Page 86 of The Heir
My dad checked the status and said, “She’s about an hour from her destination. The drone will be back here in around four hours.”
“But I need to see her now.”
“Son.” My dad lowered his brow. “Calm down. How about you take a shower and relax a little? There’s no use in rushing things. You must be tired after the long journey.”
I felt anything but tired. Adrenaline pumped through my body and I was set on finding and talking to Linea about what happened between us last night. “I’m not tired. I’m impatient.”
“What’s going on?” my mother asked. “What happened between you and Linea?”
“He’s in love with her,” my dad explained while I impatiently shifted my balance from one foot to the other.
“I need a drone.”
My mom’s tone turned sharp. “No, what you need to do is sit down and tell me what’s going on.”
“Later, Mom.”
“No.” She patted the seat next to her. “Give Linea a chance to deal with whatever was so urgent that Finn called me. Meanwhile tell me what happened in France. I want to know about you and Linea.”
I dropped down on the seat next to her and felt a flashback to when I was a teenager and my parents insisted on a talk. “Dad already said it; I’m in love with her.”
My mom looked to my dad.
“Don’t give me that blameful glare, Pearl. I came to tell you,” my dad defended himself.
“When did that happen and is she in love with you too?” my mom asked me.
“That’s what I need to find out.” I glanced in the direction of the exit. “I have to talk to her.”
“She rejected his proposal,” my dad told my mom, who put her book down.
“Did you order her to marry you, or did you ask her nicely?”
“Mom, seriously. I’m not some primitive caveman.”
“I’m asking because Mason made the mistake of demanding Belle should marry him and it hurt her feelings. A woman wants to feel worshipped.”
“Ha! I doubt our endless banter made you feel worshipped.”
My mom gave my dad the stink-eye. “Our story was atypical. I wouldn’t suggest that Thor repeat any of the things you did to me. Especially not the part where you farted in the middle of a discussion.”
My dad laughed. “I didn’t.”
“You did. You even lifted your bedcover and shook it up and down. And when I looked horrified you said that you thought that since my arguments were shit you thought you could let out some too.”
“Never happened. You’re making that up,” my father insisted with a boyish smile.
“I was making rational arguments and your response was to release a fat fart.” My mom’s face had softened, and she was laughing with my dad, who kept shaking his head.
“I would remember that.”
“Look, your love story is weirdly cute and all, but I have my own to worry about. I need to get to Linea.”
“And then what?” My mother was serious again. “If she already rejected you then you need to address her objections and put her worries to rest.”
“Okaaay.” She had a point, and so I tried to focus on what Linea had told me exactly.
“So, what were they?”
