Page 4 of Reluctant Heir

“That should cool you off,” he said.

A snort snuck out of his bulbous nose as he turned to put the bucket down. Water dripped off my hair and down my back as I stood there, shivering in the basement. The man’s head was bowed, eyes closed.

Bertrand was resting against the table, one hand planted on it as he jerked his head my way.

“It’s time you learn how to be a man in this family,” he said.

I stiffened.

“You won’t be reading those fairy tales anymore. Your mother is depending on me and you to protect her as she gets older, and I won’t have you being a pussy.”

Sylvia wasn’t my mother.

My mama had been murdered.

But my father insisted I call her mother, and no one defied him. Not even me.

“Yes, sir,” I said, eyes wide. Unaware my innocence was about to be taken.

“Break his finger,” Dad said, and I flinched, staring. “Now.”

William pushed me forward.

Afterward, I walked calmly out of the door as piss ran down my legs, and I threw up everywhere.

Bastards.

“Fuck you.”She sneers and then spits, a wad of foamy saliva landing on my ankle, where the hem of my pants has left it exposed.

I raise one eyebrow, impressed with her aim.

“Is that your name?” I ask.

Her eyes meet mine. I think she thought I would strike her. But I don’t hit women, no matter how feral they are. I tend not to hit anyone—unless given good reason—not after what I went through as a child.

“Fuck You? It’s out there, but I’ve heard worse. Here’s what I’m going to do.”

I twirl one finger, and Geo releases her. I watch as she stands and adjusts her shirt and skirt, and then she resumes glaring at me. She teeters slightly on high heels, and I watch to make sure she’s not going to fall over. I know Geo can catch her, but I’m itching to have a reason to touch her myself. Whether she knows it or not, her body is calling to mine, making all my nerves stand on end.

I don’t like it.

“What?” she finally says, as if she can’t stand my long silence.

Truth is, I was thinking about what she looked like underneath that white blouse and pencil skirt rather than what I was going to do with her.

“Is that comfortable?” I ask, gesturing toward her outfit.

She glances down and then back at me, her face unsure. “My clothes?”

“Yes, I’m thinking we might need to change the uniform. It looks uncomfortable for long periods of time.”

“It’s uncomfortable for short periods of time,” she says, teetering again. She doesn’t look like she’s used to wearing heels.

Interesting.

“Are you new here?”

She glances at Geo and then back at me. It’s clear she’s not going to answer.

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