking weak under the weight of all this.
I push back from the desk and all the goddamn paperwork. My gaze shifts to the security monitors mounted in the corner. There are two dozen feeds showing different angles of the estate, different rooms and hallways. One screen shows Adrian’s room. My brother is lying as still as death on that hospital bed, wrists bound by chains the doctor insisted we remove.For his recovery, the man had pleaded. As if I give a fuck about medical opinions when it comes to keeping my brother exactly where I need him.
If I remove those chains right now, my brother will run. I can’t have that. His closeness, the gentle rise and fall of his chest that shows he’s alive, is the only thing keeping me from putting a bullet in my skull.
Still… relief mingles with resentment until they’re one combined ache, two sides of the same poisoned coin. He’s alive. He chose her over me. He’s here. He lied to me. The thoughts chase each other like rabid dogs.
I abandon the desk and my responsibilities completely and move to the window, drawn by the afternoon light spilling across Mother’s rose garden. Across the stone terrace, I can see dozens of roses in full bloom, arranged in patterns that Mother once tended to obsessively. The blooms are the complete definition of deception: beauty that hides thorns sharp enough to draw blood, just like this estate. Beautiful on the surface but designed for suffering beneath.
Something’s been gnawing at me. A few days ago, when I wheeled Adrian to the terrace, I watched Mother embrace him. Though it’s clear some things have changed about my brother, he’s always been receptive to our mom. He’s always hugged her back, softened into her. Even if it was only briefly before Lucian noticed.
But on that terrace, I saw something different.
A flinch.
