Page 87 of The Villain
“Like I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Severin says. “Mother, shall we take our seats. The auction is about to begin.”
I step right up to Severin very aware of the men whohave moved toward us. Security, theirs. Soldiers, mine. I’m also aware of how quiet the room is growing.
But I could give a fuck.
“If he’d been hurt or worse, I’d kill your entire family before your eyes and then I’d kill you. Do you understand me, Blackstone?”
He narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t break a sweat. Not Severin Blackstone. “This is a charity event, Cassian. Not sure your kind belong here.”
“My kind? Don’t forget, it’s you who washes the blood off my money,” I say in a low voice. “I’m not worried about shedding some of yours. In fact, I’d be happy to.”
“Are you threatening me?” he asks, face inches from mine.
“Oh, more than that. I’m fucking promising you. Do not go near my family again. Do not dare. Am I fucking clear?”
But before he can answer, the elevator doors slide open, and all eyes turn to the man inside. The man who is humming a little too loudly. He’s dressed in his tuxedo, well, dressed as best he can without help these days. What was once a neat five o’clock shadow is a gray, unkempt beard, the scruff of hair remaining on his head standing up in the back where he slept on it. The jacket is too big on him. It used to fit. Used to be too tight even. My father always took care of himself. Healthy as a horse until this. He was dashing once upon a time. Once many years ago. When he steps off the elevator, he does so in socked feet because he forgot to put on shoes.
The crack in my heart deepens.
“Dad.” I don’t recognize my voice. “What are you doing here?”
“There you all are,” my father says, oblivious to the room full of people that have gone so quiet you could hear a fucking pin drop.
I walk to meet him, Sybil on my heels. Sybil taking his arm, signaling for the band to start playing, for some distraction as even her smile falters. It’s not for concern for my father though. It’s concern for her image. She’s embarrassed.
“Samuel. We talked about this,” she says, a smile on her face even as her voice comes out a hiss. She takes his arm, and a soldier comes to stand on the other side of him.
“Well, don’t you look wonderful, my dear. A true beauty, isn’t she, Seth?”
Seth.
Fuck. He thinks I’m Seth.
He pats Sybil’s hand.
I walk closer.
“You didn’t have to come tonight, dad. You hate these things, remember?” But he doesn’t remember. That’s the problem. “I’ll handle it, if you want to go back to bed.”
“Nonsense,” he says with a warm smile. “Now, I could use a scotch,” he tells a nearby waiter who doesn’t know what to do. At least the band begins to play, not that it does anything to disperse the crowd. Not when there’s a show like this to watch.
I follow my father’s gaze to Allegra who is standing where I left her a few feet away. He doesn’t quite smilethough. He just looks confused for a long minute before taking a deep breath in like he’s preparing himself for something. “Ah. You’re here.” He steps toward Allegra and takes her hand, the one not holding her cocktail. He bends to kiss it. “My boy keeps you hidden away, doesn’t he, Vivi.” He shakes his head, turns to me.
“Vivi?” Allegra asks, looking up at me.
“Let’s go upstairs, Dad,” I say, taking his arm now, turning him toward the elevator which, thankfully, a soldier is holding.
“Don’t pull at me, Seth. For Christ’s sake, you’re not a little boy anymore.”
“It’s not Seth, dad. It’s me, Cassian.”
My father stops, looks up at me, his forehead wrinkled. It takes him a minute. Does he really see Seth when he looks at me warmly? Because I know the instant, he realizes I’m not Seth. The moment he knows I’m his other son.
The one whose birth killed the woman he loved.
“Where’s Seth?” he asks loudly as he tries to pull away from me.
“Seth isn’t here tonight. Come on, Dad,” I say, managing to take a step toward the elevator.
